#woosan x reader

A date with a shared friend of your two roommates, one you originally didn’t want to go on, but were now somewhat excited for. You haven’t been on a date in a while, which you didn’t think much of, but it seemed everyone and their mother was more than concerned for your love life than you were. You were content with San and Wooyoung, your two roommates, and your one year old black lab named Sweetie who was almost as big as you.

After fighting both San and Wooyoung’s attempts at convincing you to go out with Yunho for a week, you finally agreed, days into the follicular phase of your cycle, mere moments out of the month when you craved the touch of a man. Now, mid-ovulation, you weren’t completely sure where you wanted to end up tonight. 

You knew Yunho well. Being a friend of both San and Wooyoung, he was over your apartment all the time, with his shaggy brown hair, cozy clothes that made him look like a librarian, legs that stretched on forever. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at his veiny hands for a second longer than what was considered appropriate, but you never thought of Yunho as an actual option. 

When you came home after a long day of teaching, blabbing to San and Wooyoung how the other teachers at the studio teased you for being single yet again, telling you that you should at least go on dates, the pair took it upon themselves to find you a suitor. Silently, without your knowledge, they hooked you up with Yunho, one of the only other single people in their friend group. Your friend group.

“I guess the second one?” You tilted your head to the side in thought, turning to stare at yourself in the mirror again, a black dress that hugged your curves dangerously. “Maybe this is more club than it is dinner and drinks.”

“Try on the other one again,” San tilted his chin toward the brown dress you tossed on the chair in the corner of your room, the one usually tucked under your desk that held your two-monitor PC setup. Used mainly for The Sims 4. No one had to know that part, though, your set-up was sick. 

You whined, head falling backward, effectively giving up. Sweetie’s head picked up, and San’s amused smile grew as you trudged across your bedroom, crawling on your bed, sprawling yourself across your best friend who rolled on his back, opening his arms to welcome you in. 

San chuckled, your head tucked below his chin, vibrations bleeding through your skin. His body was so hard beneath you, so warm and inviting, you could happily stay here, buried into him forever. He turned his head, making room to press a kiss to the top of your head, “You’ll have fun, Yunho’s a great guy. He’ll treat you well.”

“What if I just want to cuddle and watch movies all night? Is it so bad to cancel now?” You mumbled, voice muffled by the cotton white tee he wore, one from the pack you bought him a month ago. His home uniform, a white tee that clung to his body like latex, and gray sweats that hung so low on his hips you wondered how they didn’t fall off sometimes. 

“Come on,” San ushered you upward, his chest pushing on your cheek until you pulled your arms under your body to lift yourself off of him. You pouted, he smiled, dimples joining the party on your bedspread. “If you don’t like him, you leave, no harm, no foul.”

“He’s your friend,” you whined again, bottom lip jutting out in the most exaggerated way. “Why did I agree to a set up with one of your friends?”

Just as San was about to protest that Yunho is one of your friends too, you heard the front door snap open, sneakers hitting the wall as he kicked them off his feet, you always heard him before you saw him. Yours and San’s heads turned to your opened bedroom door as Wooyoung yelled from the living room, “It’s date night!”

You sighed, sitting backward, legs tucked under you. Sweetie got up from where he snuggled against San and joined your pity party by laying across your lap, head nuzzling into your tummy. Like a reflex, you scratched your fingers along his back, on the top of his head, he pushed air through his nose in delight. 

Wooyoung ran into your bedroom, halting dramatically in your doorway, both hands propped up on the frame on either side of his head. His eyes danced between you, San and your dog, but they landed on San. “Why isn’t she ready?” Eyes sliding to you, “Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I don’t wanna go,” your head tipped back again, whining, “Sweetie doesn’t want me to go either, look at him, he’s so cozy. He wants me to stay home and cuddle with him.” 

Wooyoung’s lips flattened in a line, “You can’t cancel on him, Shy. He’ll be here in thirty minutes to pick you up, it’s rude if you cancel now. Get up, girl.”

Your top lip curled in distaste, you hated when he said your name like that, even if it was the nickname they both had for you. Really, it was San’s nickname, which was originally your mother’s, he picked it up when he was three, when your entire family called you their shy girl. The nickname had always stuck with him, even after moving away from your hometown and into the city that your family thankfully wouldn’t step foot in, even after almost a decade. When you met Wooyoung your junior year of college, he thought the nickname was so damn cute he started calling you Shy, too. 

Wooyoung moved to the center of your room, movements fluid, eyes dancing about the space like he was your fairy godmother. Picking up the brown dress thrown over your chair, he cheered, “Aha! I love this one on you.”

Sighing, you tapped on Sweetie’s head, a warning to him before you stood up. He crawled off your lap and back into San’s chest, settling in his side just like he had before you interrupted. You stood up off the bed, pulling your dress down your thighs, and Wooyoung grinned, eyes flaring, “That dress is an option? What, are you planning on fucking him?”

Eyes narrowing, you scowled at him, crossing the room to snatch the brown dress from his hands. In all black, jeans, tee and jacket, he wore his hat backwards on his head, hiding his short, cropped black hair. Rings adorned his fingers, silver necklaces on his neck, he and San so opposite it still made you laugh at how close the three of you are. 

You supposed you were the glue. To Wooyoung’s hotheaded, outspoken, free-bird self, San was more emotional, logical, he actually thought before he spoke, when his feelings didn’t cloud his mind. You were the perfect combination, spontaneous yet level-headed, in tune with your emotions, in tune with theirs, you were the ground they stood on, the final word in their decisions. Why did you need to go on this date when all you needed was in this room with you?

“No,” you bite, throwing the dress on the bed while you pull the one you already wore up and off your body. 

Woo laughed, sitting down on the chair he stole the dress from, “No? Your panties match your bra.”

“I just wanted to be prepared,” you throw the dress at him as soon as it's off your body and he catches it with one hand, eyes obviously drinking in your figure. Too close for comfort, that’s what the three of you were, roommates and best friends and an enigma no one around you can understand. 

When you turn to San, his eyes are on Sweetie before him, his fingers lightly scratching his head. Always polite, always considerate, you grabbed the brown dress you threw on the bed, forcing yourself to not recall the days where he wasn’t so respectful. 

“Did you shave? Be honest,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise as you step into the low cut, bodycon brown dress. You snort, walking towards him so he can zip it up your back. 

“I trimmed,” you answer simply, amusement dancing in your tone, pulling your hair to one side to give him access to the zipper. He straightens in the chair, one hand on your hip as the other tugs the chilly zipper up your back, he stands back up to reach the top. You turn to him, hair still grasped in your fist, brows raised as the thought crosses your mind, “Should I have shaved?” 

“Hell no,” San responds from the bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung standing feet away from him. “Yunho’s a man, like, a man. He doesn’t give a fuck if you have a bush or whatever.”

“You should have left the bush,” Wooyoung’s smile is swimming in his eyes too, half-joking, half-serious, “it’s like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.” 

You peel away from him with a laugh as you stand before your full-length mirror, hands gliding down your body as you twist from side to side, head tilted to look at yourself from every angle. You look good, the color compliments your features, accentuates your curves just enough, you didn’t know if the heavy feeling in your gut was anxiety or if you didn’t feel confident or what. It’s been a long while since you’ve been on a date. You sigh, “I just feel like it’s too much.”

Wooyoung comes up behind you, one of his veiny hands on your waist, his cologne in your nose. Woody, notes of creamy sandalwood, spicy, you ease into his touch as he swings a pair of pumps around your front for you to look at through the mirror. You missed when he grabbed them from your closet. “You’ll feel better with these on,” his voice is low in your ear, velvety even if it wasn't intentional, “Your legs will look longer. He’ll wanna eat you from across the table instead of his food.”

You nod, swallowing, ridding your thoughts of all things incriminating about your roommate and best friend. He moves to crouch down on one knee in front of you, your heels on the floor beside him. San, on his stomach now, is beaming while he watches Wooyoung give you princess treatment as if your heart wasn’t reaching tachycardic level, “It’s like you’re Cinderella. Shinderella.”

Your brows scrunch as a punched laugh rushes from your chest, one palm holding the hat on Wooyoung’s head for leverage as you slip your foot into the deep maroon heel he’s holding out for you. “That was an awful joke, Sannie.”

“I liked it,” Wooyoung smiles up at you, sincerity in his eyes, all warmth and love as he grabs the other shoe, “You deserve to be treated like a princess, so if he doesn’t hold the door open for you, pull the chair out for you, if he doesn’t pay the bill, you come home straight to us.”

He stands up on two feet to lean forward, pressing a kiss to your freshly done hair, hands squeezing your shoulders, “Why does this lowkey feel like a big deal?” He turns around to look at San while your face flushes aggressively, “I feel like we’re giving her away.”

San snorts a laugh, tucking a muscled arm under his head to lay his cheek on, “She knows she’s ours at the end of the day.”

You roll your eyes, hands on your hips again as you turn to San, disagreement in your body language but in your heart you know it’s fucking true. Ever since you were little, you’ve looked up to San in a way, always taller than you, stronger than you, older than you. Even if it’s only by a year, you’ve always seen him as someone wiser, someone you could count on no matter what, if you needed him, he’d be there. Because of that you’ve always stuck by his side, never treading farther than arm’s reach, because as much as you were San’s, he was also yours. 

And he knew it in his bones, too. 

“It’s one date,” your voice is full of reassurance as you walk to your closet, pulling out your collection of bags, totes, purses, already having one in mind. Finally finding the tiny black Coach purse as you realize what you’d just said, you whip around to look at his dimpled-cheeks deep in the pocket of his elbow, purse tucked under your arm, “Why was I just about to convince you why I should go? This is getting very backwards.”

“Because you love us so much, you don’t want us to sit here all night, all sad because some six foot sexy man is taking you away from us,” Wooyoung’s voice is full of humor as he sits back on your bed, one leg tucked under him, one hand rubbing San’s exposed ankle. He sits up a little straighter, “You should still go, though. We won’t be that sad.”

With your features blown into offense, you scoff, “I’d expect you two to be crying, nervous wrecks while I’m gone. You’re telling me you’ll be fine and dandy while I’m off getting pounded by that same six foot sexy man?”

“Pounded?” Wooyoung and San answer at the same time, their eyes wide, eyebrows in their hairlines. San even picked his head up from the pocket of his elbow. 

You laugh loudly as you put your everyday purse on Wooyoung’s lap, transferring all your necessities into the tiny handbag. San sits up, crawling behind Wooyoung with his legs straddling the younger man’s back, “You’re really gonna fuck him?!”

“Do we need to have the talk?” Wooyoung blinks at you, face completely shocked, leaning back into San’s arms that wrapped around his front, “When was the last time you even had sex?”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, first of all.” You hold up two hands in front of you, palms flat, facing both men. “Second of all, I don’t know! Who knows? If the date goes super awesome-ly then I might end up in his bed, yeah.” You point a finger at Wooyoung, eyes narrowing, “Third of all, screw you. Two years, shut up.”

Wooyoung raises his arms in defense, lips tucked between his teeth to stop himself from giggling. San still looks surprised, cheeks pink, jaw slack and eyes wide, “I– I don’t know why I’m so shocked that you admitted that so easily.”

“You’re acting like I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you close the clasp on your purse, “I may have not fucked in two years but I’ve fucked plenty.” Looking at Wooyoung again, you ask, “Can I wear your Chrome Hearts jacket? The leather one?”

Wooyoung nods with his face scrunched like it was no biggie before asking, “So are we expecting you home tonight or what?”

“Why are you being so adamant about this?” Your eyes bounce between them, lingering on San’s cheeks that deepen by the minute, “I don’t know yet, jeez. What time is it?”

San scrambles for his phone, “He’ll be here in ten.”

As if Yunho himself was in your bedroom with the three of you, the doorbell rang. Your eyes widen, “Shit, he’s early.”

“We’ll distract him,” Wooyoung grabs your waist to move you to the side as he stands, rushing out of your room to greet Yunho at the door. Sweetie jumps off the bed next, following him, probably thinking something exciting was happening, and San mimics the two as the third musketeer.

Your finishing touches, extra deodorant, more perfume for good luck, a little lip gloss, a few fluffs to your hair. You caught yourself in the mirror again before leaving, doing another three-sixty, viewing yourself from every angle possible without twisting into a pretzel. Scrunching your lips, you stare at your own face, something still didn’t feel right. You hated when your gut was telling you something, but didn’t say what it was.

The three are in the kitchen, four if you count Sweetie, mid-conversation as your heels announce your presence before you breathe a word. Meeting San’s eye and then Wooyoung’s, both stared at you in awe, affection sparkling in their dark eyes, like they’d never seen you so dressed up before. Sweetie is at Yunho’s feet, the six foot man crouched into a hunched-over ball, hands scratching the dog’s ears until he sees you. 

“Wow,” he stands, black slacks on his long legs, a cream-colored button up on his upper half, brown jacket thrown over his arm. Black hair styled and off his forehead, he looked clean, crisp, handsome. “You look beautiful.” 

Your face heats up, beaming as you say, “Thanks, you look handsome, too.”

Wooyoung giggles like a child, you snap your head to sneer at him, catching San who’s still staring at you fondly. They’re like your parents, chaperoning your first date like you’re a teenager. 

Wooyoung skirts around the kitchen island, “Your jacket, milady.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile apologetically at Yunho who looks amused as Wooyoung drapes the leather jacket over your shoulders. Yunho’s eye drops to the emblems on the sleeves as you slip your arms inside, the obvious Chrome Hearts crosses, the jacket Wooyoung paid an arm and a leg for. His eyes flicker before rising back to your gaze, face unreadable for a moment before he slaps the bright smile back on his cheeks. 

“Ready?” He asks after you pull your hair out from beneath the collar. 

Nodding, you murmur, “Yeah, ‘m ready.”

San and Wooyoung stay tucked into each other, watching like proud mothers as you wave your goodbye, wiggling your eyebrows. You blow a final kiss to Sweetie before you’re out the door, in the open air of an unforgiving February night, Yunho’s car parked directly next to yours. He opens the door for you, closes it behind you, and he’s in the driver’s seat in a flash. 

“How are you?” He asks as he clasps his seatbelt and immediately you’re filled with the ick of inevitable awkwardness. You hated small talk, you hated this feeling, of a new relationship budding, of not automatically being at the oversharing-because-I-can stage. 

But you respond politely, with a smile on your face that he couldn’t see through, all the way to the fucking restaurant. A nice place, moody lighting, an obvious date night spot. Your table is off to the side, against the beige-colored wall, more private than the center of the restaurant, thankfully. The air between you is a little more congenial by the time you’ve had a quarter of your fruity cocktail and there’s food placed at the center of the white tablecloth.

“I love my kids,” you shake your head, swallowing down a bite of the appetizer he ordered, “they’re all great kids, it’s the parents that make me want to rip my hair out.”

Yunho laughs, an easygoing thing, and you smile when it reaches your ears. “They’re all bad?”

“Not all of them,” you respond, words practiced, almost scripted, at the point in date talk where you were discussing what you do for a living. Next comes future talk, if this went anything like the dates you’ve been on in the past did. “Just the ones that nitpick everything I do, like they have any idea what they’re talking about.”

Yunho nods, “It’s like that at my job, too. But not with parents, with clients, the ones who talk about artwork like it means something to them. I know they just think it looks cool and they want it on their wall, but that’s enough, I mean, leave it at that. I understand not everyone is a connoisseur.”

Your grin widens, a giggle falling past your lips as you bring your glass up to catch it. You have to give it to him, he’s funny, but not as funny as Wooyoung. He doesn’t look at you the way San looks at you, either. 

By the time you’re halfway through your entree you know you aren’t going home with him. You could possibly see him again, depending on how the second half of your entree goes, but the need to see him naked on top of you isn’t quite there. A sweet guy, heart of gold, you know he’s a genuine friend, you’ve had plenty of conversations with him before at your apartment during gatherings to know enough about his nature. But romantically, sexually, there isn’t a spark in your veins, a sizzling to your blood, a dampening in your panties that makes you want more. 

He’s a great guy– but he’s not for you. 

“Can I ask you something?” Now a singular piece of chocolate cake between you accompanied by two silver forks, you nod as you dig the prongs into the triangular edge. 

“Your jacket,” he raises his perfectly trimmed brows to the leather that hangs off the back of your chair, “it’s Wooyoung’s?” 

“Definitely,” you nod furiously, without missing a beat, “you know him and Chrome Hearts are in a very serious, very committed relationship.” The smile Yunho gives you in response doesn’t completely reach his eyes. You pop a brow, “Why?” 

His fork dances around the plate, “I don’t know.” Setting it down softly, he leans back in the upholstered chair, “wearing his jacket on a first date, when he’s the one who set us up. I don’t know.” 

Your head tilts, heat flooding you, the nervous kind. Confusion bites at the corners of your eyes as you blink at him, “What do you mean?” 

“Can I be frank?” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re Yunho, but sure.” 

Amusement huffs from his nose, but he doesn’t exactly smile. “Is there anything going on between you?” 

You pause, mid-bite, cake millimeters from touching your tongue. Body going hot, your arm lowers slowly, “Between who?”

“Between you and Wooyoung. You and San. Both of them, I don’t know.” 

Your brows shoot upward, jaw dropping, “What the fuck?” Looking around, noticing the eyes on you, you cover your mouth with your hand. You didn’t realize the volume you cursed at— you mumble an I’m sorry sheepishly to the room around you. 

“I’m serious,” Yunho leans forward again, and his eyes are so genuine it throws you for a loop. You knew your friendship with the pair was closer than the typical, a little strange at times, with the flirting and the touching and the looks. You knew how you felt about your roommates, your best friends, how there’s a certain depth in the way they treat you, love and respect too raw to be faked, how it always makes your stomach pang with gratitude too deep to express. 

“No, Yunho.” You shake your head, fork landing on the small, ceramic plate. The words are short, not necessarily offended, but it’s clear the question didn’t sit well. Your relationship with the two men, both a third of your being, is completely platonic. 

Did it really seem like it wasn’t?

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight, regret oozing off of him. “I don’t know why I asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you try to laugh to ease the tension, but it comes off demeaning. Yunho stiffens, hands coming up to dig the pads of his fingers into his eyes. “I’m serious, it’s fine. I know we’re a little closer than your average roommates, but we don’t fuck.” 

You could feel eyes in the room on you again, this time you ignore them. Yunho’s hands leave his face, eyes cracking open, words escaping from his lips too quickly to have been thought about first, “You never have? Not even with Sannie?” 

“Not even with Sannie, no. I haven’t seen him naked since we were seven, we’ve never once kissed, nothing.” 

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. You don’t know why they spill from your lips like a waterfall, like you had to defend yourself. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself more than Yunho. 

His brow pops like he asked the question just to receive your deception, “That’s not true.” 

Taking you by complete surprise, your heart plummets, sputtering, “O-okay, well—”

How did he know? He shouldn’t know about your times in college, Sannie throwing you around the mattress with a boy from your English class. Or the handful of times with the girl from your contemporary dance class. Or the times you’ve been each other’s New Year's Kiss, or the times you’ve messily made out in the corner of a frat house after he finished a keg-stand. It was all platonic, anyhow, so whittled down to ancient history it wasn’t even worth bringing up. 

“Why lie if you aren’t doing it still?” 

Your eyes widen. You don’t know why you lied. You weren’t expecting him to catch you in it. Your ears are on fire. 

“I’m not lying!” It comes out louder than intended, too defensive, too full of quickly found, nervous anger. If you were honest with yourself, you thought about ancient history often, you thought about what it would have been like with Wooyoung involved too, yours and San’s missing link. A line you haven’t crossed. You and San haven’t touched each other since you were twenty-one. 

But you still think about it. More than you should. 

You empty a much needed breath, one heavy and long. You ignore the stares of the people around you. You try not to let Yunho’s gaze be patronizing. You try not to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dropping down until your chin is tucked. “I don’t know where that came from.” 

“I do,” Yunho says quietly, almost shakily, like he’s scared of saying the words that follow. “You and them… you want it, don’t you?” 

“We’re just friends,” you nearly whisper, an unexplainable tightness in your chest. “Roommates,” you add, and it sounds like an insult. 

He lays an open palm on the table, and you pick your head up to meet his soft smile, eyes full of sadness, pity. You take his hand anyway. 

“You should really tell them how you feel so this doesn’t happen again.” 

How you feel? How you feel? 

You don’t even know how you feel. You have memories that linger, a soft spot for the two men you spend all your time with that was the size of a crater. You have touches, eyes, words you weren’t sure should mean more than they do. You have emotions, you have a fantasy you keep buried, you have a secret that would shatter you if it ever saw the light of day.

That line hung over your head the entire drive home. Yunho paid the bill, much to your dismay, you definitely didn’t give him the best date of his life, but your argument was cut short by the reminder that you had bigger fish to fry. You needed the brain power for the thoughts that’d keep you awake tonight, while your roommates were fast asleep in their rooms, unaware that you were pondering about the possibility of them ever being more. 

Yunho parked beside your car again. Turning towards you, keeping the car running, he said, “I won’t say anything about tonight.”

“Thanks,” you mutter in a breath, “I’m sorry again.” 

“Don’t be,” Yunho shakes his head, laying a hand on your thigh to squeeze it encouragingly, “I hope it works out for you.” 

Giving him a weak smile, you unbuckle your seatbelt and let yourself out of the car, the stupid fucking heels on your feet clacking against the pavement. “Drive safe,” you say before closing the door behind you, and Yunho nods with a warm smile. 

You face your apartment building with a pout. That could not have gone any fucking worse, and those two upstairs are going to do nothing but pester you for every single detail. Forcing a breath through your lips, you walk up the stone steps to your front door, bracing yourself for questions you can’t answer as you push it open. 

The apartment was quiet, lights dim, you slipped your heels off upon entering, dangling them from your fingers. Sweetie didn’t greet you, very unlike him, but maybe he was asleep at this hour— with the frenzy in your mind you didn't realize it wasn’t late at all. You took the corner around your foyer to reach the living room, and the sight before you had a shriek ripping from your chest, eyes blowing wide, heart positively dropping into your ass. 

On your living room couch, brown leather, wrinkled and weathered from years of use, was Wooyoung, shirtless, lip locked with a shirtless San beneath him. Bronzy, sculpted chests pressed together, veiny hands in dark hair, spit-stained lips messily tangled, Wooyoung’s toned hips were rutting against San’s before your shriek bursted their bubble. 

They broke apart like teenagers getting caught, Wooyoung so surprised he launched off of San’s lap and onto the fucking floor. “Shy!” San yelped, as shocked as you are, gaze panic-stricken as it bounced between you and Wooyoung, he stood up instinctively. 

Your insides felt like weeds. Tangled up, knotted together beyond belief, the air in your lungs was gone, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the closing room to fill them. You stared as Wooyoung blew his hair off his face, leaning back on his elbows on the floor, legs bent up and spread, denim unzipped, sporting a tent in the pocket of his undone fly. 

San was no better. Undeniably hard, droplets of wetness on his low hanging gray sweats, skin red and splotchy, glowing with a sheer sheen of sweat. His hair was fucked up, as was Wooyoung’s, sticking out in every direction, curled where fingers had been rooted. 

Wooyoung’s lips curled in a lazy grin, “You’re home early.” 

Your hands are shaking. You think if you take one step, your knees will buckle. This feels like betrayal. Your skin is fire-hot, body buzzing with confusion, shock, rage, hurt— you were out on a date they set up for you, while they were at home fucking?! Did they just want you out of the apartment for the night? How long have they been hooking up?

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, you can feel every ounce of blood thrashing beneath your skin like your heart was the eye of a hurricane. 

Your vision blurs, words coming out short, “I-I don’t—” shaking your head, you move in the direction of your bedroom. Sweetie’s at your side, you don’t know where he even came from, you don’t have the heart to greet him. Under your breath you mutter, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Shy,” San calls after you, his voice strained. A little louder, a little harsher, he tries again, “Shy!”

You close your bedroom door and flatten your back against it, breath leaving you in tremors, palms shaky against the wood behind you. Sweetie is at your feet, dancing on his paws, whimpering for some form of attention from you, sensing all the emotion in your chest. 

You sink down until your ass meets the floor, eyes focused on nothing, hands mindlessly reaching for Sweetie as your brain replays everything you just saw. Wooyoung’s back arching his chest into San’s, San’s tongue slipping between Wooyoung’s lips, one hand on Wooyoung’s thigh while the other tugged at his hair. Wooyoung’s hips rolling against him, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, a shakiness to his lean body that could only be perceived as need. This was not the first time they’ve done that. 

Your chin tilts upward as Sweetie licks your cheeks, you didn’t realize silent tears poured down them, dripping from your jaw. You couldn’t deny it now— everything Yunho insinuated, everything he said, how witnessing those two together made you feel. You wanted them. You wanted to be in the middle. You wanted their lips and hands on you just as much as you wanted to watch them touch each other. 

Fuck. 

You can’t pretend like your feelings don’t exist anymore. Half the reason you didn’t want to go tonight was because you wished they were taking you out, instead. You wished they begged you to stay home, with them, watching movies curled up on the couch, just to end up how they did without you. Without you. There wasn’t any room for you, they had a relationship on their own. They left you out of it. They set you up with someone else so they could have each other. 

It hurts like a knife to your gut. 

You can hear them whispering through the walls. You can’t make out a word, but they sound like they’re arguing, or debating. Then it’s quiet. 

Sweetie whimpers again. You pouted at him, his precious face seemed like it was pouting back at you. “It’s okay,” you reassure the puppy, hands cupping his face, scratching behind his ears, “I’m okay, I promise.” 

Wiping your tears, heaving a breath, you push yourself up, leaving your heels thrown beside the door where you dropped them. You tug the leather off your shoulders, hanging it in your closet— you didn’t have the heart to give it back to him right now, but it was too expensive to throw haphazardly on your gaming chair. 

After pulling out pajamas, you reached for your zipper, but you couldn’t reach it to get it down. You tried again, folding your arms behind you, fingers touching, zipper out of reach. You curse under your breath, shoulders strained, it hurt, your breathing picks up again in frustration. 

Sweetie jumps on your bed, watching you. It seemed he felt pity for you, too, sitting on his back legs, head tilted as watches how pathetic you looked— the tears bubbled up again. 

San knocks on your door twice. You know it’s him because the knocks are soft, gentle, Wooyoung would have just barged inside after a slew of obnoxious knocks of his knuckles. You didn’t want to see either of them right now. 

“Let me get your zipper.” 

Your arms unfold from your back, hands planting against the mattress beside Sweetie, head dropping as a defeated sob silently rips from your throat. The black lab’s nose nuzzles in your hair as you force the tears back in, back down, away. 

San opens the door without waiting for your response. You can’t see him eye the pair of heels on your floor, picking them up, placing them in front of your wide closet, you keep your eyes on the white comforter, laser focused on keeping your emotion locked up. On silent feet he comes up behind you, moving your hair out of the way, deft fingers slowly pulling your zipper down your back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is as soft as his movements, tender, like if he spoke the wrong word you’d crumble in his hands. You shake your head, sniffing. His sigh is light, apologetic, “We didn’t think you’d be home so early.” 

“It’s okay, I’m fine. The date just didn’t go as planned,” your voice is nasally from how much snot had formed in your sinuses. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, standing up, turning to look at him. Still shirtless, skin still red and splotchy, the only difference now was that his face was filled with concern instead of shock. “I’m sorry I broke up your date night.” 

He shakes his head fervently, “You didn’t break up anything, Shygirl, what happened on your date? You didn’t like Yunho? Are you okay? Did he do anything—”

A sharp chuckle tumbles past your lips, you look off to the side, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanna go to sleep.” 

You can feel the cool air of your bedroom on your bare back. You feel exposed, despite being naked in front of him so many times in your life, despite standing before him in a bra and underwear just hours earlier. You cross your arms over your chest. “Go back to Wooyoung.” 

His lips tighten, but he nods, eyes searching your face for something he can’t find. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” 

You nod, looking up at him just as another hot tear slips down your cheek. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, to wipe your tear away with his thumb, but you pull away. His eyes widen ever so slightly, you’ve never once pulled away from his touch. He doesn’t press it, instead he turns on his heel, leaving your room, closing the door behind him gently, knowing space was what you needed, even if he wished you needed him. 

You felt better in comfy clothes, curled up in your bed, Sweetie snoring softly beside you, his head basically on your pillow. You tried to focus on that, how his shiny black coat rose and fell with each breath, how he stayed by your side because he knew you needed comfort. Your brain was too muddled to pick apart each and every emotion you were feeling, there were too many, too blended together. 

But you definitely tried, for each hour you were supposed to be asleep. 

The studio is quiet.

Rehearsal finished for the night, all of your kids home by now, probably doing last-minute homework or showering before school tomorrow, you don’t know what you’re still doing here. The floors are mopped, the mirrors wiped down, the speaker is off and plugged in, your laptop and charger tucked away in your tote. Sitting on the floor of your studio, criss-cross-applesauce, you leaned back on your palms, chin tipped up to the ceiling. 

It’s been a week since you found out your two best friends, your roommates, the two people you now know you’re in love with, are in a relationship. You truly have no idea how you got away from their barrage of questions unscathed, the two men want to know every detail of your life on a regular Tuesday, let alone when you come home crying after a date. You put your deceptive shoes on, straightened your back, and blamed every single one of your tears on how sad you were about it not working out with Yunho. 

Truth was, you haven’t spared the date with Yunho a single thought since you came home to see them making out on the couch. Since then, it’s been a constant fight convincing yourself everything was fine. In reality, everything was fine, you’re healthy, you’re stable, you have a puppy at home that still pees a little out of excitement when you walk through the front door. 

You just couldn’t have what you wanted most, and you’re not a child anymore. Wooyoung and San seem so happy together, attached at the hip, pressing soft kisses to each other’s lips randomly, giggling at something the other said, so lovesick and ignorant to how shitty it all made you feel, you couldn’t be mad. You tried your hardest not to be upset. 

As if you’ve been onstage for a week now, it’s felt like seven days of constant performance. Wearing the mask, playing the part of a perfectly-okay-girl, not letting them peer inside to see your heart shredded beneath your ribs. There was still a part of you that was disappointed they couldn’t see through the charade, they knew you better than anyone else, too occupied with one another to make an effort in seeing the truth. 

“What are you still doing here?”

You picked your head up, wide-eyed as you glanced at Wooyoung in the doorway, holding a silver ring of multi-colored keys around his pointer finger. Gray sweats, hoodie on top, a black puffer layered over it, sneakers on his feet half-tied. His hair laid messy over his cheekbones, forced down flat beneath the deep red hood, the color compliments him. You think every color in his closet compliments him. 

“Hello? Shygirl?” He’s smiling now, taking a few steps inside the studio, eyes raking over your frozen form. He pushes the ring of keys inside the pocket of his puffer as he gets closer, bending down at the knees, the backs of his thighs tucked to his calves. 

“Just thinkin’,” you smile weakly, head rolling to the side, cheek landing on your shoulder. He’s so pretty, barefaced, skin clear and soft and beautiful. Shadowed beneath his hood he looks even more breathtaking, the hollows of his cheeks prominent, the freckle under his eye appearing darker. 

With a heavy breath he leans backward, landing on his ass, arms stretched out behind him, mimicking the same way you sat. His legs longer than yours, they straighten out in front of him, feet tangled between where yours sat strategically. Always close, never close enough. 

“About what?” He tilts his head. “Competition?”

Yeah, that sounds good enough. You nod and he begins his encouraging monologue all over again, softness in his tone, a determined edge of confidence, you’ve heard it all before. You didn’t care to listen to the details. 

“Okay, be serious, what’s up?” He reigns in his knees, wrapping his arms around them, leaning forward, brows furrowed. “You’ve been off all week, Shy. I know it’s not dance-related.”

You give him a weak, disappointed smile, shaking your head. The worst, shittiest excuse comes to mind, but you’d rather use any excuse than tell him why shrapnel floated through your blood, pieces of your heart that shattered beyond repair a week ago. “I’m just getting my period, I’m in my head, that’s all.”

He pouts, “You swear?”

You nod, eyes heavy, “I swear.”

It doesn’t even feel bad to lie. Maybe you’re tired of wearing the mask. Tired of feeling.

“Wanna dance with me?”

Your eyes flicker up to him, a question in your lifted brow. “Dance?”

His grin has turned mischievous, lopsided eyes thinning with the giddiness on his cheeks, he plants his palms on the floor to push himself up, throwing his puffer to the side as he walks to the speaker in the corner of the room. Turning it on, static catching as he plugged in his phone, he looked over his shoulder to ask, “What song?”

“Woo,” you shake your head, “I don’t want to–”

“Come on,” he looks back at his phone screen, you can only assume he’s scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify, “your endorphins are in jail right now, they need to be released.”

Your lips tighten, he leaves no room to argue. He never does. 

Ain't another woman that can take your spot, my…

He turns with the same feline grin as bass pounds through the room. He turned the volume up on the speaker, the building empty, no one lingering around to hear it. 

Your brows raise, a smile begging to curve your lips, “Justin Timberlake? Really?”

“Get up!” He yells, chest pumping to each beat, limbs fluid as his feet glide in your direction, “It’s just you and me, Shy-Shy. Come on.”

You push yourself up off the marley flooring reluctantly, and then you hear his voice. 

“If I wrote you a symphony, just to say how much you mean to me,” he grabs your hands as soon as you get your footing, a scowl on your face as he pulls you towards him, “If I told you you were beautiful, would you date me on the regular?”

You can’t fight the smile that creeps over your cheeks this time, letting him guide you to the center of the room, still fighting your instinct that begs your body to move to the beat of the song. Bodies facing the mirror that stretches from one wall to the other, he glides behind you, his right hand still over yours, freeing your left.

“I can see us holdin' hands, walkin' on the beach, our toes in the sand. I can see us on the country side, sittin' on the grass, layin' side by side,” still holding your hand, you sing with him as he guides you, his left hand on your hip. “You can be my baby, let me make you my lady, girl, you amaze me. Ain't gotta do nothin' crazy, see, all I want you to do is be my love.”

You’re giggling at first, moving with him, singing loudly in the studio, until he spins you around, two hands on your hips, holding you close. 

Ain't another woman that could take your spot, my love…

Your smile falters, lips parting as you stare up at him, breath stolen from your chest. His hoodie had fallen, leaving his hair visibly messy over his face, a smile so true, chocolate eyes holding half of your heart, you remember who he is. Jung Wooyoung, roommate, best friend, coworker, he’s so many things to you, but not yours. 

Is this some kind of sick joke?

Like he can read your thoughts, like he’s trying to make you forget, he twists you back around. Two hands on your hips, knees bent and legs spread, you follow suit, watching each other in the mirror. Your outfits look planned, your sweats baggy and low, hoodie tucked up, hair that was once in a bun now halfway spilling down your cheeks, you let your body flow. Allowing your mind to go blank, you let yourself feel the music, your hips sway with his, your movements clean, you dance together like you choreographed it. 

“There you go,” he’s grinning again, nodding, encouraging, “my love, my love, my love.”

Four minutes and thirty-six seconds feels like a lifetime, yet no time at all. You and Wooyoung, your bluetoothed brains, and Justin Timberlake in the studio nearing eleven at night, you ended the song out of breath, staring at each other from feet away, as if you’re twenty-five all over again when San had just opened the studio. Brain cleared, endorphins released, you did feel lighter– not better, but lighter, like Wooyoung reached into your mind and took the edge off himself. 

“Feel better?” He’s smiling, chest heaving, hands on his hips, one knee bent with the other holding his weight. 

You nod, tugging on your ponytail to free your hair, just to pull it up all over again. Walking toward him, you’re still out of breath, “We should have recorded that.”

“We can do it again,” he offers, “although I don’t think we’ll ever reach that level of synchronicity without choreography again.”

You laugh, a lighthearted thing, “No, I think that was the extent of our bluetooth abilities.”

He takes a step forward, throwing his arms out to wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I missed dancing with you.”

He smells like home, woodsy, spicy, sweaty– you can’t help the way you drink him in, letting the smell of him calm something primal, something integral in your soul. 

Wooyoung is convinced you’re the only person in the world that can steal the breath from his lungs just by looking at him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, chin tucked into his chest, looking up at him with those big eyes he could get lost in, his breath catching in his throat is a verbal sound. He can feel the heat in the base of his spine, he settles into your touch as it spreads through him like wildfire, his heart picking up speed, pounding harder against his chest.

Holding you like this, wanting you like this, like he has since the day he first saw you– around a fire, in the backyard of a house party at Seonghwa’s place, sat next to San with a cute, shy little smile on your cheeks. He thought you were San’s girlfriend, he assumed it from the way you looked at each other, spoke to each other. Stars in your eyes, a soft, comforting tenderness in your voice that turned your words into song, Wooyoung thought he’d lost before he even entered the game.

But then he watched San leave your side for the pretty brunette from his dance class, the guy Wooyoung kept his eye on, taller than San, muscular, beautiful. Mere minutes went by before San kissed him, and even if San was shorter, smaller, Wooyoung watched as he dominated the kiss, hands in his hair, making the taller man cower for him. Obey him, even just in a kiss. 

Then you stood, sauntering over in your ripped denim that hugged your ass perfectly, one hand on San’s shoulder had him pulling away fully, dimples out in a smile, face flushed with a hazy, lustful stare. You talked, talked, and talked before San was grabbing you by the hand, the man following behind you both as you left. The three of you, together, you left together.

Wooyoung was left confused– aroused, curious, hopeful, but still so fucking confused. He asked around, Yeosang told him the nature of your relationship, that San’s known you forever, that you do that sometimes. Casually. You weren’t dating– but you fucked. Other people. Together. 

Wooyoung wanted to be next. 

He wanted you. He wanted San. He wanted both of you. Carnally. 

But that day never came. He formed a friendship with you easily, with San easily, the three of you becoming a trio that did everything together, but your hobby, your past-time after a party, never included him. In fact, it stopped altogether when Wooyoung became involved.

It’s not like he didn’t try, he’s flirty by nature, it comes as easily to him as breathing, but eventually he accepted that your relationship, your friendship, had taken root in something platonic. It bloomed into the best thing that’s ever happened to him, two people that love him fully, unconditionally, but by the time he moved into your shared apartment, he had to pluck the petals off the basis of his interest– his arousal, his want, his need, tucked away in his back pocket like it was never there to begin with. 

It became easy, over time, until San kissed him for the first time, restarting all the work he’s done, placing him back at square one. Three in the morning in the kitchen of the apartment, the only light over the sink, dimmed and low, San took Wooyoung by his cheeks and made him feel like San wanted him the whole time, too. 

And he did, Wooyoung learned. And he still wanted you. So did Wooyoung. 

“I missed it, too,” you whisper, your face too close, he has to swallow down his instinct, every fiber of his being that tells him to fucking kiss you. Dancing with you, it’s something the two of you used to do often when San first opened the studio, when you weren’t as busy, as successful as you are now. 

Sometimes San was included, in the corner of the room, correcting your form with a smile on his dimpled cheeks, amusement on his tongue, sometimes he was dancing with you, too. Late into the night, sometimes a few seltzers added into the mix, those nights Wooyoung could have sworn there was an understanding between the three of you, that there was a layer of arousal, of want, those nights Wooyoung prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d repeat history with him. For him. The way you looked at him, the glint in your eye, even now, more often than not you looked at Wooyoung like you wanted him to pin you to the floor beneath you. 

For years that look has given him hope, that eventually something will happen, something will bloom between the three of you. It won’t just be him and San pining over you while they try to fill the gap with each other.

He hasn’t seen that look once since you caught him with San. You said you were fine, okay, that their relationship doesn’t bother you, that you’re happy for them– and there’s truth to it somewhere, Wooyoung assumes the truth is mixed into the lies, that you weren’t completely bullshitting him, the only reason they tried to set you up with Yunho is because they were convinced it’d never happen with you. They gave up. At least Yunho was a nice guy. 

His arms lift from your shoulders to push your hair away from your face, stray pieces that had fallen even if you’d just put it up, barefaced, maybe some mascara on your lashes, he’s stunned the way he always is. So beautiful it makes his stomach hurt, your skin soft in his palms, warm in such an inviting way, he doesn’t want to let go. His voice tumbles out small, “You’re so pretty, Shy.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. His eyes look so soft, a fond smile on his lips while his eyes glance at yours like he was going to kiss you, while he looks at you like he loves you, he does love you–  it’s different. It looks different. Chest turning tight, stomach doing a flip, your arms uncurl from around his waist, you break away from him quickly like he burned you, the loss of warmth hits hard even if you were the one who enforced it. “You shouldn’t do that,” your tone comes out harsher than you wanted it to, voice slightly broken, stressed. Panicked. 

Wooyoung’s brows furrow, “What? I- Shy.”

“It’s disrespectful,” you don’t know why you’re speaking, where this is coming from. Your throat is tight, heart pounding against your breastplate, you bring your hand up to lay where it’s bursting from your chest. “You can’t do things like that anymore, Woo,” you’re avoiding his eye, head shaking rapidly, voice panicked and wary beyond control, “not anymore.”

“I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”

Wooyoung is pacing around San’s room, shirtless, his hair sticking out in every which way atop his head, oily after work, even more so from how many times he’s ran his hands through it. San, on his bed, also shirtless, briefs loose on his hips, wears furrowed brows and a solemn downcurve of his lips after hearing the story Wooyoung frantically woke him up to tell him. 

The younger man ripped his hoodie and his tee off his upper half upon entering the room, crawling onto San’s bed, shaking him awake. Eyes barely closed, he’d just fallen asleep, blinked awake upon the first shake of his shoulders, “Woo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I think Shy hates me,” his face was red even in San’s dark room, brows furrowed and voice panicked in a way he hadn't heard in a long time. 

San sits up halfway, turning over to face Wooyoung, “What? No she doesn’t, what happened?”

“We were at the studio, we danced, I called her pretty and she freaked out,” Wooyoung sits back, his breaths quick and uneven between his words, he toys with his fingers in his lap, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. “She called me disrespectful, Sannie, she said I can’t do that anymore, I don’t know what happened San, I–”

“Baby,” San reaches to put a hand on his cheek, taking note of how hot he felt, “calm down, breathe. Don’t say anything, breathe with me for a few and then we can talk, okay?”

Wooyoung’s first breath is shaky, panicked, like he couldn’t suck down air fast enough, couldn’t get it deep enough. San sits up fully, pressing a hand onto his diaphragm, keeping the other soft on his cheek, “Breathe, baby.”

A few counted breaths until he sounded even, one singular hot tear rolling down his cheek onto San’s palm, the older man leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “No matter what, she doesn’t hate you, okay? Tell me what happened.”

Wooyoung takes another two breaths before speaking, telling him the story from the start. How you looked at him like you were offended, like he’d just done the worst thing in the world, how you didn’t speak to him the entire subway ride home. How when you walked inside the apartment you barely greeted Sweetie, instead you silently gave him a treat from the counter before bringing him to your room, closing the door behind you. You didn’t even look at him, like he wasn’t beside you the whole time. 

Mid-story he’d jumped off the bed, began pacing back and forth on San’s carpeted bedroom floor, speaking a mile a minute, each word edged with panic like he’d done something despicable. 

“She hates me,” he finally stood in the middle of the room, voice cracking, “I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”

“No, Woo,” San shakes his head, voice soft and comforting, “knowing her, she thinks our dynamic changed. To her, we’re off-limits now, we can’t act the way we always have, can’t flirt and touch and do all the things that make us, us.”

He starts pacing again, hands running through his hair, tugging at his roots. San can barely see more than his shadow in his dark room, but he doesn’t need to see to know what look is on Wooyoung’s face, how his brows tie together, how he tucks his lips together, face splotched red. 

“I don’t want that!” Wooyoung keeps his voice a low cry, “I don’t want us to change. This isn’t what I wanted to happen, I want her to want us, I want her.”

“Come here,” San keeps his voice calm, steady. Wooyoung walks over, standing between San’s legs, one of his hands still in his hair. San leans forward, plants his palms on Wooyoung’s hips, “She has no idea how we feel about her, Woo. She’s trying to be fair, to keep her distance so she doesn’t hurt either of us. You know how her head works, baby.”

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” The way his voice breaks is like a shot through San’s heart. But San knows you better, he knows your mind, knows your soul, he’s known you since you gained consciousness, he’s watched them form, learned you as you grew.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, baby,” San whispers, tugging the younger man towards him, forcing his knees onto the bed, to bracket around his hips. He brings a hand up, petting his hair, sliding down to cup Wooyoung’s cheek, bringing him closer, “Everything is okay.”

Wooyoung presses his lips into San’s, hands landing on his broad shoulders, his body melting into San’s touch, finding comfort in his hard, broad body, his own sinking into him. Wooyoung’s hands travel to find his neck, his cheeks, deepening the kiss, his tongue poking out to slide into San’s mouth, still light, steady. 

Until San’s length twitches under Wooyoung, making the younger man smile into his mouth, “Yeah? Hard already?”

“Don’t tease me,” San is breathless, their lips still touching, “I’m supposed to be making you feel better.”

“Ah,” Wooyoung’s tone is still teasing, his grin spreading into a smirk, “I know how you can make me feel better.”

San snorts, head tipping back until he falls back onto the bed, letting Wooyoung crawl on top of him, his head tilting as Wooyoung leans his head down, pressing a kiss to one of San’s pecs, soft hands roaming his torso. Body shivering, San keeps his voice light, “Did you freak out just to fuck me? A ploy, huh?”

San can make the outline of Wooyoung’s scowl as he stares up at him, making San chuckle, Wooyoung bites down on his skin and he hisses. “I was stressed,” Wooyoung’s voice is sharp, “I still am stressed, but now I’m kinda horny and it’s your fault.”

San laughs again, hands coming up to tangle in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling him upward, “I’m sorry baby, I'll fix it for you, yeah?”

Thirty minutes rolling around in the sheets, keeping their voices quiet, their movements slow but not any less tantalizing, Wooyoung is filled, sated, skin sticky against San’s as he lays on the older man’s chest, dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat. 

Despite being woken up by Wooyoung, it’s harder for San to find sleep now, mind muddled with thoughts about you. Analyzing Wooyoung’s story, the details, how you looked at him– he wondered if there was a small chance you felt the same way towards them. 

While you were still in college, you and San had moments where lines blurred, he can still remember the nights where you brought someone home just to barely touch them. So wrapped up in each other, lost in pleasure, you almost forgot there was a third person there to play with. It didn’t just happen once, not even twice, it happened enough times to where you had to stop after the third person left angry and unsatisfied, an unsettling feeling floating around the room that neither of you had the balls to address. 

Always light, always casual, you explored pleasure together, different positions, different kinks, different dynamics for so long– he blamed those days on you two being young, horny, rabid animals, looking for a good fuck, a new skill to add to your arsenal. It was around the time you two met Wooyoung, San thinks, when that night happened, the last time you touched each other sexually. Still to this day, unspoken, swept beneath the rug. 

San sometimes wonders if the lines blurred sooner, he’s loved you since you were young, in high school even, it’s petrified him since he was a teenager to tell you how he feels. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if he told you, and your friendship ended? He couldn’t bear a life without you, he doesn’t know a life without you. 

Maybe he figured one day his feelings would dissipate into thin air, that he didn’t need you to love him back, that as long as he never told you, you’d still be friends. But then you fucked. And then you fucked again. And you kept fucking until San realized he’d never be satisfied with anyone else, that he needed you, he needed you to love him back, he needed to treat you how you deserved. 

 When you stared at him with wide eyes, crawled off the bed with shaky legs, retreating back to your room without a word, San almost laughed at himself. At his feelings. Because why would you ever love him back? He's watched you grow up, each phase, your best and your worst, that’s friend zone material, at least in his younger, twenty-something year old mind. 

But you never grew apart. And after the fucking stopped, the makeouts, the lazy hookups, the people you both thought were sexy and sought out together, it seemed to have added yet another layer of strength to your relationship. Vulnerability. A closeness you should never, ever have with a friend as close as you two are, it never ends well. 

Years later, still in the same boat. He still loves you the same. He still wants you the same. Somehow he got comfortable without the intimacy— or without the sexual aspect, he should say, because your relationship was full of intimacy. It never really bothered him, he never really yearned for more, until it was three in the morning and he had his fist wrapped around his cock with only you in his mind. 

Then he had Wooyoung, the sole person he’s entrusted with his feelings, sputtering words between Wooyoung’s tongue pushing between his lips, so obviously confessing feelings that he’s kept trapped inside for over a decade, just to find out Wooyoung feels the same way. That he’s also wanted you since he laid eyes on you. 

It was confusing, the lack of possession, of jealousy in his gut. He already knew he wanted Wooyoung, living with the younger man only made him love him more, their friendship was already blurring lines the day they met. For awhile San thought maybe you felt it too, that maybe you saw how Wooyoung looked at you, maybe you realized San had never started treating you differently. That he loved you, that Wooyoung loved you, and it wasn’t all platonic. 

He wonders if you love them back. If there’s even a small, microscopic part of you that wants them, more than friendship, more than sex, even. Not that he’d decline you if you proposed sleeping together. For a week now, your spark’s been gone, the twinkle in your big, doe eyes you wear like an accessory was replaced with something dull, something sad. You blamed it on the date with Yunho— but was that really the truth? You barely told them any details, you kept it vague, you even blamed that on not wanting to think about it, talk about it. 

As he settles into the mattress beneath Wooyoung, one arm curled up to hold his head close to his chest, he wonders if you’re asleep in the other room, dreaming of more, too. 

“It’s fine,” you smile weakly at Wooyoung whose head is burrowing into your chest like he’d crawl inside and make a home there if you let him. “I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment, I just freaked out a little.”

His voice is muffled by your hoodie, your chest that his head was buried in, “Don’t apologize, please don’t apologize to me, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Woo,” you forced out a chuckle, flexing your body on the old, brown leather couch that he was forcing you deeper into, “look at me.”

He picks his head up, his pretty, bronzy, bare face is littered by splotches of cherry. You ruffle his hair, smelling your shampoo, a blend of grapefruit and vanilla, “I’m not mad, it’s fine. Let’s just be done with it, put it past us, okay?”

Wooyoung pouts, but he nods, then lays back on your chest all over again. You groan, shifting your body to get comfortable under his weight, wondering how the fuck they were hooking up on this thing when you have to fight for your life to get comfortable on it.

“Sannie,” you shout into the open, living room air, “come get your boyfriend off of me!” 

Wooyoung gasps, picking his head up to shout towards the hallway, “Don’t! I’m exactly where I want to be.” 

Your head tips back in a laugh, knees bent up on either side of his body that’s dead weight on top of you, arms caging you in against the couch. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

“You’re warm, let me stay,” he nuzzles his head into your hoodie further, his voice a sated mumble. 

You smack your teeth, eyeing the pink princess blanket between your bodies, “You’re laying on top of the blanket and you don’t have clothes on.” 

Shirtless, briefs on his legs, he snickers, guilty as charged. “You’re the only heat I need, baby.” 

“Woo.” 

“Too soon?” He picks his head up, brows lifted and eyes apologetic, “I’m sorry.” 

San comes out of the hallway, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water sinking down his temples, onto his bare shoulders, his chest from his still-soaked hair. It makes your breath stutter in your chest the way it always does, he’s so effortlessly perfect it makes you miss touching him, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers, sinking your nails into his strong, hard muscles. He smiles when he sees you, dimples prominent, he says nothing as he crosses the room with bare feet, nothing on his body but gray sweats on his legs. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn, seeing the twinkle of mischief in his eye, how his grin turns from soft to playful. 

He ignores you by crawling onto the couch, shoving you into the back of it so he can take up the side, the couch just big enough to squeeze the three of you, only if San’s strength is on the outside to keep you boxed in.

You yelp as your body sinks into the couch, “San! I was comfortable.” 

“You’re only comfortable on the L part,” San quips, body nuzzling into yours, Wooyoung giggling from below you.  

“The chaise?” You snort, eyes flickering up to his that stare right back, “we’ve had two sectionals since we got this apartment, and you don’t know it’s called a chaise?” 

He giggles, “I don’t care what it’s called, I just know that you like it.” 

“And you only sit in the corner,” Wooyoung adds, his head sinking down to lay on your stomach. Your ankles cross over his back as his arms curl under yours, more comfortable now that you’re tangled, his arms taking pressure off your lower back. 

“Let’s stay like this forever,” San doesn’t give you time to answer, squeezing in closer, pushing you and Wooyoung further to the back of the couch. He smells like his bodywash, sweet and soft, you would stay forever if you could. 

Your voice comes out strangled under the pressure of his body, “We’re gonna have to, because soon I’ll be dead. You’re gonna kill me if you keep pushing me into the couch, Sannie.” 

“I just want to keep you here,” he pouts, squishing his face closer until his nose presses against your cheek, “if I let you go, you’ll run away.” 

His wet hair bleeds into the pillow, quickly spreading to where your head lays, it brushes against the side of your head the closer he gets, it’s cold. You squirm, “Your hair is freezing, Sannie, holy shit, there’s too much happening right now.” 

San whines, but he rolls off the couch, landing on one steady foot, standing up. You suck in a breath, but your pillow’s already soiled, you frown. He grins. 

“I’m going to the studio,” he says swiftly, “come with me, I have a few things to do before the day starts.”

You groan, lip lifting in protest, “I don’t have a rehearsal ‘til six.”

“Lucky,” Wooyoung mumbles, “Mine’s at four.”

“I know when yours is,” you mumble back, “I was gonna enjoy my alone time.”

“Freak,” San teases, a smile playing on his lips, amused at what he insinuated.

Wooyoung’s laugh is loud, piercing through the room, “That was a good one.”

Your brows raise, deadpanning, “And what if you’re right, hm? What then?”

They both turn to look at you, faces serious, both silently asking really?

It’s your turn to laugh, head tipping back into the pillow, and they both groan, San walking away, Wooyoung pushing off of you. It makes you laugh harder, talking through it, “Come on, that was a good one, you should have seen your faces.”

“Are you seriously not gonna come?” San, brows raised, asks from the entry to the hallway. “We can stop for food on the way, the three of us can hangout before everyone else shows up.”

You make a show of shaking your head back and forth, “I have shit to do here before work.”

Wooyoung smacks his teeth, “Like what? Laundry?”

You flatten your lips, “Have you seen the mountain of clothes in my room?”

San snorts, disappearing into the hallway, and Wooyoung finally climbs off the couch, “Fine, do your laundry, but I know you’ll miss us.”

“I’ll miss you so bad,” you’re wearing a smile now, watching him with lazy eyes as he follows behind San into the hallway, disappearing into the shadow of the walls. 

Your smile falters, settling, before a frown takes its place. Soon enough, probably sooner than you think, you’re sure you won’t be able to do this anymore– spend so much time with them, cuddle with them, live with them, eventually they’ll grow sick of you, they’ll only want each other. 

There’s already no room for you in their relationship, and with time, you’re sure the space they’ve carved out for you will dwindle to nothing. Looking across the room, you find Sweetie sunbathing beneath the window, his head politely tucked over his paws, the sun casting a shiny glow over his black coat, the sight makes you smile. You call him over and immediately he’s jumping onto the couch, laying on you where Wooyoung had just been, replacing the warmth he’d ripped away. 

“At least I have you,” you whisper, smiling, fingers scratching under his ears. 

“Yunho!” Wooyoung all but whispers, his loud voice carrying down the aisle, perking his tall friends’ ears. The older man whips his head around in confusion, smiling when he sees Wooyoung and San, giving them a small wave before walking down the aisle to greet them properly.

Stopping in a mid-sized corner store, the halfway point between the studio and home, San made good on his promise to pick up food on the way into work; Wooyoung was already giddy before seeing Yunho, this corner store was his favorite, it sold his favorite energy drink. 

“Whatsup?” Yunho’s grin is wide as he clasps the hand of both men, pulling them both into a hug, landing a smack on their backs. “You guys going to Steer on Friday? I heard it’s got a weird industrial, mechanical vibe to it, I don’t know. Joong seems pretty hype about it.”

San and Wooyoung both nod, but it’s San who answers, “Yeah, yeah, we wouldn’t miss it.”

“Sounds weird, though,” Wooyoung adds, “do you know if the drinks are cheap?”

“Three bucks a beer,” Yunho’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth, nodding, and the three men erupt into what can only be described as men-turned-pelicans finding an endless pit of fish to feed on. 

They’re all smiles and laughter until Yunho asks if you’re going, which sparks the two men’s memory, Wooyoung and San’s backs standing a little straighter, entering Shy-defense-mode.

“I…” San begins, then turns to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, already staring at him, blinks, then turns to Yunho, “Maybe?” He gives it a second, then blurts, “Can I just ask what happened between you two?” 

San’s lips tighten, head falling until his chin tucks into his chest. They shouldn’t have asked, Wooyoung shouldn’t have asked, but he can’t help his curiosity– he wants to know, too. They haven’t gotten anything besides vague answers from you. 

Yunho’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It makes San curious, too curious for his own good, he adds, “We won’t say anything, she just won’t tell us anything, and we’re worried about her, y’know?”

Yunho’s chin tilts in defense, brows flattening, “I didn’t– it was just–”

“We’re not accusing you of anything bad,” Wooyoung waves his hands out in front of him, eyes wide, chucking nervously. “Shy said you were really great to her, it just didn’t work out, or something. She cried for like an entire day after and wouldn’t tell us any more details.”

San frowns with remembrance, how you shut yourself away and wouldn’t let them in, figuratively and literally. When Wooyoung’s hand falls to his side, San grabs it, giving him an encouraging squeeze, the two meeting eyes with small, fond smiles painted on their cheeks. Yunho’s eyes lock on the action, on their smiles, confusion morphing his features, everything scrunching together at once.

“What?” San asks, “Was everything okay? You’re both being so ominous about it.”

Yunho’s eyes flicker upward, meeting San’s, spouting, “Are you guys together?”

“Us?” San asks, surprised, eyes wide and brows high. 

San and Wooyoung share a look, then reluctantly, they nod. Wooyoung smiles, “Yeah, we’re together.”

“Like, just the two of you?” Yunho has a finger pointed, dancing between the two of them. 

San’s head turns in question, “Yes?”

Yunho’s jaw drops, nodding slowly, then with a pitched, disbelieving tone, he mumbles, “No shit.”

“I know,” San nods with a knowing smile, thinking he’s got all of Yunho’s thoughts figured out. “Long time coming, though.”

“It’s been like, a little over a week of us being together officially,” Wooyoung adds, his grin proud and wide, “but it’s been good so far. We’re happy.”

“Does she know?” Yunho asks, his face quickly settling back into confusion. 

Wooyoung’s lips purse, “Yeah, she knows. Why?”

Yunho nods slowly again like he’s thinking, then shakes his head quickly when Wooyoung’s question settles. “No reason, just wondering. Anyways, I’ve really gotta run, I’ve got this thing that I’m already late to and… art, and you know, yeah. Bye.”

“Wait, you didn’t–”

“Sorry guys, see you Friday though, yeah?” Yunho gives them a brief smile, then scurries down the aisle like Wooyoung and San were about to put the plague in his palms. 

Wooyoung and San stand there for a second, brows furrowed, heads tilted, before they look at each other utterly dumbfounded. Wooyoung points down the aisle, “Was that homophobic?” 

San, still confused, responds, “Perhaps.”

“Hm,” Wooyoung’s eyes thin, “could’ve sworn him and Mingi fucked before.”

“I thought so too,” San squeezes his hand again, “who cares? We can snitch on him Friday.”

Wooyoung’s grin returns, laughing loud enough for the whole bodega to hear, “Imagine Hongjoong’s face.”

“Hongjoong would beat the shit out of him with one hand, Naoya style.”

The more San thinks about it, the more he thinks Yunho might not actually be homophobic at all. 

“Don’t call me schizophrenic.”

Wooyoung snorts, “Are you about to say something that will make me think you’re schizophrenic?”

“Maybe,” San responds, lips scrunched. Sitting at the receptionist desk at the front of the studio, the final piece of San’s thought process clicked into place when you brushed past them into your studio for rehearsal. “I think Shy might love us back.”

Wooyoung, sitting fully on the desk beside San, wears a white tank on his upper half, exposing the tattoo on his forearm, black sweats on his lower, hiding each inch of bronzy, toned muscle. He’s housing a granola bar, his knees spread, back hunched, brows raised as he watches San think. 

“That interaction with Yunho was kinda weird,” San begins, leaning back into the rolling computer chair, hands lazily thrown at the center of his spread thighs. In all black, his clothes look painted on, tee clinging to his chest, his arms, his torso, sweats exposing the breadth of his thighs. 

“We knew this already,” Wooyoung nods, sticking out his free hand in a rolling motion, “let’s skip to the Shy part.”

“What if she was crying the whole day after her date with Yunho because of us?” His eyes flicker up to look at Wooyoung, who only raises a brow. “What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”

“Why would she even go on the date then?”

San deadpans, “Did she want to even go on that date?”

Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening, “Oh my god, she definitely did not want to go on that date. What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”

San rolls his eyes, and then literally rolls the chair away from Wooyoung who tips his head back in laughter. “I’m sorry, come back,” he says through his laughter, “please? I’ll stop, I’m sorry. It just sounds like we’re grasping for straws here.”

“Why else would Yunho be so weird about us being together?” San continues, rolling the chair until he’s between Wooyoung’s spread legs, he lays both palms on his knees. “And when he asked ‘just the two of you’? Come on, he basically told us the whole damn story.”

Wooyoung holds onto his granola bar with two hands, eyes closing as he terribly sings, “Just the two of us… We can make it if we try, just the two of us…”

“Listen to me, Wooyoung. I’m being serious.”

It seems to lock him back in, Wooyoung meeting San’s eye, his back straightening a little. San’s lips perk upward, his groin opening an eye at the easy display of submission– not the time. 

“Okay, fine. But I do think you’re a little insane and grasping for straws.”

San smacks his teeth, “I’ll prove it to you, then.”

“Yeah?” Wooyoung cracks a smile, “How are you gonna do that? That night in the studio set us back, like, five years.”

“You don’t know her like I know her,” San sits back in the computer chair again, smirk crawling its way onto his cheeks, his arms crossing over his chest. 

Wooyoung scowls, “Are you flexing on me right now?”

“No!” San shakes his head, “I’m just saying, I think I could get her to crack if she does want us back.”

“And why would you do it any better than I could?” Wooyoung’s voice is sharper, “I wanted her to begin with, you know.”

“And I was fucking her before you ever laid eyes on her,” San responds in the same tone, “don’t get cocky with me, not when it comes to this.”

Wooyoung’s brows raise, back arching ever so slightly at the tone of San’s voice. There’s amusement playing in his words as he says, “Wow, never thought I’d see the day you get possessive.”

“With you, there’s no reason to, it’s not a competition,” San shrugs, “besides right now. You struck a nerve.”

Wooyoung smiles, hopping down from the desk to place a fat kiss on San’s lips, “You love me.”

San’s dimples are on display in a smile as he lifts his arms to grab Wooyoung by his cheeks, leaning up off the chair to kiss the younger man again, “That I do.”

“You’re really gonna try?” Wooyoung asks again, leaning against the counter, his legs crossed between San’s as he takes another bite of his granola bar. “Even after my studio debacle with her?”

San nods, “I’m optimistic about it, I know, but I really do think I’m right.”

San learned to enjoy cooking before he learned to enjoy being in the gym. Him and his mother in the kitchen, teaching him recipes she’s carried through her years learned from her own mother, to recipes he’s learned from cookbooks and the internet that fall within the strict guidelines of his diet. 

It turned from sustainability to passion— cooking became a love language before he knew it, and the main reason is because he’s always loved cooking for you most. More so since the two of you moved in together, even more so when Wooyoung moved in, too. Cooking for the three of you, to eat at the kitchen table, on the couch, even if he was dropping off plates to you in your bedrooms… San loved it. Adored it. 

For you to enjoy something he made for you warmed his blood until it sizzled with affection, to know he was making a good, hearty, healthy meal to nourish you, he never thought cooking, of all things, would make him realize how deeply he’s in love. 

It’s a constant reminder every time his bare feet touch the tiled floor of the kitchen that he loves you, that he loves Wooyoung. Tonight it feels stronger, but maybe that’s the two glasses of wine and his pink cheeks talking. The way you’re dancing about the kitchen, twirling in nothing but a big tee, singing along to the song playing from the speaker you keep in the kitchen— the confession is laying right below his skin, on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. After his realization, a bubble of hope so big you could pop it with a fingernail, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it in. 

You’re laughing at something he said, his tipsy mind doesn’t even know what it was, but your laugh is so loud and so involuntary it squeezes the life out of his lungs. He wants to pick you up and put you on the counter, his hands on your perfect thighs as your ankles hook around his back, he wants to kiss you. He wants to feel you laugh into his mouth. He misses you. 

“I don’t want to talk about me at eighteen,” you shake your head, still giggling. Your hair is in a bun atop your head, messy, pieces hanging out like you tied it without looking in the mirror. Barefaced, no pants, no bra, this is his favorite version of you, the one that doesn’t care, the one that’s perfectly comfortable being in your own skin.

“Why not? I loved you at eighteen, too,” San turns back around before his cock begins stirring in his pants— he stirs the pot on the stove, instead. 

You come up behind him, on your tippy toes to place your chin on his shoulder. Still smiling, teeth stained with a faint, deep red, “Yeah? You loved me, huh?”

San knows it’s the wine talking, you’d never be so bold otherwise. He doesn’t even think you’re being serious. But, being himself, his brows dance above his eyes as he says, “Of course I did, I still love you.” 

You roll your eyes, smile faltering for just a second before it returns with vengeance, “I thought you meant you loved me, you goof.” 

Should he just say it? Should he? His back straightens a little. Uneasy, voice a little shaky, he tries, “I did, I had a– a huge crush on you when we were eighteen.” 

Your eyes blow wide, spinning around next to him to press your back up against the counter, palms folding around the edge. Surprised, but a little disbelieving, your jaw drops, “No way.” 

“I’m serious!” I still have it to this day. “When you dated that one guy— fuck, what was his name?” 

“Mark.” 

“Mark, that’s it. When you dated him senior year, I was so mad, I can remember being at graduation and being so fucking jealous that you were kissing him for pictures.” 

You gasped out a laugh, mortified, shocked, stomach dropping with what you could have had, “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say?” San steps to the side, half of his body taking up all of yours. He pretends like he doesn’t notice how small you are beneath his body. “‘Hey Shy, I know we’ve known each other all our lives, but in the past few years I’ve actually formed a gigantic huge crush on you. Sorry if it ruins the friendship.’”

“Exactly that, yes,” you’re laughing again, nodding, head tilting to the side as you look up at him with those fucking eyes. He loves them, so big and full of knowledge, experience, maturity and grace that is only expressed in the most you way. In a quieter voice, like you’re afraid to say it, you mumble, “I guess that explains college then, huh?”

There’s a pit in his stomach, one full of gasoline, and you just dropped a lit match down his throat without even realizing it. 

“There’s a lot that could explain college,” San smirks, one dimple arriving at the scene, moving so he’s fully standing in front of you, caging you in between himself and the counter. He presses his hands into the ledge, voice teasing, light and airy, “Like how we wanted each other, and were using a third person as an excuse?” 

Your smile falters, eyes widening. You swallow, San watches as your throat bobs, breath turning shallow, chest rising and falling beneath your tee. He can’t help the way his smirk grows, liquid confidence and too much optimism making his arm raise to brush a thumb over your cheek, reveling in how you twitch under his touch, eyelids fluttering. He remembers this body like it was his own, how you react to him, what gets your panties wet, what makes your toes fucking curl. He wants to show you how much he remembers you. 

“Are you guys talking about college again?” 

You gasp loudly, jumping, body slithering out of San’s clutch and into the open floorplan of the kitchen, all in a few quick, panic-driven movements. With a hand clutched over your heart, you’re out of breath, “Fuck, Woo, you scared me.” 

“I could feel the jealousy simmering in my bones, I knew you had to be talking about college,” he’s leaning against the archway, playful smirk on his lips, golden skin gleaming beneath the warm light of the kitchen. Shirtless, body on display, an ankle crossed over the other with a pair of baggy basketball shorts on… fuck Wooyoung for interrupting him, but fuck, San might actually get hard with the both of you half-dressed. 

You roll your eyes, taking two steps before you press your back against the other side of the counter, using your palms to lift you up over the edge. Exactly how San wants you, how he imagined you, his breath catches in his throat. He turns back around instead of dwelling on it. 

“Shut up, Woo,” he hears you mumble, “those days have long ended. Should’ve met us earlier.” 

Wooyoung whines, uncurling his arms from his chest to walk further into the kitchen, stopping in front of you with his palms pressed to your knees, “What, you don’t miss it, Shybaby? Not even a little?” 

San turns the knob on the stove until the flame lowers to a small flicker, stirring the roux in the pot. He turns his head halfway, side-eyeing Wooyoung whose back is slightly arched as he stares up into you, hands now planted against the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs, so confident, not a shred of insecurity in him. San wonders how he’s managed a complete one-eighty from the night he woke him up to freak out. Maybe he’s really making this a competition. 

You stiffen, eyes widening. Tipsy, but not drunk enough to admit something like that.  A nervous laugh stutters from your lips, “I— What? Like I said, that ship has sailed. Those days are over. The baton has been passed to you, Woo.” 

You use one hand on Wooyoung’s bare shoulder and the other pressed to the countertop to haul yourself off of it, landing swiftly on bare feet. Scrambling out of the kitchen towards the living room, you call over your shoulder, “Let me know when dinner’s ready, I’m gonna lay down, the wine went straight to my head, I think.” 

Wooyoung waits a moment before he turns to stare at San, eyebrows flat. San tightens his lips, an insult in his eyes, whispering, “Why did you interrupt?”

Wooyoung crosses the kitchen, his voice a sharp whisper, “I thought you already did it. Do you know how it looked from over there?”

Leaving the roux, he leans up against the counter, arms crossing, “We would have been making out by now if you didn’t interrupt.”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whines, “it’s fine, just try again.”

San covers his face with his hands, “You know what?” His hands lay on his boyfriend’s shoulders, “What I just did will hit its mark, maybe if you try next, we can get the point across without having to actually say it. Then she will come to us.”

“If I try then she won’t have to come to us,” a cocky grin spreads across the younger man’s face, “it’ll be game-point. You’ll come home to find us fucking.”

San’s lips thin, but he doesn’t respond. At this point he doesn’t care how it happens, as long as it happens. 

You thought the wine had left your system hours ago, after the meal Sannie made you, especially after a movie on the couch. The wine is the only explanation for your insides feeling warm and gooey— not the fact that across the hall, you could hear the squeaking of the mattress, the bedframe hitting the wall repeatedly, strangled moans leaving two men’s lips that you could tell they were trying to keep inside. 

Sweetie slept on his bed on your floor, head buried in the gray plush, waking up every few minutes or so from an especially loud moan or a shrill bang of wood against wall. Even your fucking dog was losing sleep. 

You’ve never heard them before, not once. Not once. Why tonight, after having both of their hands on you, their eyes staring into you, after the question Wooyoung asked? Do you miss it? The fear that zapped up on your spine was so intense you needed to lay down and close your fucking eyes. 

Confusing as much as it was scary, Wooyoung speaks of jealousy, but asks you if you miss fucking his boyfriend? Was it a kink to them? Is that why they’re fucking now?

They get off on other people wanting them… Wanting each other… That had to be it. The jealousy aspect, of reclaiming one another, and they used you to do it of all people?! It’s worse than mean, it’s worse than rude, it’s cruel. Cruel to dangle their relationship in front of your face after flirting with you— even if flirting with you is all they’ve ever done. 

You can remember meeting Wooyoung for the first time, sitting with him in a smoke circle, laughing your heart out when only three or four words had left his mouth. You ended up in tears, cheeks aching, lungs empty and dry, by the time everyone up and left and it was only the two of you left, he’d come onto you. Your first time meeting, even if he said he took notice of you far earlier, around that same smoke circle.

You can’t remember why you’d said no, how you rejected him. You had a feeling, maybe, that your relationship with him would grow far deeper than one night spent together in a cloud of hazy lust. Still to this day you remember that ache, laughing so hard you nearly gagged, eyes locked in on him, waiting for the next hilarious thing to leave his lips. It became routine, the next time you saw him out, the time Sannie introduced you to him when you already knew each other, when your name fell from his lips for the first time, Wooyoung has always, always looked at you with a certain look in his eye— like he was waiting for the smile to kiss your cheeks, for the laugh to fall from your lips. 

You don’t remember exactly when your duo with San had turned to three. Wooyoung only moved in two years ago, but you’ve been close for years now, since that night around the smoke circle, passing three joints amongst nine people. 

Maybe you were meant to become friends with him so he could end up with San, so the two of them could knock their headboard against your fucking wall and remind you that you’d never be on the inside. 

It felt sour. 

Yet for some reason, the hurt laying low in your tummy swam with the heat, the desire, curling into a pit of fire-hot pressure you couldn’t ignore. You’d already pushed the sheets off your body, already tugged your shirt up, desperate for air. You tried a pillow over your head, squeezing cotton against your ears. You went on your phone, scrolled Twitter, watched a few TikToks, tried your favorite ASMRtist. 

Laying low in the background was them. Endless. San’s low grunts, Wooyoung’s pitched whines, they poured through the thin wall separating your rooms, surrounding you like wildfire. They were everywhere, in the air, on your skin, in your sheets, but the ache curled low, settling into nothingness because you could hear the pleasure but were feeling none of it. 

You gasped as you heard it— one singular line gritted through San’s teeth, “Yeah? Gonna be good for me?”

You bent your knees up, head tipping back into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut. Your fingertips tapped against the bed, pushing a heavy sigh through pursed lips. That voice, his tone, the actions that accompany it, your memories are your personal hell. You could see them, Sannie bending Wooyoung in half, a foot planted on the bed as he drilled into him. 

Then Wooyoung whimpered, “Yes, please. So good for you— I’ll be good, please, fuck me Sannie—”

Your lips parted, a shaky breath slipping through. Your body was steaming, ears straining to listen to every last fucking detail even if you didn’t want to hear any of it. Even if it hurt, you needed it like water, like air, so badly you wanted to get up out of bed and walk in there. 

“That’s it,” San grunted, you could see the sweat beading between his pecs, “stay down, don’t fucking move.”

You bit your lip as your hands traveled to your thighs. Nails scraping against your skin, your nipples pebbled against the open air of your room, shame and embarrassment twisting with the rest of everything curling in your gut. Arousal, jealousy, rage, nostalgia, shame, hurt— you needed your panties off. It felt unethical, you should put on headphones, you should leave, you should do anything but dip two fingers into your panties. 

You moaned as your fingers made contact with your clit. Immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, back arching into your own touch, ignoring the flame of shame completely as your eyes fluttered closed. You eased yourself into the pleasure, breath picking up as Wooyoung’s moans grew louder, the smack of San’s hips landing harder. 

Your other hand sank down to toy with a nipple while your fingers circled your clit in tight, rhythmic movements, eyelids twitching as their pleasure became your own. Timing your movements with theirs, lips parting when a moan sank through drywall, you let your mind drift, placing yourself in the fantasy. 

Laying up against Sannie’s chest, Wooyoung between your thighs. On top of Wooyoung, hips circling his as Sannie pushed up against your back, hands on your chest, one sinking down to rub circles on your clit. Sitting on Sannie’s lap just like Wooyoung had the night you caught him, chests pressed together, hands in hair, hips mindlessly rutting together, Wooyoung on your back as if you really were between them that night. 

The movie played in color in your mind, so vivid, like it was happening— with noise melting walls, it felt real. Lost in the pleasure, in the fantasy, you didn’t realize their volume had lowered, that their movements slowed. 

“Sannie, stop, stop,” Wooyoung splayed a hand behind him, head perked up, face still twisted in pleasure, but his lips stayed parted like he couldn’t believe his ears. 

“What?” Concerned, San had two palms on Wooyoung’s hips, pausing immediately, “Are you okay? What's wrong?” 

“Listen,” Wooyoung whispered, like if he spoke too loud, you’d hear him. That you’d stop. 

San’s brows furrowed, lips parting to question, but then he heard it. Small, faint whimpers, and then a moan— a genuine, raw, unbridled fucking moan, yours. He recognized it, he knows it, he’s forced it out of your lips, his hips grind into Wooyoung’s warmth out of instinct.

Wooyoung’s head dropped, arm bending until his elbow hit the mattress, a low moan spilling from his lips as his arm slipped between his thighs, tugging on his length. His voice comes out low, ragged, “I can’t believe this.”

“Fuck,” San cursed low, long, hips picking up again, slow but steady, quiet enough to hear your sounds float through the wall. “She– I–, Woo.” 

“Yes,” Wooyoung whispered, moaned, hips fucking back onto San’s length in a nasty, slow grind, “wish she was in here, sh- it, want her hands on me.” 

San’s fingertips squeezed into the plush of Wooyoung’s ass, face scrunching together in pleasure, a silent moan leaving his slacked jaw. The shock, the debrief would have to come later.

“You— you wanna fuck her while I fuck you? Hm?” 

Wooyoung arched deeper, fisting his length faster, picking up speed all over again, drowning out your noise. San wasn’t faring much better, hips stuttering into Wooyoung, one hand sliding up to claw fingers into his boyfriend’s back. 

“Yes, Sannie,” Wooyoung cried, “just like that, don’t— don’t stop, don’t stop, ‘m close.” 

San’s eyes stayed locked onto where the two met, watching how Wooyoung’s ass rippled with each harsh thrust of his cock, the end approaching too fucking fast. 

A few more thrusts until he was hunched over, drooling onto Wooyoung’s back as he filled him up, Wooyoung’s release spilling all over the comforter beneath them. They didn’t even get as far as undoing the sheets. 

Dinner, a few glasses of wine, a movie with too much touching, Wooyoung was already dirty talking San before they opened up the bedroom door. Cocky smirk on his pretty lips, head tilted, eyes sparkling, teasing him about you— oh, he was begging to get fucked. San’s been overly careful of your presence for awhile now, never too loud, keeping Wooyoung’s mouth on a tight leash when you’re home. 

But Wooyoung pushed each and every button tonight, all concerning you. How he’d fuck you better, how you’d crack when he tried, how he’d treat you better than San, San put one hand around his throat and the rest unfolded in a mess of teeth, tongue and lube. To hear you through the wall, getting off to them, was the cherry on top. They needed to do something, now. 

San ripped the comforter off the bed and crawled beneath the sheet, not caring if Wooyoung spilled into them as he settled over San’s chest, their breath still heavy, hearts still pounding.

“You seriously think she was getting off to us?” San asked Wooyoung, brows raised in innocence, in fear of what he thought to be true, being false. He kept his voice low, a small whisper.

Wooyoung, fully out of breath, chest still heaving and soaked in sweat, laughed. A hearty chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair, smile lingering, “Yes, baby. Bet she’s in there nervous as hell that we heard her.” 

You sat up in your bed, chest heaving, eyes wide, right hand still shaky. Fuck. There’s no way they heard you, right? Too wrapped up in each other, they were loud, there’s no way they heard you over the sound of themselves. You looked over to Sweetie in panic, only easing when you saw his head still tucked into his half-torn bed, eyes closed, breathing even. 

If Sweetie wasn’t bothered, then they definitely didn’t hear you. 

You lay flat against your bed, mind whirling, so fucking confused because that was so hot but it wasn’t right. Masturbating to the sound of your two roommates, two best friends who were in a relationship fucking, it wasn’t morally correct, that you knew before your fingers slipped into your panties. Post-nut clarity seeping in, you’re met with regret, guilt, and the urge to give up. 

Reminding yourself was painful– they don’t want you, they want each other. There’s no room for you in their relationship. 

Maybe you’ll go with them to that fuckass bar tomorrow. Maybe Yunho will be there. Nothing could be worse than living with this. 

San and Wooyoung had enough. 

The morning after the multi-room sex debacle, you pretended like nothing happened. They supposed that to you, nothing did happen, you had no idea they heard you, and they weren’t going to say anything, either. You’d die of embarrassment if they brought it up, and they’ve come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be the best start of a blooming relationship. They at least thought you would question it, question them. But you didn’t. 

Their patience was running thin. 

The bar was loud, pop music floating through the space, a newer bar with an industrial look to it that left everything open. The ceilings showed the pipes, the walls looked to be something like steel, the decor had a very factory-mechanical vibe to it that they couldn’t quite explain– but the drinks were cheap and the music was good. With all of your friends here, they didn’t care much, anyhow, their main focus was that you wanted to be here, you wanted to blow off steam, let loose and let go after a hectic week. 

They wondered how much of that excuse had to do with them. 

You stood at the bar, one foot propped up on the exposed pipe lying at the base, tapping Wooyoung’s credit card against the bar. San leaned into him, their shoulders touching, both of their eyes locked in on you, watching like they always did. God forbid they took their eyes off of you. 

“You guys are gonna go cross-eyed if you keep staring,” Seonghwa muttered from across the circular table, settled in the booth beside his boyfriend, Hongjoong. 

“How could we not stare?” Wooyoung was quick to answer. “Have you seen her?” 

“I thought you guys were together now,” Hongjoong’s brows furrowed, eyes bouncing between Wooyoung and San, fingers tapping against his glass, his draft beer halfway gone by now. 

“We are,” San shrugged, “just trying to get her with us, too.”

Wooyoung snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jongho interrupted, leaning forward between Mingi and Yeosang, separating the couple. “You’re trying to be in… what, a throuple?”

“Yeah,” San and Wooyoung answered at the same time, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Actually, I’m not even going to question it,” Yeosang shook his head, bringing the straw in his fruity cocktail up to his lips. “San’s always had a thing for her.”

Mingi leans forward, a smile on his pink lips, agreeing with his boyfriend immediately, “Right? I thought you guys would end up together, or really, I kinda thought you were secretly together this whole time.”

San’s cheeks, already pink, must have turned four shades darker. He didn’t have time to answer though, Hongjoong cutting in immediately, “Sounds messy. Does she know you want her?”

Wooyoung’s lips tighten as he shakes his head, “Don’t know, maybe.”

“Didn’t she just go on a date with Yunho?” Jongho asks, one of his brows popped. 

San sighs, “That was before we knew she was interested in us, if she is.”

“She is interested in you?” Mingi looks completely confused.

“See?” Hongjoong shakes his head. “Messy.”

Wooyoung nudges San with his elbow, speak of the fucking devil, grabbing his boyfriend’s attention to watch Yunho approaching you at the bar, a pitstop on his way back from the bathroom. Immediately there’s a fire in his gut, jealousy spreading like wildfire to each nerve ending in his body, it doesn’t help that Yunho looks hot tonight. Baggy cargos on his legs, tight tee on his torso, oversized button down hanging loose off his shoulders, fuck him. Why is he approaching you like the two of you are friendly or something?

Last they heard, you didn’t want him, you wanted them. So why is Yunho talking to you like he’s hitting on you? Why is your hand on his forearm? What could he possibly be saying that makes your head tip back in laughter? Yunho isn’t even that funny. 

There’s discomfort lining San’s eyebrows as he watches you lean into Yunho, seeming almost instinctive. He knows that look in your eye, the exact grin on your cheeks, what you’re insinuating even if he can’t hear a word falling from your glossy lips. He takes a slow breath, calming his heart rate before his mind warps what he sees into something completely different. 

Yunho’s his friend. If his hypothesis is correct, he knows how you feel about them, how they feel about you, wait– did they even tell Yunho how they feel about you? San’s eyes widen in panic as he turns to Wooyoung who already looks like he’s settled in his decision, jealousy in the hinge of his clenched jaw, his fingers mindlessly swirling the straw in his drink. 

San thinks they’re speaking around him, he can’t hear, he chooses not to listen. He watches as you lean forward, whispering something in Yunho’s ear. His chest feels heavy as Yunho looks down at the floor like he’s hiding flushed cheeks, an easy smile on his lips, body leaning closer to you as if San and Wooyoung weren’t sitting ten feet away. 

They’ve had enough. 

You were already smiling as Yunho approached you, having watched him make the few last steps to where you stood. “Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” he leans against the bar, “getting another drink?”

You flashed Wooyoung’s black card, a smirk on your cheeks, “Getting as many as I can stomach tonight.”

Yunho smacks his teeth, “Rough week?”

“You have no idea,” you say through an exhausted breath, “and you? Drinking tonight? I’m sure Woo won’t notice if I add another beer to his tab.”

Yunho’s eyes dance from the table back to you, “Oh, he’ll notice.”

“Trust me,” your lips scrunch together, disappointment on your face, “he won’t. He’s too focused on San.”

“They’re together?” Yunho lifts a brow, “like, together together?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tongue poking your cheek. “New development in the saga, I guess. Not a good one.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho frowns, “I did not expect that.”

You’re still nodding until a sigh is pulled from your lungs, “It does leave me single, though, like super single…” Your eyes flicker up to him, blinking through heavy lashes.

Yunho snorts, “Yeah? Were you not super single before?”

You laugh, a breathy little thing, leaning closer to him, a hand mindlessly landing on his forearm. “I was, but there was hope before. Now there’s nothing, like super confirmed, nothing.”

“Super,” Yunho nods, laughter still playing on his lips like he was fighting it back. It leaves you both giggling like kids, a hand covering your mouth as your head tips back. 

He looks pretty tonight, you realize. Undone, casual, like he didn’t put in too much effort. Baggy clothes on his body, hair a little disheveled, he looked comfortable. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system or the last bit of sanity you were clinging on to, but he looked… Different. Good, really good. 

“Are you still super single?” The question slips from your lips before you can think about it. 

Yunho’s brows raise, surprised, they quirk immediately after, confused. His eyes fly to the table, landing there for a moment before sliding back to you, “Oh,” he blinks, “oh. Yes, yeah, I’m still single.”

“Good,” you nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the heat you were so desperately missing the night you went out on your date. You needed something, a good fuck, a drunk hookup, something to distract you from how fucking miserable you felt. Hopeless was the better word, after coming to the sound of them fucking you’d never felt more pathetic in your life, you needed change, something, anything. 

“Do… you have plans after this?” Yunho’s face looked innocent, of all things. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking the question, the implication behind it, even though he seemed to see straight through you, what you needed.

The smirk that crawled onto your cheeks was anything but innocent. “Nope, completely free.”

“Good,” Yunho nodded, his smile a little more confident now. “Fuck the black card, let me buy you a drink.”

Your brows raised, a laugh falling past your lips as both your hands shoot up in defense, “Be my guest. You deserve a do-over.”

“No I do not,” he says through a laugh, “but you deserve to have some fun.”

You roll your eyes, snorting a laugh, “Please, we both know that date was not good.”

Yunho’s head turns back to the table again before taking your place leaning over the bar, ignoring your comment but definitely not denying it, “I’ll get us a round of shots.”

And he did– vodka, bitter and hot, it burnt your chest the entire way down. But it went down easy with the liquor already pooling in your gut, body warm enough to begin with. 

He bought you something fruity afterward, rum and juice, it tasted like candy— easy to sip on, easy to chug if need be. You stuck around the bar instead of heading back to the table, eyeing the dance floor on the other side of the bar, in easy conversation with Yunho who seemed like he had no intentions of heading back to the table, either. 

“Do you want to dance?” His eyes flicker to you, brows raised like he couldn’t quite gauge whether or not you’d say yes. 

“You know I teach dance for a living, right?” Your lips quirk on one side, “Of course I want to dance.”

“I can’t say I’m a great dancer,” Yunho admits, lips tightened in a line. “I sell art, there’s nothing fluid about walking around a gallery all day.”

You laugh, grabbing him by the wrist, tugging him towards the music that gets louder with each step. “Follow my lead,” you say simply, mind finally feeling fucking free, “I’ll give you a free lesson.”

He trails behind you with a silly smile until you enter the crowd of people, it was busy over here, you realized. The bar wasn’t too crowded, the other side of the building consisted of booths and tables for those who… didn’t want to have a good time, you guessed. Talking, catching up, the first awkward half of a date, maybe. 

You loved bars that had dance floors. Clubs, weddings, anywhere that there was a space dedicated to people letting loose, allowing their bodies to move as they pleased, to feel music in their blood. It was your favorite, even if you danced for a living, this was different– no choreography, no rules, there was nothing in your mind to keep you structured. You could let yourself feel, move the way your body allowed, you didn’t have to worry what anyone else thought. 

With liquor in your system, that freedom is amplified by a thousand. Dancing before Yunho, you quickly realize he lied about having two left feet, his smile is just as careless as yours as his body moves to the beat of the song, matching your rhythm perfectly. Hips swaying in tandem, arms flowing in the space around you, you’re giggling before you know it, a smile branded onto your cheeks. 

Until you turn your head and see that Wooyoung and San have joined you. 

San’s arms over Wooyoung’s shoulders, they danced close, hips touching, swaying together as one. They were smiling at you– or pretending to be, the first thing you noticed was how their grins didn’t reach their ears. An alarm bell sounds in your head, confused, concerned, you want to ask what’s wrong, your body stops moving as the thoughts pile in. 

Wooyoung, unaffected by your lack of movement, wiggles free from San’s grip. “Let’s switch!” He’s smiling, yelling over the music, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Your brows furrow as Wooyoung shimmies between you and Yunho, his arms gliding swiftly over Yunho’s shoulders shamelessly, dark hair glowing under the pink, neon light, shaking with each sway of his body. 

You turn your head to San who seems like he’s taking a moment to process, then he pulls you into him by your wrist, other hand landing on your hip, your back to his chest. You start moving out of instinct, hips swaying, but your brows stay furrowed. 

Turning your head halfway, you ask, “What’s going on?”

San presses his lips into your cheek, dimples out to play with the smile he gives you. This one seems more real, it eases the panic in your chest ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I–” Your head turns back to Wooyoung, who has his cheek pressed to Yunho’s, saying something into his ear. “Are you guys okay?”

“Of course,” San’s palms hug your hips, pulling you flush to him, the feeling of him behind you sends heat up your spine. Immediately you’re brought back to the other night, the sounds leaving his lips, the mental picture you came up with, your hand between your legs. With his voice dripped in honey, he asks, “Are you okay, Shygirl?”

You’re nodding, body sinking into him, heat pulsing through your core, up your spine. His body feels so strong behind you, muscular arms on your hips, rocking you so sensually it throws your head for a spin. This movement brings back memories, ones that haunt you, ones you miss so fucking much. 

You nod weakly, your voice a small squeak, “Yup, ‘m fine.”

He chuckles, cheeks pink, burying his head into your neck. You’re so close you could be considered one, it’s too close, it’s disrespectful, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Yunho is right in front of you, expecting a night with you, he knows how you feel about San, about Wooyoung, and here you are falling into a haze, repeating old mistakes. 

A third hand to one side of your waist, a fourth to the other. When you look up, Yunho is gone. Wooyoung stands before you with a cocky, lopsided smile on his lips, hips pressing into your front, falling into rhythm with you and San easily. He looks so pretty with pink cast onto his face, so bronzy even under neon light, his dark clothes sinking into the shadows.

“Where’s Yunho?” You ask, hands finding Wooyoung’s shoulders like it was instinct. 

He takes the opportunity to come closer, the three of you molding together, the smell of both of them in your nose, the strength of them boxing you in. It feels so fucking good, it feels wrong, you don’t want them to let go, you want to stay here, dancing with them all night. 

“Bathroom,” Wooyoung shrugs, thumbs caressing your sides. “Who cares?”

“Woo,” you whine, making a show of pouting, but it isn’t real. You don’t care. 

“What?” His grin spreads wider, voice light and playful like he was proving his innocence, “The only thing that matters is you and us, right here. Nothing else.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not that you ever do. There’s nothing left inside you to make a rebuttal, anyway, there’s so you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, spread your legs to allow one of theirs to slot through, and sway your hips like you were born to do it. Head falling back onto San’s shoulder, a lazy grin makes its way to your cheeks as you move with them, staring at Wooyoung over your nose, he looks at you like he’d do anything to drink you in. 

He’s always looked at you this way, but there was something different about the longing glint in his eye, how his tongue slowly swipes over his lips like he’s hungry. Maybe it was knowing your own feelings playing a part, if it was anyone else you’d think they wanted to fuck you, but it’s Wooyoung. You can feel San at your back, the dirty grind of his hips against your ass, it’s been so long since you’ve been with them like this– dancing, liquor involved, too close for comfort, questioning if your relationship was as platonic as you thought it was. 

Years. You haven’t touched San in years. You think back to Wooyoung asking if you missed it– you know you do, you miss it so fucking much, but was there a chance that Wooyoung wanted you to miss it? That he wanted to repeat history, this time with him involved, like all the times you’ve dreamt about? You almost groan, head tipping forward, heat spreading through your body at the thought of them wanting you like you want them. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Wooyoung asks, his voice low, loud enough for you to hear. His face is so close you could feel his breath on your face; minty, like he was drinking a mojito, or took a shot of Rumplemintz. His smile is feline, eyes knowing as if your skull was transparent, like he just wanted to hear the words from your lips. 

“I,” you take a breath, the admission sits on your tongue. “I’m not thinking.”

You can’t do it. To make yourself so vulnerable, so susceptible to rejection, you couldn’t do it. 

Wooyoung leans in, soft, warm cheek pressed to yours, lips ghosting your ear, “You’re lying.”

San is on your other side, keeping himself close, his nose dancing along the shell of your ear, making you shiver. He keeps his voice just as low, sounding like an aphrodisiac, “Tell us, baby, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”

Your heartbeat quickens, pressure below your skin, they’re too close, boxing you in, there’s a pit in your core like an itch you can’t fucking scratch and they’re dangling relief in front of your eyes, out of reach. Your jaw clenches, words fighting to push through, your fingers tangle into Wooyoung’s hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against skin– he hisses into your ear, fingers tightening around your waist like it’s all he could do to stop himself from pressing into you. 

“Fuck, Woo,” you mutter under your breath, marvelling at the sound, how it makes your stomach do a flip. The floor feels charged, tension spreading from your ankles to your spine, your words spill out before you can think twice about them, “did you like that?” 

You can feel electricity prickling your scalp at your own question, but he answers it with a quick-spreading smirk brushing over your ear, “Is it okay if I did?” Your eyes widen as he pulls away from you, keeping your faces so close your noses are almost touching. His eyes stay locked on yours and you can see the desperation changing the shape of his face. He asks again, “What if I asked you to do it again?” 

It’s so wrong. They’re together, they’re a couple, there’s no fucking room for you. But what if there’s a chance that there is?

Yet your fingers tighten in his hair, gripping at his roots harder than before and his head falls back, strong jaw on display, the curvature of his nose, jugular beckoning your lips forward. The music disappears as a tight sound leaves his lips, the rest of the bar fades away as his hips buck into yours, you’re left in awe, dumbfounded, the heat in your core unbearable. 

“He likes it a little rough,” San whispers into your ear, voice rough, edged with dominance. His teeth dragging over your earlobe, tongue following, “You’re gonna make him hard, baby.”

“S-shit,” you manage to get out, body twitching, sinking into San behind you whose hands slide under the hem of your top at your hips, palms hot and callused against your skin. Involuntarily your hips push forward, into Wooyoung, your mind so fuzzy and confused but you’re so fucking horny all you can ask is, “What are you doing?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wooyoung asks, voice playful again, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin, searing the trail he leaves behind. “You’re smart, use that big brain.”

“Kiss him,” San whispers in your ear, then plants a kiss right below it, using his tongue to seal the spot. You shiver, a whimper leaving your lips, brows tying together. You’re confused, you don’t have time to be, you don’t want to question it anymore.

You want to kiss him, you’ve never kissed Wooyoung once in your life. You’ve longed to know what he tastes like, how he uses his pretty lips, if his tongue can do all the things you’ve imagined it to. Your eyes drop down as he wets his lips again, so glossy and inviting, you bite your lip as his curve into another smile. 

“You want to,” San’s lips drop to your neck, talking against your skin, “I know you want to, don’t deprive yourself, baby.”

You do want to, it’s a dream, your biggest fantasy coming to life. Your hands slide from the nape of Wooyoung’s cheek to cradle his jaw, Wooyoung’s flared eyes give you the green light, you blink once, twice, ignoring everything in your mind that tells you no as you lean in and press your lips to his. His hands cup your cheeks immediately, lips moving with yours, exploratory and relieving all at once, his tongue slips into your mouth like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, no time to waste. San keeps his hands on your waist, groaning into your skin as he watches you, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing, sucking, licking over the marks he leaves behind. 

There’s a leg between yours, you think it’s Wooyoung’s, maybe San’s, but your hips grind against it with each lick of his tongue into your mouth. It feels like heaven, or worse, mind so dazed and confused and horny but so at peace with this being everything you’ve ever imagined and more, you can’t get enough. You kiss him faster, rougher, arms wrapping around his neck, tongue searching his mouth like you need to embed the taste of him into your bones, he tastes sweet. Minty like this breath, a bitter note of alcohol on his tongue, your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, sliding down to the hem of his shirt to tuck your hands beneath it. 

Oh, he’s warm, his body feels like it looks, harsh and unforgiving, delicious. Like he could throw you around if he wanted to, you hope he wants to, unless it’s San who does the throwing– San. 

San. 

You break away from Wooyoung with low lidded eyes and he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the fucking sky. Eyes glossy, lips swollen, you pull away and immediately he’s following, searching for more. 

You turn your head and San’s already waiting for it, palm splaying over your cheek to pull you into him hastily, lips molding against yours like nostalgia was a sentiment created by the two of you. Like coming home, his tongue slots between your lips, teeth clamping over your bottom lip, tugging on it, you whine into his mouth, back arching into his chest. You needed more. 

“Do you want us?” He asks into your mouth, breathless. You nod, and he clicks his tongue, “Words, Shy. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I’ve wanted it for so long,” you’re quick to admit, breathless yourself, voice raw, honest. “So, so fucking long, Sannie.”

Wooyoung grabs your face by your cheeks, stealing your attention, forcing you to face him so he can explore your mouth again, San breaking away from your back. You barely notice the loss of heat, melting into Wooyoung, chest pressed into his, hands in his hair, meeting his intentions with your own. He breaks away to peck you once,  out of breath, pupils dilated, “We’ve wanted you for even longer.”

Your breath stutters, weak in the knees, you can’t process his words, you’d put it on a checklist for later. Voice cracking, wrecked before you’d even begun, you muttered, “Let’s go home.”

You felt bad for the driver with the way you sat on San’s lap the whole drive home, switching between him and Wooyoung like you were trying to figure out who was the better kisser. Truth was, you just couldn’t get enough of them, San’s kiss was a part of your being, his touch was instilled in you, familiar to the point of not wanting to ever let go. Wooyoung was new, fresh, but an itch to a scratch, a relief you’ve ached for far too long, he was addicting, like you couldn’t stop if you tried. 

Sweetie is jumping at you when you walk through the threshold and the three of you bend down to pet him like you’ve never seen a dog before, like they weren’t just ready to strip you in the backseat of a minivan. Liquor still coursing through you, you’re all talking in high pitched voices, making his tail wag, he couldn’t choose which of you to give his attention to. After treats you’re in your room, tying your hair up, and naturally, the two men follow you. 

San makes himself at home on your bed, still in his jeans, jacket still thrown over his shoulders, he leans back on his elbows, eyeing you over the tip of his nose as you meander about your bedroom, maybe stalling, maybe thinking. Maybe you just made all of that up. Maybe you didn't even kiss in the club and you should be diagnosed with schizophrenia. 

“Shy.”

Wooyoung stands in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking. 

You look between them, jacket halfway off, heart picking up speed all over again, “What?” “Oh my god, I love you,” Wooyoung’s smiling as he unfolds his arms, crossing the room, meeting you at your back. He pulls the jacket from your shoulders carefully, pressing his lips to your temple, “We want you, baby.”

Your eyes find San’s on your bed, he sits in a cloud of arousal, still sporting the tent in his jeans. Wooyoung presses his lips to your neck, hands landing on your hips, sliding up your waist, over your chest, your breath catches in your throat, head tilting to let him explore, back leaning into his hold to let him do as he pleases.

“I know it’s been two years,” San stands from the bed, walking towards you in three long steps, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. He tugs your hips into him, arching you off of Wooyoung, making your breath catch. The grin that spreads across his cheeks is all arrogance, “But did you really think you weren’t getting fucked the moment we walked through the door?”

Your body ignites in a way you haven’t felt in years. You whisper, “I did, I– I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He presses his forehead against yours, voice soft like velvet, invading your space again with his fingers uncurling from your belt loops to play with the hem of your jeans, two fingers pinching the button of your fly. 

Wooyoung moves to your ear, biting the shell of it, not soft enough to hurt, but enough to make you suck in a harsh breath. He plays with your top, sliding it upward, knuckles cold against your skin, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You whine, sinking into Wooyoung, reaching for San’s shirt. You want them to fuck you, god, you want them both, you’ll take anything they give you. You can barely get out a small, broken, “Yes.”

Accomplishment is bright on San’s face as he unbuttons your jeans with ease, Wooyoung pulls away to flip your shirt over your head, the two moving in such quick motions you begin thinking they’ve been waiting for this, too. San helps you step out of your jeans before attaching your lips and it’s more than hungry, he’s starving with the way he tries to devour you, swallow you whole as he turns you both around, unclasping your bra as he walks you to your bed. 

You fall flat against your mattress with a squeak, feeling bare before them like this, standing above you like vultures. You’ve been here before with San, it feels like seeing an old friend again; but with Wooyoung, there’s a spark of unfamiliarity, it’s been years since you’ve opened up to someone new.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung groans, dark hair messy around his face, deepening the shadows of his structured face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Shy.”

You burn, heat spreading through you, knees closing, “You’ve seen me before, Woo.”

He catches your knees, spreading them as San kneels onto the bed beside you, watching Wooyoung as his eyes sink between your legs. “Not like this, do you even know how fucking wet you are?”

Your hips twitch with the way he holds you open, already searching for more. Wooyoung continues, eyes glossed over, stuck at your center like it was treasure, “Fuck, baby, you’re soakin’ through your panties.”

“For you,” you breathe out, “taste it.”

His eyes snap up to yours, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, amused. “Yeah? That what you want?” 

You nod, “Yes, Woo, wanna feel your mouth, wanted it for so long.”

His eyes slide to San’s with a smirk and the older man meets his stare with a short, cocky, “Told you.”

Wooyoung’s hands curl under your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed before he pulls your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor, “Didn’t tell me she was impatient.”

“I am,” you’re quick to admit, shameless and desperate, “I’ve been.”

He smiles again, lifting one leg and pressing his lips to your ankle, keeping his eyes on yours as he sinks down to his knees. Slow kisses up your calf, your inner thigh, his tongue leaves a trail, your breath hitches in your throat as he breaks away just to tug his shirt over his head by the collar. 

“Nostalgic, hm?” San mumbles, close to your ear, laying down with one elbow propped up to watch, “We’ve been in this position before.”

You gasp as Wooyoung’s teeth graze your other thigh, at the sensitive part on the inside, eyes flickering up to yours to see your reaction. Through gritted teeth, one arm reaching out for San, you whisper, “Mm, missed it.”

“He’s good with his mouth, y’know,” San leans in closer, pressing his lips to your cheek then your jaw as Wooyoung finally leans forward, his nose meeting your folds before his lips make contact. A strangled moan escapes you, hips immediately bucking into him, other hand flying between your legs to take root in his hair. 

As his tongue swipes through your folds your back arches, your moan exposing every feeling of relief, of how much you wanted this, needed this. His name drips off your tongue and he groans at the sound, “You sound so pretty, Shybaby.”

“Prettier when she’s louder,” you can feel San smirk into your skin, “you have no idea how shameless she can get. Suck on her clit, Woo.”

As his lips wrap around your clit your moan heightens in pitch, louder than before, fingers tugging harshly at his scalp as your hips buck into his mouth, “Holy shit, Wooyoung.”

He groans into you, fingers curling into your thighs, soothing over your clit with his tongue, “Taste so good, pussy so pretty, can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner.”

Your face grows hot as his tongue flattens over your folds, flicking at your clit with precision, no haste to his actions, he’s exploring you. Seeing what you like, what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes your stomach clench in pleasure. 

His nose glides over your clit and you buck into him again, his tongue circling your entrance, drinking up every ounce of your arousal. San’s fingers find your hair, “Mm, she liked that, Woo.”

“You like my nose?” His eyes flicker up to you and you nod shamelessly, humming your agreement. He repeats the movement and your back arches as he moves into a rhythm, tongue fucking into you while his nose glides over your clit, his movements timed perfectly with each jerk of your hips.  

“Wanna see you ride it,” San whispers into your ear and you gasp out, one hand curling into the sheets beneath you. “Next time.”

“Yes, fuck,” you mumble through gritted teeth, “want it, need it.” 

“Wanna watch you cum,” San’s fingers find your chest, the pads of them running over your hardened nipples, pinching at your sensitive skin. Louder now, your moans slurring together, your stomach curls in pleasure, pressure building in your hips. 

“Don’t stop, Woo,” you whisper, a broken sound, using your fingers in his hair to rock your hips against his face, “so good, just like that.”

He grunts in response, letting you use him, adding more pressure and you’re locking up around him, whimpering as San’s fingers pinch harder at your chest, it’s enough to pull you right to the edge.

“There you go,” San encourages, lips buried in your hair, “use him, let me see you cum against his face, make yourself cum for me, c’mon.” 

“Gonna–” there’s panic in your voice like you couldn’t believe you were reaching your peak so easily, but as his fingers tighten into your thighs harder, tongue lolled out for you to ride, the slight sting in your skin combined with the stimulation to your clit throws you over with a loud cry, pleasure washing over you in waves, body trembling beneath their touch, your skin on fire. 

“Yes, so good for us,” San whispers, voice coated in praise, “such a good girl, Shy. Missed watching you cum, wanna feel you do it around my cock.”

You whimper, eyes cresting open to see him above you, dimples showing as he speaks. Dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, cheeks pink, eyes soft and warm, gaze filled with so much love it makes you dizzy. Your hand lifts from Wooyoung’s hair to cradle San’s cheek, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongue slotting into his mouth softly as Wooyoung presses soft kisses to the tip of your mound, between your hipbones, up your stomach. 

Your back arches as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue swiping over them, soothing where San had pinched, it makes you whimper, one hand falling from San’s cheek to dig into Wooyoung’s hair again, softer this time. Nails grazing his scalp, ankles crossing over his back, everything felt slow, filled with purpose, like each one of their movements were solely for your pleasure. 

You needed more. You needed them to treat you like they’d treated each other a few nights ago, you needed the bed to hit the wall, to hear Wooyoung whimpering, San’s domineering voice. Your other hand finds San’s hair, gripping at the spiral of his crown, making him grunt into your mouth, “Shit.”

“Need more,” you’re panting into his mouth, “need you to fuck me, I need it.”

Wooyoung’s arms scoop under your back to pull you up as San leans back to groan, you meet his lips hastily, already seated on his thighs, your legs bracket his hips, your bare chest pressed to his. Denim below you, you curse at the feeling of texture, sturdy, rough fabric, “Get these off.”

“Impatient,” he smirks into your lips, “you needy? Desperate to fuck us?”

Skin alight with wildfire, your fingers find the hair at the back of his neck, tugging as you sit upward, following his face as you pull it backward by his hair, “Gonna make me say it again?”

A smile breaks out across his face, one full of excitement, “Holy shit, Shy–”

“Who are you talking to like that, huh?” San’s at your back, chest pressed to your shoulderblades, feeling so big it’s menacing, “You should be thanking him for letting you cum on his face.”

Staring down at Wooyoung, his grin had gone cocky again, one brow raising with your hands still rooted in his hair. Your fingers tighten again and his brows furrow in pleasure, a small moan croaking from his lips, it’s satisfactory enough. You mumble, “Thank you.”

San hums in contentment behind you, “Good girl.”

Wooyou watches in awe as San lifts you off his lap, turning you to face him with ease, standing on his knees he wraps a hand around your jaw, kissing you with more force than he had all night. Tongue pushing past your lips, teeth clashing, you melt beneath him, hands finding his bare pecs to hold onto as he devours your lips, your taste, your pleasure.

“You want me to treat you like a doll?” He asks into your mouth, voice harsh, edged like a blade. 

“Want you to treat me how you treat Woo,” you whimper, the admission falling from your lips without a second thought, until you feel him smirk. Hazy from a minute of his mouth on yours, the heat of shame couldn’t find you. 

“Knew you were listening,” Wooyoung is at your shoulders, hands on your waist, traveling to your front to grab two handfuls of your chest. “Fuckin’ pervert, listening to us fuck.”

Your back arches, fingertips digging into San’s skin, voice coming out tight, “Hard not to hear when the bed frame is hitting the wall.”

San stares at you like he’s debating fucking the cockiness out of you, “Almost forgot how much of a brat you can be.” Your grin is shameless, daring almost, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “Gonna look at me like that when I’m fucking you within an inch of your life?”

Your brows knit together, lips parting at his words, core clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whimper, hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him forward, “please.”

He doesn’t move, a stone wall before you. Instead he asks, “Did you touch yourself?” Left in the briefs glued to his lower half, your eyes sink to the outline of his length obvious in the polyester clinging to every inch of his skin. His face is lined by confidence, “Made that pretty pussy cum thinking about me fucking you, too?” 

Softly, you moan, “Yes.”

“Should have come in the room,” Wooyoung’s lips find your neck, pulling you back into him as his palms knead into your chest. ”Woulda made you cum so hard.”

You whine, sinking into his hot skin, chiseled abdomen searing your back. With your knees spread, your eyes are glossy as you stare up at San who grips his length over his briefs, mouth watering with his sculpted body on display, he’s changed so much over the years. This body is bigger, bulkier, stronger, he’s a completely different San than the one you knew back then. The things he could do to you now cross your mind, sinking straight down to the pit in your belly, your core clenching around nothing. 

“Wanna touch?” He asks, still sporting his cocky grin. You nod against Wooyoung’s chest, writhing beneath his palms, his touches only edging you further. He dips his chin down to his length, “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl forward on your palms until you’re standing on your knees before him, pressing your palms up to his shoulders, feeling the curves of his muscles before sliding down to his toned chest, palms laying flat, feeling his heartbeat beneath his skin. They slide down to his abdomen, so sculpted like he’s made of stone, your head tips forward, tongue lolling out of your mouth to glide across the dips and peaks, moaning at the taste of his skin, sweaty, salty, San. He pushes out a heavy breath as your head dips lower, fingers sinking into his waistband, tugging his briefs down. 

“Wanna taste,” you mutter mindlessly, mind whirling, craving his cock, missing it. It springs out of his briefs, slapping up between his hipbones, thick and red and leaking, your mouth waters. You blow cool air from your lips and he hisses, cock twitching, making you smile. Your eyes flicker upward, “Want my mouth?” 

His heavy brows are furrowed, hips tilted forward, his hands come forward to cup your cheeks. “Wanna fuck you, Shy.”

Your stomach fucking churns at the sound of his voice, whiny and desperate, you clench around nothing at the thought. You missed him so badly you ached for it, the feeling of him inside you, his cock so thick leaving you full enough it’s almost overwhelming to have him seated inside.

Before you have the chance to move you feel two heavy palms land on your hips, your head turns, back arching on command. Wooyoung knelt behind you, cock standing tall between his hipbones, the pretty pink tip leaking against his lower abdomen, so bronzy and veiny and strong. His eyes follow the trail of the base of your spine up to your eyes, “Let me have a turn first.” 

You whimper, arching lower, knees spreading to allow him entrance, whining out a breathy, “Yes.”

San holds your cheeks steady, “Can you take it?”

You’re on fire, hips pushing back against Wooyoung with impatience, mouth filling with saliva. “Yes, yes, I can take it, use me– Please?”

A guttural moan spills from the two of them, San rips his briefs off his ankles as he sits back on his calves, one arm behind him holding up his weight. You feel Wooyoung slide two fingers up your spine, rippling over each vertebrae and then back down again, the other hand hooked on your hip squeezing as he grinds his cock against your folds, slippery and wet, he lets out a tangled whine at the feeling. 

“You sure, Shy?” He asks, “Pussy’s begging to be fucked.”

“Need this,” you mumble, “need you, don’t hold back.”

“I won’t,” Wooyoung huffs, “don’t think I can, anyway.”

You turn to find San staring at you, his eyes so warm and inviting, lined with impatience he doesn’t dare verbalize. His jaw clenches as you lean down, tongue poking out to meet the leaking tip of his cock as Wooyoung lines himself up, letting his cock catch on your entrance with each slide up your folds. San’s other hand finds your hair as you lick up the underside of him, his head tipping backward as a moan tumbles out from his chest, abdomen already clenching at the pleasure. 

“Fuck, that mouth,” San hisses as you let a mouthful of saliva drip onto his cock, using one hand to spread it along his length before you take the tip in your mouth fully, his grip tightens in your roots. “Missed those pretty lips, baby.” 

You can’t answer, a strangled noise forcing itself out of you as the tip of Wooyoung’s cock prods your entrance. His hands find your hips, squeezing, “Breathe for me, baby.” His tone is absent, like he needed the reminder more than you did, laser-focused on how your entrance is already sucking him in.

You breathe through your nose, eyes screwing shut as he pushes in, filling you with his length inch by inch, slowly but steadily. A high whimper punches through your lips, mouth unwrapping from San’s cock to dip your head down, hips involuntarily pushing back onto Wooyoung, wanting to be full, fast. 

“Patience,” Wooyoung squeezes your hips harder, more confidence in his voice, “this tight lil’ thing needs to be stretched out, take it easy, baby. We’ll give you everything, I promise.”

You haven’t felt this full in years. Even sopping wet you could feel him carving into you, making space for himself where you haven’t been properly filled in so long– the pleasure was tantalizing, slight sting of the stretch mixing into a cocktail of euphoria, your eyes fluttered back into your head, hand tightening around the base of San’s cock.

“Breathe, Shygirl,” San encourages, “let him in.”

Your eyes open, flickering up to San who watches Wooyoung over your head, your body the bridge connecting the two men. The sight of him, flushed, chest patched with a rosy hue, your tongue slides out of your mouth to lick up the underside of him again, taking the tip of him into your mouth. 

His hips buck upward, surprised at your warmth wrapped around him, he pushes his cock deeper into your throat and you gag involuntarily, other hand tightening into the sheets below you. You breathe through it, your nose pushing out air as you take him deeper, head bobbing along his length as Wooyoung fully sheathes himself inside you. 

He waits there a moment, fingers gripping the plush of your ass, his voice utterly gone as he says, “She’s so fuckin’ tight, Sannie.”

San’s eyes flicker up to him, “Make her cum on your cock, wanna see.”

He pulls out all the way just to slam back inside and your throat constricts around San’s length, making you gag again, eyes watering, blurring your vision. Wooyoung whines, “Fuck, baby, holy shit, Sannie.”

Hearing him moan out San’s name while he fucks you etches stars into your vision. Your hips start pushing back, your hand leaving San’s length to take purchase in the sheets as your hips buck against Wooyoung’s length in the same rhythm that you bob your head along San’s cock. Both men moan, a pitiful sound, lewd and desperate, it makes you clench around Wooyoung, nose diving down to press into the tuft of hair at the base of San’s cock. 

“There you go,” San huffs, voice strangled, you look up to see him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “Fuck, so pretty, taking my cock so fucking well. Missed seeing you like this.”

You moan around him, core clenching and you can hear the whine caught in the back of Wooyoung’s throat, his fingers curling into the plush of your ass, squeezing so fucking hard it rips a tight noise from your chest, dying on San’s cock. 

“Don’t know how long I’ll last, fuck,” Wooyoung chokes out, hands sliding up to your hipbones.

San does his best to make his smile appear cocky, “When’s the last time you fucked, huh?” He gasps the moment the words leave his lips, as you swallow around his length, he curses under his breath, tightening a hand in your roots.

Wooyoung speaks through gritted teeth, “Too fucking long, shit, she’s suckin’ me in–”

“Can’t wait to feel,” San grunts, hips twitching into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper, “mouth just as dangerous, you’re a demon, Shy.”

You try to smile, he’s too wide in your mouth, in your throat, you settle for shooting him one with your eyes. You’re in rhythm now, head bobbing at the same pace as Wooyoung fucking into you, being so full, so manhandled by the two of them even if you were the one who put yourself here feels so good. Wooyoung’s cock is thinner than San’s, longer, you can feel how it curves along the front side of your walls, hitting every single spot you need it to. 

It makes your knees wobble, your fingers twisting in the sheets, it feels too fucking good. It’s been a long while since you’ve breached an orgasm around someone’s cock, it’s muscle memory the way your arch comes back to you, the rhythm in which you fuck against him to get yourself off, the pressure building so different from when you do it yourself. 

Wooyoung notices, landing a sharp smack to your ass, “Usin’ me? I can feel you fucking back.”

You pop off of San’s length to turn your head halfway, “Y’feel so good, Woo, can’t help it.”

His brows tie together, jaw falling slack, “Fuck, don’t stop, baby, don’t stop–”

“Inside, kay?” Between a moan and a whimper, “Don’t pull out.”

His palms push into the plush of your ass again as you take San’s cock into your mouth, stretching your lips wide to take him, using the slick you’d left behind to glide your tongue all the way down, choking yourself on him, bobbing your head in rhythm again. 

“Shy,” there’s nerves in San’s voice, “baby– fuck, Shy– gonna cum–”

Wooyoung’s hips stutter, he curses under his breath, one of his hands slides around to your front, between your legs, “Can’t– need you to cum first, baby, please.”

Two fingers to the bundle of nerves between your legs, your hips jerk, back arching impossibly deeper, a gargled moan vibrates San’s cock and he curses low, hands in your hair pulling, it’s overstimulating, how much is happening all at once. 

Wooyoung’s fingers take all but three tight circles at your clit to send you freefalling over the edge, pressure blowing, pleasure spreading through your body like fireworks reaching each limb, every nerve ending. San tugs you off his cock by your hair, one hand fisting the base of him to stop his orgasm from hitting, and Wooyoung cries out as he barrels into you, hips finally stilling when he’s fully sheathed, filling you with warmth. 

You’re gaping, staring at San wide-eyed, “Why?”

It takes a moment for you to process the warmth. Like sitting before a fire, it’s comforting, head dropping to let it sink in– nostalgic, you missed this. 

“Wanna cum inside you,” he answers simply, “c’mere.”

Manhandling you all over again, he pulls you onto his lap, you can’t help but reach for Wooyoung behind you. San wastes no time, ignoring your heaving chest, the exhaustion in your eyes you’re hiding with adrenaline, with one hand on your hips he lines you up over his cock, easing you down onto his length, you hiss at the stretch, at the width of him. 

“Big stretch,” his grin is taunting, “you can do it, baby, easy.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, arms stretching behind you, “Woo.” Searching for the man who just came inside you, he’s at your back, broad and steady, arms wrapping around you. 

“I’m here,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, moving your hair away from your sticky neck to press his lips into you, and it’s the comfort you needed to start grinding your hips into San’s cock, moans spilling from your lips, small gasps and whines as he fills you up perfectly, walls molding to the shape of him like he’d never left.

“Fuck, Sannie,” you murmur, “‘s too much, missed your cock, but it’s too much.”

“You can do it,” he leans into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, he searches for your lips. You pick your head up to meet him, pressing your lips to his, tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting every inch you can find. He grins into your lips, “Look at you, taking it like you did all those years ago. Still my fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?”

You gasp, hips twitching against him, clenching hard, and he curses under his breath like he wasn’t just taunting you. Lips still ghosting yours, he whispers, “Still like my mouth? All that nasty shit?” 

You nod, nipples brushing against his chest with every bounce of your hips, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. All you can manage is, “More.”

“I know, baby,” his hips jerk up and you cry out, arching into Wooyoung behind you who reaches around your front, fingers pinching at your nipples, teeth at your ear. San, voice wrecked, grunts as he says, “Still need a little pain with the pleasure to get you off, huh?”

You can’t answer, eyelids fluttering, hazy at the feeling of Wooyoung’s release spilling out of you onto San’s thighs, the squelching sound of it coating his cock, making it easy for you to bounce yourself against him like a bitch in heat. 

Wooyoung chuckles into your ear, low and velvety, it sends a shiver up your spine. “Never woulda guessed that from you, baby.”

It makes a lazy grin break out across your cheeks, head turning to kiss him, all teeth and tongue, messy and delicious. “Really?” 

“My Shygirl,” his voice is filled with affection, lips pressed to the side of your head, parted and spilling spit onto your temple, your cheeks, it feels dirty– so fucking sexy you can’t control the way you hump San’s cock, slurring mindless babbles and strained noises you can barely comprehend. 

“Our Shygirl,” San corrects him, eyeing Wooyoung over your shoulder, a severity to his tone that makes your eyes flick upward in question. 

His brows tied with pleasure, sweat dripping down his brow, dark hair messy and tangled on his head, he looks like a fucking dream. He is a dream, this is a dream, harmonious with the two as if you’ve done this a thousand times, like it was always supposed to be this way, he can read the question on your tongue. He cups your cheek with a hand, sliding it to the back of your head to take root in your hair, tugging you towards him close enough for your lips to touch, “It’s different this time.”

You try to kiss him with your slacked jaw but it’s a trading of spit more than it is a kiss, “Different.”

“Mine,” he growls, a hand wrapping around your back, fingers digging into your skin, his words too coherent to be born of the heat of the moment. “Wanted this for too long, both of you, you’re both mine.”

“Yours,” you repeat, confirm with an airy head, echoed by Wooyoung as your hips stutter against San’s cock, head tipped against the younger man’s shoulder, “f-fuck me.”

“Sit,” it’s an order from San to Wooyoung that’s answered on command, he sits on his calves before uncurling his legs from below him, cock half-hard laying stiff between his hips. 

San maneuvers you with two hands on your waist, you gasp as he tugs you off his cock effortlessly, laying you back on Wooyoung’s chest like it took no fucking strength at all. Strong arms wrap around you as your skin meets his, tilting your head to the side to see him, to kiss him, he smiles as he sees you, teeth on display. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wooyoung looks at you the same way he always does, stars in his eyes, like he couldn’t smile without his whole face if he tried, like the look was solely for you. “You’re mine too, y’know.”

You reach up with one arm to pull his head down to yours, the kiss softer than those you’ve shared tonight, more controlled like you needed a moment to let his words sink in, your mind too fuzzy to process the weight of what that meant. 

San’s fingers hook under your knees, pushing them backward until they leave you spread, lining himself up all over again, pushing inside in one quick motion. 

A different feeling of full, Wooyoung holds your face against his as you whisper a cry into his mouth, your lips still touching as he grins, “Been waiting for this too, haven’t you? You wanna be ours?” 

Body going limp in his hold, hand falling from his cheek mindlessly, your body feels like fucking jelly. You nod, breath quickening, short and tight at the feeling of San fucking into you, “Need to be, waited so long.” 

San’s grip tightens under your knees, picking up speed, your head turns to see him and god you want to take a picture, want to frame it and hang it on the wall; brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes focused on your meeting below, his abdomen flexing as he rolls his hips into you, it makes your toes curl where they hang in the air. 

Face scrunching up, you reach for him, pulling him down to you, “Need t’kiss you.”

Messy, sloppy, wet, you can feel him in your stomach as your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. With the last peck to your lips he presses his forehead against yours, “I missed you, I love you— taking me s’fucking perfectly, like you always do—”

A strangled noise fights to leave your chest, heavy where it sits trapped, the words forcing the warmth in the pit of your belly to bloom, explode, shattering every wall you’d built up in the past few weeks. 

“I love you,” it’s a broken whisper, an admission you can’t keep inside any longer. A little louder, a little firmer, “I love you.” 

He smiles into the kiss he plants on your lips, “Yeah?” 

“Hey,” Wooyoung interjects, hands cupping your cheeks to tilt you backward, “I love you, too.” 

You’d smile if San didn’t pick up speed all over again, instead you’re babbling a mess of I love you, I love you too into Wooyoung’s mouth, lips barely touching enough to call it a kiss, so mindless and breathless and overwhelmed all you can do is feel. 

Wooyoung’s hand leaves your cheek to sink between yours and San’s bodies, two fingers pressed to your clit, swirling tight circles on the bundles of nerves. Your body fights to jerk between them, trapped between sweat and muscle, head lolling backward on Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. 

San switches his angle, strong arms tilting your hips upward to fuck into you harder, to angle his cock to hit the sweet spot inside you, building the pit of pressure of your stomach with purpose. 

Your eyes blow wide, breath quickening, “San— Sannie—”

“C’mon,” he encourages, sitting backward to fuck into you faster, “Lemme feel it, want it.” 

Incoherent babbles and the clenching of your cunt has your hands reaching for his forearms, fingernails pressing into his skin, all while Wooyoung keeps his pace on your clit, rhythm perfect, pressure nothing short of unbearable. 

“Woo— Sannie—” you don’t know who to cry for, hips fighting to meet San’s thrusts, grinding into Wooyoung’s fingers, “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Let go, baby,” Wooyoung’s voice is light and encouraging but he’s babbling as if San was fucking him, “let him feel it, he wants it so bad, he loves it, loves you.” 

Breath caught in your chest, your jaw drops as your pleasure hits its peak, meeting San’s gaze as your orgasm washes over you like a fucking hurricane, utterly speechless as your legs shake in the open air, inescapable euphoria reaching every inch of skin. 

“Fuck, Shy,” San groans, “you’re so fucking sexy, oh my god, oh my god—”

You don’t have time to respond before Wooyoung is kissing you again, tilting your head backward with one hand as San extends your orgasm with every thrust of his cock, Wooyoung’s fingers slowing on your clit, letting you ride it out until you’re a whining, twitching mess. 

“Fuck,” you mutter harshly, letting Wooyoung guide the sloppy kiss as San’s hips stutter, rhythm quickening to something ruthless, chasing his own high, a selfish pace. 

“Gonna fill this pussy up,” San’s babbling, “all mine, mine to fill,” his voice is somewhere far, deep in the moment, “I love it, love you, my Shygirl, shit—”

Erratic thrusts come to a hilt, stalling fully seated, you moan softly into Wooyoung’s mouth as heavy warmth fills you steadily, making you shiver. 

You break away from Wooyoung to look at San, eyelids low but you couldn’t miss the way his skin glows, as if you poured water over a sculpture made of gold, you stare in awe at his heaving chest, how his abdomen still clenches, flexing each muscle. 

“Pretty,” the word is mindless, said through a breath. 

He leans down, pressing his palms to the bed on either side of you, attaching your lips in a slow, steady kiss. “That’s you,” he whispers, “my pretty girl.” 

He picks his head up to Wooyoung behind you, pressing a kiss to his lips, too. “My pretty boy.” 

Wooyoung holds him close, you feel him melt under San’s touch, his words. “I love you,” Wooyoung mumbles, half-heard to you because he says it into San’s mouth, “so much.” 

“I love you too, baby,” San presses one more kiss to his lips before he plants one on your forehead, “and I love you, too.” 

“Do you really?” The question is pure instinct, “Like, actually?” 

“Baby,” he says it like it’s obvious, like it’s silly for you to even question it. “I’ve spent my whole life loving you.” 

There's a heaviness to your chest, the same tightness you felt when he said it earlier, it travels to your throat, the heat under your eyes pushing water into your lash line. 

“No,” he says softly, “don’t cry.”

You can’t help your smile, sniffling, giggling as two tears spill down your cheeks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Hold on,” his voice is still delicate, like glass, he sits back on his knees to carefully slip out of you, “come up here.” 

You move with Wooyoung, the younger man half carrying you to the top of the bed, your heads falling into your pillows, their bodies on either side of you in your queen-sized bed like it was big enough to fit all three of you. 

Your back is halfway pressed up against San, eyes hazy and low with Wooyoung in view, you ask him, “And you?” 

His smile is soft but his face reads relief like he’s been sitting on this information for ages. “I’ve loved you probably since I moved in, but I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

“That I knew,” you sniff, giggling again, turning your head up to see San who’s staring at you like you’re his entire world, “why didn’t you guys tell me?” 

“It’s not an easy thing to say,” there’s a small, apologetic smile on his lips. 

Wooyoung adds, “When we started living together I just assumed we were friend-zoned forever. When San and I got together, like, half of our relationship was based on the fact that we both still loved you while loving each other.” 

San’s arm wraps around your front, tucking you further into him, “When you’re best friends and roommates and a little too close for comfort, it’s hard to not fall in love.” 

“Especially when all of those things are you,” Wooyoung adds, shuffling towards you like he couldn’t get close enough, “why didn’t you tell us how you felt?”

“Because you started fucking dating each other,” you answer like you’ve been waiting for the question, amusement overshadowing the truth to your words, “I didn’t think I was invited to the party.” 

Wooyoung leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, he looks at you when he pulls away, so much love and honesty swirling in chocolate it makes you shiver, but because he’s Wooyoung, he starts singing, “I only threw this party for you, only threw this party for you, for you for you…”

You snort, giggling into San’s chest, and the older man continues, loud and proud, “You could watch me pull up on your body like it’s summer take my clothes off in the water—”

You join him, just as loud and maybe even prouder, “—splash around and get you blessed like holy water, I don’t know what you’ve been waitin’ for, you know that I’ve been waitin’ for you.” 

Wooyoung laughs, turning on his back, you watch how his chest expands and falls with each loud, obnoxious cackle. He turns his head to face you, “If you think about it, that song is kinda us.” 

“I think that song is Jay Gatsby,” you correct him, “I’m kinda Jay Gatsby and you guys are kinda Daisy Buchanan.” 

“No, we’re Jay Gatsby and you’re Daisy Buchanan,” San says a little more confidently than you did, “we threw the party and you didn't come.” 

“Oh we are not arguing about this,” you turn your head to furrow your brows at him, reiterating, “but let the records show that I was not invited to said party.” 

Wooyoung is quick with his answer, “We only threw the damn party for you.” 

It’s like nothing has changed. 

Curled up on the chaise of the couch, you in the corner, Wooyoung’s head on your lap with his leg stretched one way, San’s head is between your legs with both of your bodies laid out the other way. 

Dirty Dancing is playing on the flatscreen across the room, Sweetie cozy right beneath you, on the hardwood floor with his body pressed up against the deck of the couch, everything, everyone you love is in one room. 

A month of being together, the only thing that’s changed in your relationship is where you sleep, and that you kiss— and fuck, entirely too much for a typical honeymoon phase, but as San says, you’re making up for lost time.

Waking up together, going to work together, sleeping together, you wonder after years of being attached at the hip how you don’t feel tired of them. You suppose you never could, the two men being fibers of your being, embedded into you like the essence of your own being, it’s more that you can’t live without them. 

And the more you think about it, the more you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. So hyper focused on what you want, you couldn’t realize what you already had, there was a reason your relationship has always been too close for comfort. 

But now you have them, and you love them, and they fucking love you— they are not afraid to show it, they’d scream it to the rooftops if you let them. Sometimes you almost do let them, just to let the feeling sink in a little further, to let their love overflow the gap in your chest that’s been full for a month now. 

One hand in San’s hair, the other drawing shapes into Wooyoung’s chest, a thought dawns on you. You ask, “Hey, remember that night at Steer?” Their heads tilt toward, eyeing you over their eyebrows, nodding. “Whatever happened to Yunho?” 

Wooyoung snorts, San shakes his head, it makes you giggle. Wooyoung answers, “I told him his work was done and that we could take it from there.” 

“His work was done?” You question, “What work?”

“You told him you love us the night you went on the date with him, right?” San suddenly asks, looking over his forehead at you once more. You nod like this was common information and he laughs so loud it makes Sweetie sit up on his hind legs. 

“I told you, you called me schizophrenic!” San shouts over the couch at Wooyoung, sitting up on an elbow, “I knew it, my Shy senses were tingling.” 

“Shy senses?” You ask, a question ignored. 

Wooyoung sits up too, eyes wide, “Wha—? Maybe you should be a detective, Sannie, I’m serious.” 

“What are you talking about?” You ask a little louder, “Inform me right this second, please.” 

“I know you so well it’s scary,” San lays back down, one hand lazily thrown over the side of the couch to scratch Sweetie’s head, calming him. “Like the back of my hand, baby.” 

His words make you smile, settling back into the couch again. Wooyoung turns on his elbow to see you, “San knew that Yunho knew,” he shakes his head, “with literally no proof, just vibes. Scary.” 

You run your hands through his hair, your smile completely teasing, “You’ll get there, baby. One more decade.” 

Wooyoung’s top lip curls, “Not you, too. I know you just as well, if not better than San—”

San’s head picks up with a gasp, “You do not—!”

Your giggles cut through their bickering, “You’re both stupid, I love you.” 

“We love you too,” they mumble, settling back into their positions on the couch, where your hands fell to their hair, scratching their scalps into silence. Your smile stays as your head lifts back to the movie across the room, not actually watching, too consumed with contentment and that lovesick feeling in your stomach. 

Yours. Finally. 

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“Just like that, yes”, the director called out, flashes and clicks of cameras everywhere around you. “A little bit closer to his - oh my god - so good, yes” The photographer was just shooting shots mindlessly, as he heard the director call out instructions, his voice authoritative and bouncing off every wall in the big space.

Wooyoung was watching you from behind the scenes like usual. Phone dangling from his hand as he scrolled on social media, not particularly paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend on set.

“Okay, now, maybe just seductively pull her panties out and let it snap back”, he called out again, and San did just that. “Amazing, do it a few times again.” He hummed appreciative noises in the back of his throat, eyes shining as he took in your tempting poses.

“Do we have the video cam on? I feel like this would work well on that,” he called out to no one in particular again. Staff came with video cameras now, swarming the scene you and San were creating. “But what would I even do without two such good models?”

The bright lights of the set were melting the minimal makeup you had on, making your face feel sticky and uncomfortable. How could you even feel comfortable? This was hell on earth. the constant clicking of cameras around you, letting them photograph you in underwear, not saving a piece of you that won't be on the internet. But at least it paid well.

The director could've been more subtle in checking you out, especially in front of the guys. If Woo were paying attention, he would've already killed him with his gaze - and San, too, for his hand placement, even though its purely professional.

The frown was begging to break through the masked emotion on your face. Something about this set was way more intimidating and alluring than your normal; maybe it was the sweat running down your side where San has been touching you. The knowledge of other people being in the room while he was doing it so sensually - especially in your boyfriend's presence. Not like he would ever share…

—

Turns out he would.

"You've been practically begging to get our hands on you, doll," Wooyoung whispered in your ear while San worked on your bra's clasp, freeing your tits to the cold changing room's air, making your nipples perk instantly. "You think he didn't smell your arousal from right next to you?" he bit your collarbone, hard, pulling a raw moan from your chest. You felt him smile against your chest before he looked deep in your eyes, "Hell, be grateful if the director didn't get a whiff of it," a chuckle rumbled deep from his ribs.

San's palms danced along your sides, caressing your silky skin, just to wrap them around you and get the branded bra off you. As soon as it left your body, his hands fondled your breasts, moans escaping your mouth at his mere touch.

While that happened, Wooyoung peeled your wet panties back, pulling them to the side to slide a finger through your folds, dipping them knuckle deep into you, only to pull them away just as fast as they came. Everything was happening so fast, the sensations of San's fingers rolling your nipples, Wooyoung sinking to his knees in front of you - it was way too fast, catching you off guard.

But there was no time to stand there and stare at your boyfriend, trying to figure out his intentions, because San got a hold of your chin, forcing you to turn your face to him as he kissed you deeply. His kiss was different from what you were used to. Wooyoung kissed slowly, biting your lips teasingly, and pulling back here and there to put his forehead against yours and smile at you.

San was all teeth and tongue, harshly reminding you of the fact that it wasn't your boyfriend. He kissed with haste, yet deliberately, and unapologetically, almost as if he was trying to say, "turn off your thoughts."

The kiss broke when you pulled away from him, at the feeling of Wooyoung's tongue touching your clit, making your hands grab a handful of his blonde hair, tugging on it like a lifeline. One of San's hands stayed on your chin; it was soft, but demanding. The other joined yours on the blonde's head, guiding his face on your cunt, where he was rougher with his touch.

"Let him make you feel good, huh, princess?" he whispered, lips touching your earlobe, gently nipping at the skin. "You worked so hard today, looking pretty in front of a camera isn't something anyone could do," his chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled mockingly, and pushed his hardness into your ass. "Mmh, and you do it well too, huh?" he tsked, sarcastically puckering his lips, his eyebrows furrowing.

Wooyoung pushed one of your legs into San's hand, opening you up to his mouth for better access, so now he could lick his way from your hole to your clit, drawing a deep moan out of you. "fuuck… Woo, baby, that's so good," you stretched the syllables, throwing your head back onto the other man's shoulder. He moaned into you, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, arching it against San, whose breath hitched at your ass pushing back into him.

His tongue worked hard on you, switching between licking deep and sensual strokes and slow little nips on your clit. He was looking at you and San from under his lashes, a wicked glint shining in his eyes at both of your heated gazes. He pulled away from your cunt, stopping the stimulation fully. But he didn't bother to stand up before spitting on your mound, letting it run down between your folds.

He looked proud of his work, head tilted playfully, looking deep into your eyes as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, but never really kissing you as you thought he would do so. Instead, his hand left your face, wrapped around the other man's neck, and he kissed him intensely, both of them moaning in the moment of the first touch.

They exchanged your taste in their mouths along with spit, and San's hands wrapped around your hips to easily let him rut his hips into your ass. Wooyoung didn't break from his lips, but let a hand fall from the taller man's neck to dip his fingers back between your folds, stimulating you while they kissed. Little did he know them kissing might've made you more aroused than all of the things they've done to you before.

It was a sight that's for sure, the two most prominent figures in your life - your boyfriend and his best friend - two very attractive people kissing right next to you while they both touched you, whose skin hadn't left yours. Something you will never tell them, but it's been a deep fantasy of yours.

Watching San wander around your and Wooyoung's house like he was at home, sweatpants low on his hips without a shirt on, getting casted to the same photoshoots with Calvin's, Diesel's and Skims' underwear line, letting him touch your body intimately, but just for the sake of pictures, and only professionally because the heat of his gaze always left his eyes when the cameras turned off. He never made a move before today, never let his hands wander on your body, finally letting him get a taste of you.

Your walls tightened around his fingers as he massaged that spongy spot in you. The moan it drew out of you, made them break their kiss and turn their attention back to you. Hungry gazes settle back on your writhing body, which was still held by San, and your hole scissorred open by Wooyoung.

Wooyung's face had a wide smirk on it. He stretched his neck to the side, tilting his head in the process, and fastening the pace of his fingers at the same time. Your moan was ragged, high, hands flying to San's hands on you for a better hold, nails already pushing crescent moons into his tan skin.

"You're taking it so well, m'love." his tone was honey sweet, overly sweet, and that's how you knew he could withdraw the pleasure from you any second now, but first, he would let that knot tighten in your lower abdomen, playing you dirty.

Your whines got closer together, and higher in pitch, and that's when he knew to pull his fingers out of you, robbing you of the feeling of euphoria. "Such a good girl, taking whatever is given to her," San whispered in your ear, his hand wandering for your hip to join Wooyoung's between your legs.

"Sannie," your boyfriend thought out loud, "She's so wet," his lips curled, "She would let you do anything, right baby?" Uncoherent moans and whines came from your mouth, and both men chuckled at your desperation. "So worked up, ready to take cock, hm?" he questioned, as he felt San's fingers start rubbing your clit, in soft circular motions, making your hips chase the stimulation. "Maybe you even want to take two today…" That wonder got both men groaning.

Both of their hands left the place you needed them to touch the most, backing you up against the table in the break room, turning you around and folding you over it in one motion. "Please…" your voice was weak, whiny, ready to voice anything to get one of them inside you.

"What do you need, love?" San asked from behind you, gently pulling your panties down your legs, letting them fall where they may.

"You," a breathy moan left you as his hips ruttend into you. Your wetness unmistakably staining the cotton of his briefs, making his eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of it on his sensitive mushroom tip. Wooyoung settled next to you, resting against the edge of the table, his hand smoothing down your hair, with a lopsided smile on his face.

San, behind you, was pushing his shorts down with a quick movement, pushing his head through your folds with ragged movements, pulling moans out of both your mouths. His head lolled back with the contact, savouring your wetness on him. He was teasing at first, not pushing into you quite yet, but thrust his length forward, letting it glide between your folds all the way to your clit.

His cock felt girthier than your boyfriend's, but sensations were quick to overtake your senses already, eyes closing gradually with each slide of his dick, and mouth opening wider and wider until your chin pushed against the hard surface of the table.

Wooyoung tried to look at both of you, San's pleasure-ridden expression and your falling apart one. His hand travelling to palm his own cock through the rough denim of his pants, trying to relieve his painful arousal.

"Stop teasing her, Sannie, don't be so cruel." Wooyoung chuckled over your whines' rising volume, "let her have it, she was so good…" freeing his own cock as he spoke, extending his hand in front of your head, "Spit in my hand, love."

As your saliva hit his hand, San thrust into you with one quick motion, pushing all air out of your lungs, with a breathy moan, oh, and was he girthier than Wooyoung. "Fuck..." his head was still hanging towards the ceiling, praying to every God not to come as soon as he hits your cervix.

His pace was brutal, punishing even though all you've been is pliant and good in their hands. The table's creaking, wet slaps, and breathy moans bounced off the four walls, making the atmosphere so much more intimate and close.

"You're so tight around me," San grunted from behind you, walls pulsating with every snap of his hips, so devoted to chasing his pleasure, dying to paint your insides, "made for us, right?"

A chuckle escapes from the man next to you, his hand matching the pace San's hips have in you, "such a wonder why we never done this before…" The pleasure was overtaking your senses, eyes rolling back into your head, that specific tightness in your lower stomach becoming more prominent with each time his head pushed against your pulsing spot.

The orgasm had you seeing stars, with the previous teasings, coming hard around his cock with a loud moan, only to Wooyoung slide three fingers into your open mouth, "Baby, you have to be quieter, some staff are still outside," he murmured as he leaned against your ear, his breath hot on your cheeks. "We can't exactly let them know two men are ruining you, can we now?"

You shook your head as best as you could with his fingers stuffing your mouth, trying to escape San's iron-hold on your thighs from the overstimulation. Still, he didn't seem like he was about to stop any time soon, pushing you into another orgasm so quickly after the first. "n-no.. stop, ah- Sannie," body burning in a way it rarely did, muffled moans and words escaping around the fingers in your mouth.

"Can I come inside her?" he tried, calmly talking over your ragged moans, his cock pulsing inside you. Wooyoung couldn't even let a word out before the other man's release painted your insides, mixing with your own, but his cock was still half hard inside you, still pushing his load deeper.

Wooyoung's hands were tugging your head up so his lips could connect with yours in a kiss, letting your body relax in his hold. His hand never stopped on his own cock, it only slowed down its pace, dragging it out as slow and measured as he could. He was moaning inside your mouth, tongue mapping out every part of you.

San slowly slid out of you, as he watched your boyfriend kiss you, a moan escaping both of your mouths, making Wooyoung pull away from you, resting his forehead against yours, "You think you could take both of us, doll?" his thumb played with your lower lip, gently pulling it down and letting it snap back, as a smile played on his lips.

You felt San's gaze on your bare back, even dropping back down to your cunt, where your mixed juices flowed out of you, wetting the inside of your thighs artfully.

You nodded against Wooyoung's head, gulping a bit of spit down your throat, even though your mouth felt so dry. You never took two at the same time before, especially not someone their size. Wooyoung liked to play around in bed with you, sometimes putting his fingers inside you with his cock, stimulating both of you further, stretching you beyond limits.

Maybe he had always been prepping you for this, to take him and his pretty best friend in you at the same time. Let them rub against each other inside your pulsing walls, making you come around them, pushing them over the edge with only a few thrusts.

His hands settled on your waist, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before guiding you to the couch. He looked at San with a wicked glint in his eyes, before kicking his jeans down, while you tugged the shirt over his head. Then he settled on the couch, hands instantly going back to your hips, tugging you down with him.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and take both of us, baby?" you could only nod at his question, feeling both his tip prodding at your entrance, and San came closer to the couch behind you, stroking his already hardening dick. "I can feel San's come in you," he grunted, looking down where you were about to be connected, before throwing his head back with a groan.

You pushed him down, with a soft shove from your hands, reaching down to line his length up with your entrane before sitting down on it, "better push it right back then." All three of you moaned as you sat down on him, his cock easily gliding through your walls with San's release. If he could also slide in this easily.

Wooyoung's hands found their place on your waist, pulling you up from him, as the couch dipped behind you, and another hand joined your boyfriend's below your ribs. "Are you still sure about this princess?" his voice was husky and low, making the hairs stand on the back of your neck.

"Yes, please, Sannie, put it inside-" you whined breathily, brows furrowing together, just like when you first came, but this time in frustration. Wooyoung was already inside you, but held you so still that no stimulation came from it, and San was just lining up with your entrance, moving so calmly like you had all day. "Please, just put it in, I can't take it any-"

The words died in your mouth as he started pushing in, a hiss came from both men's mouths, eyes closing in the overwhelming pleasure. San was slow with it, not as mean as he was before with his hips, letting all of you get used to the new sensation.

When he bottomed out, a guttural moan came from them, their tips rubbed against each other, almost already making it too much, and you were already done for. As soon as he started pushing into your walls, they were pulsing around them, the stretch so good, making you feel so full.

"Oh my-" Wooyoung moaned under you, his breath hitching when San started moving, his hands holding onto your waist - and Wooyoung's hand, grabbing at it hard, grounding himself. He had never been with a woman and felt the immediate need to come, and you've done that to him twice already today, but this was different from the earlier stimulation. Your insides were stretched around them, making it tighter, warmer, and so much more intense to feel.

There was something so intimate about this; other than the actual intrusion of both of them in you, their praises hit your ears, but never actually made it to the point where you could comprehend it over the overwhelming sensations.

They started moving in tandem, Wooyoung's hips working up into you while San did the same from behind you, splitting you way beyond your limits. You were a moaning mess, no actual thought behind your eyes, and Wooyoung clearly saw when his chuckle hit your ears, "already fucked dumb princess?"

His words went over your ears, you folded over him, both men working hard so you don't actually fall from the couch. "Such a pretty sight-fuck," San moaned, looking where you were connected, hypnotised by the way you took their lengths.

It didn't need too many thrusts from them to have you shaking in their hold, thighs begging to let your weight fall against the man under you, but they held you up, fucking you through your orgasm while whispering sweet little nothings to you.

The sight of your eyes rolling back into your head, and the endless moans reverberating off the walls, got Wooyoung closer than he would've liked, "'nna fuck you full of our come, baby," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster up into you, making San even more vocal than he was before. "make you pregnant with one of our's baby alright?"

His hand came down on your belly, caressing the silky skin there, right over the bump their cocks caused, and he pushed down there softly, his own moan escaping from his mouth, "Feel this, baby?" You nodded at him, head rolling back against San's shoulders, thighs burning as you bounced on them, helping their movements.

It took one perfect trust from San against your spot for you to come again, tightening even more around them, as liquid spills down your thighs, soaking your man's abdomen, and San's thighs, "Fuck, princess-" one of them moans, following you close with their high. Your thighs shaking from the overwhelming feeling, tears running down your cheeks, messing up whatever makeup you still had on.

The other follows with their orgasm too, twitching and pulsing deep inside you, as you collapse against Wooyoung's chest. His hands instantly wrap around you, pulling you closer, but making you all whine as the movement makes San slip a little bit out of you, but he doesn't stretch the euphoria long.

He pulls out of you, crashing against the side of Woo, his head resting against the shorter one's chest, with a content sigh. "How come we've never done this before?" your voice muffled against Wooyoung's skin.

Both men chuckle at your question, but don't actually have answers for you. They are good in the comfortable silence that has settled over the room, letting all of you rest after an exhausting day. But then the realisation comes over you, you're still in the changing room at a studio, both sets that were on you and San ruined, with bodily fluids you are sure the brand won't ask for back, but there is still a bigger question at stake, "How the fuck do we get out of here without getting it to everyone's knowledge what happened in here?"

taglist (open): @belongjoong @kisssan @strhwa @thatateezgirl @karlee10261990 @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonandroses @redemptions

your head falls back, laughter bubbling up again, not realizing the tension between them. “nooo,” whining with your fingers slipping into wooyoung’s hair to play with it. “i think about you too... both of you like… always.”

then you’re kissing him, sloppy and eagerly, your chuckles breaking against his mouth as he swallows the sound. tongue pushes past your lips, greedy and oh so needy, as his hand slides under your skimpy shorts to press firmly against your heat. san shifts closer, unable to look away, the smoke making everything hazy. his hand lingers against your bare thigh, hesitant but aching to feel you.

you’re giggling again, hips rocking against wooyoung’s fingers through your panties, and he feels the dampness of how wet you are already. the couch creaks beneath the three of you. san’s breath catches when your hand blindly reaches back, finding his and tugging him closer, because you don’t want him watching only, you want him touching you too.

“feels so good...” you whine, words slurred with haze, it comes more out of a moan, and it's not that you haven't behaved like that with them before, but it was a whole lot different. two pairs of eyes are narrowing toward the empty plate on the table, and a shocked expression colors wooyoung’s face.

“oh, shit.”

san blinks. “what?”

“the cookies.”

silence stretches upon the realization. you’re rubbing your thighs together absentmindedly, skin warm, breath shallow. you are trembling, for one reason or another, making wooyoung look at san, and san looks at you, when it all starts to make sense.

“bro,” wooyoung mutters, voice strained. “we put aphrodisiac in those.”

“fuck." san winces, "we were high when we made them… i forgot.” and they didn’t tell you, not because they meant to hide it, but because they forgot about it.

that explains it. the way heat coils low in your stomach, blooming and spreading under your skin until you are flushed, feverish even. your body reacts faster than your thoughts can catch up — pulse loud in your ears, nerves wrecking, making you addicted. you barely have the time to think, maybe not because of the weed, or those yummy chocolate chip cookies you had, because what’s wrong with them? they were baked well. wooyoung always knows to add more chocolate because you like them more stuffed… you wish you were stuffed full instead, wouldn’t that be so nice?

“we made her extra horny now,” wooyoung says, and he is not even panicked; he is so chill about it that his dazed eyes are glued to the way you squirm. “shit... she’s hot though, but what the fuck do we do?”

“i dunno,” san shrugs, but he’s not really present, gaze locked on how you're trembling in his best friend’s arms. his hands are steady when his thumb brushes your waist. “she does feel… really warm.”

your bra digs into your skin, panties too tight, air against your neck making you shiver. the fabric suddenly feels unbearable; it’s getting so hot in here. even your own heartbeat feels intrusive and distracting as you whine softly, clutching at wooyoung’s shirt, as if it might save you from the sudden adrenaline rush.

you thought you learned your lesson, playing by the book, self-improvement, distancing from substances like that. all of it crumbles the second they look at you like this. holding you close just for tonight, wanting to last until morning light, and even in your dazed state, you know one thing, and that is — their affection is more addicting than any drug.

“so do you think i’m just desperate…” you ask, breathless and aroused, fingers twitching between keeping them to yourself or touching the one holding you. they choose for you, sliding up his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm. “or do you know that i’m obsessed with how it feels when we fu—”

he doesn’t let you finish when he kisses you hard, like he’s been holding it back for the last time he had you like this. mouth warm, insistent, teeth biting your lower lip until you melt into him. you arch, while his hands roam down your back, over your ass, squeezing like he’s memorizing, no matter that he knows every part of your body by heart.

then strong hands lift you, and your world spins, as the other black-haired man presses you against him, lips claiming yours next, slower but deeper, kissing you with his hands exploring already claimed territory, thumbs brushing over your nipples through lace until you’re whining into his mouth.

san sits you back down between them, and this time they don’t hesitate. wooyoung slips your bra off, throwing it somewhere, kisses a wet trail down your throat to your chest, tongue flicking until your back bows and toes curl. san’s fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down to your ankles until they hit the floor, spreading you open like he’s ready to enter heaven.

“we’re gonna take care of you,” his eyes searching yours, but they were closed from the pleasure. “okay?”

you nod frantically like a lovesick junkie begging for one more little puff of whatever this is.

they prepare you like an angel needing all the care and love, but your divine being seeks warmth from the devils instead. their fingers are slick, mouths everywhere, every touch feels magnetic, overwhelming in the best way, until you’re aching for more: who could blame you for that?

am i crazy for wanting us to be mutually obsessed? the thought barely forms before san settles between your legs, careful as he lifts them and puts them over his shoulders, adjusting until you’re comfortable. his kisses are hungry, and he can’t resist licking and biting your inner thighs. he got the urge to bite from his best friend, who just loved to mark and munch on your sweet skin.

everything is too much, and somehow, still not enough.

wooyoung’s breath is hot against your shoulder, his mouth following san’s example, biting where he knows you’ll feel it most. they’ve always had a thing for marks, bites, and hickeys: little reminders that are so hard to cover and linger for days. 

letting yourself want it all, when the man between your legs' mouth finally finds its place on your slick and wet folds, a breathy whimper slips out before you can stop it. the way his tongue pushes in, sucking as his hands tighten their hold on your hips, which twitch instinctively.

woo’s hand comes up from behind, as he toys with your nipples with his fingers, making your stomach twist, then wrapping them around your throat, squeezing gently, with you barely registering when they’re in your mouth.

“atta boy,” he murmurs, gazing down at his friend. “save some for me, alright?”

you can’t focus on anything else when san is completely gone. “sannie…” his name slips out softly from your lips, a muffled moan with wooyoung’s fingers still inside your mouth until he drags them out, so you can take a breather.

“baby, you’re so wet for me… look at you,” the beast down there glances up at you then, eyes filled with adoration, mouth curved like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and for some reason, you can’t look away. being extremely needy, and open in a way that feels overwhelming but pleasantly nice. god, his tongue. san doesn’t hold back. he licks, teases, and hums low against your cunt, as he whimpers, while his tongue plunges deeper. “so perfect, ah– so sweet too.” 

you’re trembling, thighs clamping around his head, your hand grips his hair, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he just keeps going, whispering filthy praises every second, accompanied by whimpers and groans. he is literally slurping, mouth and tongue impossible to stop because you are just so delicious, leaving no other way for him but to give in to the temptation to devour you all.

“that’s it, yeah? that’s my good girl… come on, let it all out for me,” his voice is low, and teasing all at once. then it happens. your breathing goes rigid, stomach twists, and your walls clench, pussy gushing over his tongue, spurting uncontrollably as your legs tremble, back arching, making wooyoung drag you back until you hit his chest.

“angel,” san groans, licking up every drop, chuckling against your skin, “look at you squirting for me… making such a mess.” he doesn’t stop moving his fingers and tongue, coaxing out every last drop, because he didn't expect you to squirt instead of just orgasm like normally… he is not complaining, not even a bit. you were already a hot mess, and san couldn’t pretend that you weren’t ready for him at this point.

maybe the cookies weren’t such a bad idea after all. or whatever they stirred in only made this inevitable heightened desire, the kind of want that makes them both cherish you and completely ruin you.

there’s a strange tug-of-war happening inside you. the weed wants you calm, to drift away, pulling you downward into something soft and floaty, like sitting on a cloud or melting inside a cotton candy. it hushes the noise in your head, tells you everything is fine, and you are fully relaxed.

the aphrodisiac does the opposite.

it lights you up from the inside, sparks racing under your skin and it's spreading fast. your body feels like it’s moving a second ahead of your thoughts, responding before you can decide anything. you’re aware of it, at some point, you think you are. it’s confusing and intoxicating, like being set on fire, but it doesn’t hurt at all, because you want to seek the warmth a little bit more.

and then there’s san. his presence alone makes you want to squirt again with the way he focuses on you, so devoted when every movement of his mouth makes you ache in places you can’t even name properly. thoughts scattering like puzzle pieces, and you can’t focus on anything, because it’s like you are hanging upside down, all the blood going directly to flush your face.

wooyoung is everywhere else. hands firm, teeth grazing, reminding you that everything is indeed real and not some wet dream or a figment of your imagination. his touch keeps you from floating away entirely, even as your head feels light and as if you have no thoughts behind those eyes, you know one thing for sure.

you love them — the realization is simple, stripped of overthinking. love in a way that feels consuming and addictive. you don’t know where the line is anymore, between friendship and this rather strange relationship: friends, best friends, maybe… soulmates, if you believed in something that big and unexplainable.

when they praise you, the obsession you pretend isn’t there, hits you straight to the core.

baby, one of them murmurs, doll, the other follows. angel, princess, pretty girl, dove, bunny, sweet thing. each petname is reserved only for you, sending little shocks to both your body and brain. it makes your chest ache, your eyes sting faintly, as you might cry just from being seen, loved and desired all at once.

feeling like you’re in outer space, glowing like the brightest star, as if nothing exists beyond their bodies and voices, that can either make you shine even more, or suck you like a supermassive black hole. and you don’t know what this makes you, just some girl with bad habits, or what it makes them; however, all you know is you never want it to stop.

your thoughts are still high in the endless vast sky when san finally pulls back. heavy breaths, lips still coated with the essence of you, as he settles beside you, shoulder brushing yours, staring up at the ceiling, needing a second to come back to himself. his hand doesn’t let go, though; it’s possessively gripping your thigh, thumb pressing at your still trembling body. the weed keeps whispering slow down, but your suddenly spiked up libido refuses to listen. 

you are needy, extremely needy, that you don't even know what to do, think, or say. should you cry or laugh? shaking all over, feeling the wetness under you on the soft cushion… did you make this mess?

for some reason, you wanted to cry — not because you disliked it, but because the feeling swelled up from somewhere deep inside, overwhelming you with nothing at all, and the show hasn’t even started yet.

wooyoung raises his eyebrow at you and how you’re suddenly zoning out with those pretty dilated eyes of yours, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. poor angel, he thinks, you're so sweet and beautiful that he can't wait to ruin you. he shifts closer, knowing exactly what he’s doing, by wasting time with this mindless toying, watching you squirm and whimper without meaning to.

“feeling needy?” he sweetly asks, as you nod, turning slightly to him to nuzzle your head in his shoulder. cheeks burning, because you need more than being toyed with, more than the slow build that’s driving you out of your mind.

“look at you,” twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers. “so pretty when you’re like this.” the way he says it makes something snap in you when your own hand goes to clutch at his shirt without thinking, “woo, please…”

he tilts his head instead, looking down at you with almost apologetic eyes when it was nothing but a mocking stare. “hmm?” humming at the sound of you and how desperate you are. “what was that, princess?”

shaking your head, embarrassed by how badly you want him to do something, anything but his wandering fingers. “woo… i–”

“no,” he cuts in, fingers tightly pulling the locks he just twirled, and it didn't hurt, but it made you hide your face entirely, “come on, say it, use that pretty mouth of yours.”

you swallow, heart is pounding so loud you’re sure they can hear it. “please…” the word comes out shaky like you are begging for mercy, but oh dear angel, the fun part hasn't started for you to beg like this.

wooyoung leans in closer, his lips brushing your temple, leaving a quick kiss. “please, what?”

“please…" he makes a quiet, pleased sound, dragging the moment out on purpose, letting you sit in the want until it’s only him you can think about. "i want you,” his hand never stops pulling your hair, gently of course, but he will get to the point of being the meanie he is, reminding you exactly how little control you have right now.

“again,” he murmurs. “tell me what you want, don’t be shy… we are here to make you feel good, alright?

"please," each repetition of the words please strips you down further. "please, woo, i need you, i-i just..." your voice gets softer and needier, just the truth spilling out of you. san is at your right, as you didn’t even notice when his hand went up, fingers playing with your clit, massaging and toying with it, and you can only feel even more ashamed that you were so open for them.

wooyoung is closer to your upper body, and you turn into him instinctively, face still tucked into his shoulder, as your hands move on their own, drifting downward his body, finding what you were looking for without having to search. 

“yeah,” his voice low and teasing, almost cooing, as you even turned to him with wide eyes as if you were feeling him for the first time, “of course i am hard, baby… how can i not be?”

he’s entertained by how obvious it all is. really how could he not be, when it’s you? when you’re like this — pretty, horny, exposed, pressed between them. his hand comes up to your back, fingers caressing your spine as you shiver slightly, keeping you right where he wants you.

“our pretty doll,” he adds, mockingly gentle. you don’t even realize when san’s touch changes when he starts pumping slowly with two of his fingers, it pulls a quiet moan from you, and you try to hide by biting your lips, embarrassed by how easily you react. your legs are shaking, you're even more aroused, and you don't just want their fingers and mouths. you want the real sweet pink lollipops.

wooyoung notices the way you shake, how tears start to slide down your cheeks, and his hand slides up, fingers tilting your chin so that he can murmur against your mouth. “listen to yourself,” he pecks your lips, “it sounds even sweeter when you don't know what to say or do. isn't that right, san, don't you agree?”

between them, there’s no sense of being used, because they don’t take from you… they share you.

some days it’ll be just san, leaving you glowing and aching for hours. other days it’ll be wooyoung, all teasing smiles, watching the way you wobble afterward. and sometimes, like tonight, it’ll be both of them: messy and too much into it.

they spoil you like a princess, and ruin you like a slut.

san is somewhere else entirely. all he can think about is being inside you too, so while you weren’t looking, being distracted by wooyoung, who loved teasing and edging you… he’d been stroking himself, fingers slipping between your thighs at the same time. he’s leaking, fully hard, pre-cum sliding down his tip as he whimpers, cheeks flushing red and warm, answering only with a breathless:

“hah– yeah… yeah, i uh– what was the question again?”

wooyoung chuckles, turning toward his friend just in time to catch him with his cock out, then his gaze drops to you, eyes fluttering shut at the way san’s fingers work you, lips parting as you unconsciously lick them. that’s when wooyoung decides he’s done waiting.

“san,” saying calmly to his best friend, “just fuck her.” it’s not advice or a suggestion, it’s an order. between the three of you, he’s the control freak, the ringleader if anyone had to be given a role. then his attention shifts back to you, fingers already pulling your hands away from his pants.

“as for you, my pretty girl,” he adds, smiling wickedly at you, “i’ll find a good use for that mouth. just don’t try to choke, yeah?”

the zipper comes down as you watch the black denim pools at his feet, leaving him in boxers darkened with damp stains. he catches you staring, clicks his tongue, tells you to behave “eyes up,” and your gaze meets his. he’s about to explain the position he wants when san beats him to it.

suddenly you’re on all fours on the couch. san is right behind you, his cock presses against your soaked entrance. you swallow hard, breath catching, only to lift your head and find wooyoung right there — his length waiting at your lips.

san is slowly fucking you from behind, hands settling firm on your waist, your back arches instinctively, offering him everything, and the sight of your ass: plush, plump, bouncing every time he draws back, has him biting his lip hard. he has always been an ass guy, and always will be. “fuck…” he breathes, voice wrecked already, thumbs digging in to leave marks.

he doesn’t push all the way in at once; rolling his hips forward carefully, stretching you slowly, letting you feel every part as you clench around him, when he finds a rhythm that makes your eyes roll.

“you’re doing so good, angel,” grunting and growling, letting his breathy deep voice come to life. “so pretty like this… taking me so well.” your answer is a broken moan, walls fluttering around him, and he can’t help the soft whimper that slips out when you squeeze him even thighter, the sound of skin slapping making you think about how it’s been too long. you can feel it in the way he tries to find a pace, because it’s been what… four months, maybe? long enough that this feels like a reunion.

and then there’s wooyoung. you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes, lips parted and glossy, and he groans quietly as his hand tightens around his flushed cock, pressing the heaviness of it against your mouth, smirking down at you like he already knows you’ll take it all.

“look at you,” he scoffs softly. “open wide, princess.”

and you do, because being stretched open is the thing you are phenomenal at, best of the best.

he slides in, just the tip at first, dragging it slowly across your tongue, letting you adjust to it. “that’s it,” he mutters, thumb brushing your cheek when you relax your jaw. “good girl. you’re really made for this, huh?”

pushing a little deeper, watching your throat work as you take him, wet sounds filling the room. “don’t get shy now. you’re so good at being used.” behind you, san groans your name, throwing his head back, hips slamming hard when he feels the way you squeeze him while reacting to wooyoung’s voice.

“she’s so… beautiful,” san whispers, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin even as he starts to thrust more firmly. “taking both of us like this… god, baby, you’re perfect.”

your moans turn muffled around wooyoung, drool slicking his cock as he guides your head, hand gripping your hair for better control of your movements, “yeah,” a low praiseful whisper, fingers dining into your hair, “just like that, don’t think about anything else.”

san’s cock hammers into you from behind, hips rolling harder, pulling you against him as his hands grip your waist tight. every curve of your ass makes him bite his lip, low groans rattling out, “fuck… so tight…” he’s praising as he slams into you deeper and faster, loving the way your gummy walls love him. every moan that spills from your lips has him whimpering with you.

at the same time, wooyoung’s cock stretches your mouth wide, tip pressing past your gag reflex, making you cough and choke slightly. drool and saliva slide down your chin, your palms dig into the soft couch cushions, knees braced, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as you try to catch a breath.

“don’t start with your crocodile tears, you’re not fooling anyone,” wooyoung snaps, tugging your hair with one hand, while the other has his thumb pressing against your chin to keep your mouth open. “i won’t slow down just because you can’t take it… like you’ve never sucked a dick before.”

you’re not faking it; your body genuinely can’t handle it. he doesn’t like hesitation, and that just makes him smirk cruelly, pushing deeper, head brushing the back of your throat. “doll, don’t pretend you don’t want it.” his tone is so devilish, “it’s not every day i feel generous enough to give it to you directly instead of teasing.”

eyes rolling at the overwhelming sensations, at the slick heat filling both your pussy and your mouth. san’s thrusts are needy and hard, pounding into you with heavy sounds of skin slapping. wooyoung’s words sting even as he praises you, and it’s too much, making every nerve scream. you want more, crave both of them at once, but your mouth is already full, and your body is shaking from overstimulation.

san groans your name, your back arching, thrusts growing desperate. “(name)… baby, i–” he chokes out just before spilling inside you in thick, hot waves. your mouth freezes mid-suck around wooyoung as you squeeze san, pussy clenching him deeper, milking him as he moans, whimpers, whines through the pleasure, slowly fucking his cum in you.

wooyoung doesn’t like that — doesn’t like when you slow down or stop. his grip on your hair is tightening, cock twitching violently. “hey, hey,” he hisses, “you’re not done with me, little whore. you don’t get to stop just because he came inside you. open up.”

he pushes forward, pressing even harder against your throat, making your gag reflex spike, and the room fills with your muffled whines, moans, and the wet slaps of two cocks at once.

everywhere you feel it: inside, dripping on your legs, and on your tongue. you’re overstimulated, crying, whining, clenching, and still craving both of them. being used exactly like this, at their complete mercy, it’s too much, but you can’t stop, and neither of them wants you to.

san doesn’t pull out, not even after you’ve milked him dry. his hands stay firm on your hips, cock still buried deep, because your pussy feels too good to leave just yet. “look at you,” he pants softly, can’t get enough of the sight. “squeezing me like that.”

your body follows him with another broken cry spilling out as you come with him. slick heat dripping down your thighs while he slowly fucks his cum into you, shuddering through whimpers, staying buried in you.

wooyoung doesn’t have that patience. he’s already close, the grip tightening in your hair as he starts fucking your mouth again, meaner now. you choke, cough around him, tears still spilling, and he laughs under his breath. “aren't you a pathetic little thing?”

his thrusts slow suddenly, until only the tip of his cock presses past your lips. you barely have time to register it before he groans, cumming straight into your mouth. it spills thick and warm, hitting your tongue, your lips, dripping down your chin and onto the couch. he watches proudly of the mess you make. you try to pull back, just a little, however, he doesn’t let you.

“don’t you dare…you don’t spit,” wooyoung growls, fingers pushing under your chin, cockhead nudging your lips. he stuffs it back into your mouth, making sure you swallow every bit. “good, that’s it. take it.”

you’re too fucked out to fight him and be a brat, overstimulated, tears still sliding as you swallow, and it feels humiliating and too much all at once.

he finally pulls out, stroking himself lazily while still slick with his release, smearing it over his hand, adding to the mess already ruined on the couch. you sob openly now, choking on broken sounds, body trembling. wooyoung’s hand shifts from your hair to gentle strokes, fingers combing through slowly, almost tender. san’s hands follow suit, rubbing soothing paths over your hips and spine. 

that’s when you choke out, his cum still dripping out from your lips as you wipe with your hand, “m-more… i want more, p-please, i–”

they look at each other, because you really want more? usually that’s it, they both cum, and so do you, cuddles and aftercare follow. san’s about to ask you if you could really handle more because look at you… you're like a wounded rabbit, you can't move, you just tremble. with two bullets, they killed you good.

when wooyoung’s phone buzzes on the table, face down, it breaks all three of you from the trance, finally taking a breather, when san asks, still gently caressing your body to calm you down. “who is it?”

wooyoung scoffs. “don’t fucking care. probably yeonjun or changbin wanting me to give ‘em weed.”

he ignores it, doesn't want anyone to ruin the mood, since your body is still clenching around san. wooyoung exhales slowly, as he looks back at you, then at his best friend. “sannie” casually asks, “you wanna be under her?”

the man blinks, ready to open his mouth and say okay, and the other just smirks. “i’ll take care of her, don’t worry. i’ll be gentle, but no promises~”

the three of you already know what it means. san has to pull out, and even as he does, he murmurs promises, telling you he’ll be back inside you before you can even miss him. wooyoung makes him guide you instead, watching closely, eyes never leaving you for a second.

san pauses, holding your hand as you sit at the edge of the couch, having already switched places with the other stoner. “do i really need to lie down?” he asks, glancing at the mess. “it’s all dirty…”

wooyoung pulls his sweatshirt over his head, as he shoots a look to his friend, “you’ve got a shirt on. what’s the problem?”

san exhales, flustered. “i– nevermind then…” then his voice softens, sweet again when he looks at you. “(name), princess… come here.” that gentle tone makes you always follow without thinking.

you do exactly that, letting him guide you as you line yourself up again, sinking slowly onto his thick cock, until you’re seated fully, then lying back, feeling his toned body on your back even through the fabric. “good,” san breathes, arms wrapping around you. “that’s it, baby. so good, mm?”

you nod against his shoulder, when one of his hands slips up to your chest, squeezing your tits briefly before both hands move to your thighs, opening you wider for wooyoung.

when you finally lift your eyes to him, really look, your gaze softens despite everything. he’s beautiful too — toned, veins standing out, tattoos stark against his skin: the rose on his forearm, the latin quote along his ribs, the others you know by memory, tho you can’t see the matching one he has with san. his abs, his v-line, it makes you wet all over again.

“angel,” wooyoung says softly for once, “want you focused.”

dropping to his knees, the couch dipping under his weight as he lines himself up. you maintain eye contact, even when he hisses under his breath, cursing quietly because san’s girth already fills you so much there’s barely any room left.

but it’s fine. you’ve done this before, more than once. third time now, right? they say the third time is the charm.

your pussy is swollen, sensitive, still warm from before, but you stay open, and obedient. they’ll be gentle, at least… one promised so, you are worried about the other.

wooyoung finally slides inside you, and you scream at the stretch of it: too full with two cocks inside you at once. your body trembles, breath breaking as they start to rock into you together, slow at first, letting you adjust. your hands try to hold your legs open, but give up quickly.

the man above is already gripping one of your legs high up, holding you open as san mirrors him, his left hand spreading your other thigh while his right slides down your waist, fingers finding your clit. the touch pulls a sharp moan from you, blessing their ears, eyes and souls.

“woo… san– fuck, ah–” you chant their names, the only other words you know besided more and please. you are surely under some kind of spell, but the truth is, you are under some substances that you will definitely try out again.

san watches over your shoulder, breath hitching at the sight of him and his best friend inside you, making your body give out even as you take it. “such a good girl,” he murmurs, because you always take it, even if you think you can’t.

wooyoung tightens his grip, opening you wider, forcing you to take them deeper. you hiss at the burn, eyes squeezing shut; however, the pleasure crashes over it immediately, and it’s so overwhelming. “yeah,” a breathy grunt coming from him, “that’s it, pretty. keep saying our names like that.”

and you do, again and again, orgasm after orgasm, all night long. maybe you are a greedy little whore — because you let two men fuck you at the same damn time and you keep asking for more. wooyoung stays gentle only for so long before his thrusts grow rougher, more demanding, while san stays slower beneath you, forced to match what your body can take.

the sounds take over with the skin slapping, balls hitting, wet and obscene, when your moans mix with soft whines. then again, the phone couldn't stop ringing, but he ignored it, not now, he thinks to whoever decided to call him. san grunts and whimpers under you, fingers never leaving your clit, while wooyoung just groans low and deep, hips snapping harder. both of them praise you, voices overlapping, each trying to outdo the other, both in words and in how deep they push.

“i need to… woo, s-san please... ngh–” they both know what you need.

you’re already right there, their cocks leaking, heads pushing deeper as they pick up the pace just enough. then it hits you, hard and sudden, a blissful wave tearing through you, soaking their lengths as your body clenches uncontrollably.

wooyoung comes first, much to everyone’s surprise, cursing under his breath as he spills inside you. san follows moments later, fingers still working your clit until he finally grabs your waist, holding you down as he empties himself too.

you’re wrecked and completely full.

wooyoung doesn’t soften completely after, but the praise doesn’t stop. “that’s it, baby,” a little rough even as his hands steady you. his thumb presses lightly into your thigh as san continues, “easy now… we're so proud of you.”

they stay inside you until there’s nothing left to give, both of them shuddering through the last of it before slowly pulling out. san lifts you carefully as he helps you sit up. you hiss from the impact, lungs struggling to pull in air, body ruined in the most beautiful way, eyes are glossy from crying, and you don’t even know where you are anymore.

it’s warm, their release spills out of you in slow, obscene trails, dripping down your thighs. it’s so much that it almost makes you dizzy. they’ve never cummed like that before, never ever you have seen so much cum in your life or felt it in you.

and then they’re there again next to your sides, hands brushing hair off your forehead, thumbs wiping tears from your cheeks. kisses pressed softly to your shoulders, collarbone, and your face. san murmurs about a bath, clean clothes, and being tucked in bed. all the care and tenderness you’ve earned.

they’ll take care of you because their pretty doll always knows how to offer her heart, body and soul.

you don’t hear them talking over you, because you’re already halfway asleep.

“i’ll go prepare the shower,” san says, standing and stretching, and then it hits you that you are all butt-naked. “you get towels from her room.”

you sway slightly where you sit, exhausted beyond thought. wooyoung stays close, arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you into him. water starting moments later, and you hear the sound, it’s a little calming actually. you’re exhausted, and for half a second, you smile and wonder about shower sex.

wooyoung reads your thoughts because he knows what that sleepy smile of yours is about. “angel,” he says, pulling you gently against his side, arm around your shoulders. “as much as i want to… no more sex tonight.” 

you hum instead of answering, eyes sliding shut, listening to the water run. “sorry for being mean,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, then another. “but i know you like it.”

after that, everything is warm water and gentle hands. you’re clean, wrapped in a fluffy towel, skin smelling like coconut and orchids. wooyoung dries your hair carefully, fingers gentle even as the dryer hums, while san prepares your bed by straightening sheets, making space for your plushies where you like them when you sleep.

they dress you in fresh panties and an oversized shirt, guiding you until you’re tucked in, plushie hugged to your chest. they kiss you goodnight, eyes, nose, lips as you murmur, “i love you,” and they say it back without hesitation. "we love you too, doll."

then your best friends leave you to rest and return to the living room that still smells like sex. the couch can wait to be cleaned; towels are thrown over it for now. they’ve showered too, changed clothes, and are playing something quietly on the tv not disturb you.

because monsters or not when they fuck you, aftercare is a must.

already sitting side by side, the half-lit joint from earlier rests between wooyoung’s fingers. he finally takes a drag and offers it to san, who hesitates before accepting, smoke curling lazily between them. only then does wooyoung finally check his phone.

“shit.”

“oh,” san frowns at his own screen. “looks like i’ve been spammed too.”

your phone lies abandoned on the table, and they pick it up, curiosity getting the better of them. when they unlock it, the screen floods with notifications and missed calls, far worse than theirs. they exchange a glance, the same thought settling between them without a word.

how the hell are they supposed to explain to your boyfriend, yunho, that some addictions you just can't quit?

happy valentine's day ♡

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Powder in the eyes, cheap shot, sure. But the crowd roared when San went down, blinded and bleeding. Danny had walked out with the cash and the victory, and in his mind, that made it fair. The rain matted his hair to his forehead, the sharp scent of ozone and wet concrete wrapping around him as he lit a cigarette with fumbling fingers as somewhere behind him, a door creaked. He didn’t turn. Didn’t notice the shadow step out from the alleyway. Didn’t notice the other one already tailing him across the street, boots splashing in time with the thunder.

Two figures. One lean, cloaked in black with a slightly off kilter gait, like a dancer enjoying a private joke. The other, broader, quieter, precision in motion. Both masked. Both deadly.

The cigarette was gone by the time Danny reached the corner of Valentine and 6th, a grimy little intersection where even the streetlights gave up. The only illumination came from flickers of lightning cracking across the sky, brief flashes revealing graffiti covered walls and busted out windows. He muttered to himself as he stepped over a soggy pizza box and into the narrow hallway of his apartment building, a concrete coffin of a place with peeling paint and that ever present reek of mildew, sweat, and leftover Chinese takeout.

Unit 206. The lock stuck, like it always did. He jiggled the key, cursed under his breath. The moment the lock clicked, Danny shoved the door open, kicking aside a pile of junk mail and stepping into the dark. The building was quiet, too quiet. Most of the tenants worked late or didn’t come home at all. The overhead light in his unit buzzed once and died as he grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter, peeling off his wet jacket. Outside his window, thunder rolled in the echoing silence until the sound of soft, dragging leather across tile caught his attention.

Danny turned, confused, not yet afraid. Then the door to his apartment creaked open… slowly. But no one was there. He walked toward it and stood in the threshold of his shitty little apartment, blinking into the hallway. No one. Just flickering overheads and the sound of rain dripping through the broken skylight near the stairs. Maybe the wind had pushed the door back open. Or maybe he hadn’t closed it all the way. That’s what he told himself. Still, he locked it this time. Triple bolt. Slamming it shut and turning around only to freeze.

His kitchen light was on now and it hadn’t been before. And standing directly beneath it, like a fucked up painting brought to life, was a figure in a long black robe and a gleaming Ghostface mask. The fabric clung wetly to his chest, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Playful and mocking as a gloved hand tapped a kitchen knife against his thigh, casual, like he was considering how to use it.

Danny stumbled back a step, heart climbing up his throat. “Who the fuck…”

“Oh, Danny boy,” the voice crooned, playful and syrup slick through the modulated distortion. “You didn’t really think that cheap trick would go unpunished, did you?” The mask tilted again, almost amused as Danny’s eyes darted to the hallway. Too far. The window? Nailed shut. The fire escape? Blocked by an old dresser he never moved. “I mean…. powder? Really? What’s next? Thumbtacks in the gloves? Banana peels in the ring?” Ghostface took a step forward, boots squelching on the wet floor. “San could’ve gone blind, you know. Which would’ve been very inconvenient for me. He’s the only one who knows how to make my coffee just right.”

Danny lunged for the drawer where he kept an old hunters knife, but Ghostface was already there, quicker, smoother, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the counter. The distorted laugh echoed in the tiny space, and Ghostface leaned in close, mask nearly touching Danny’s face. “You don’t get to win dirty and walk away, sweetheart. Not in our city.” He brought the blade up to Danny’s throat, not slicing, not yet, just resting it there. Just enough for Danny to feel the cold edge of inevitability. “Any last words for the crowd, champ?”

Danny tried to spit in his face, but the mask tilted back just in time, unbothered. “Cute,” Ghostface said. “But not original.” Danny’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs, raw and ragged. “Y… You’re crazy,” he hissed, cradling his bruised wrist, stumbling back as the Ghostface in the kitchen stalked toward him, blade twirling with flair. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Aw, come on,” Wooyoung said behind the mask, voice light, teasing and mean. “That’s not very gratitude core of you. I did wait until you got home, didn’t I?” Danny’s spine met the edge of the counter as he backed up and kept backing, heart pounding, eyes wide, completely missing the second figure emerging from the hallway behind him. The second Ghostface was silent. Still. Watching and waiting as Danny took one more step and collided hard with something solid. He turned, gasping and the second Ghostface shoved him backward with both hands right into Wooyoung’s waiting arms.

“Gotcha,” Wooyoung purred, plunging the knife deep into Danny’s gut with an elegant little twist, like he was carving a ribbon into a present. Danny choked, a wet, guttural sound as he stumbled back, eyes wide, hands flying to the fresh wound. Blood poured out in thick, dark ropes as he staggered toward the hallway, hand leaving smeared red fingerprints on the wall as he gasped for air and ran, pure instinct, blind and stumbling toward the only thing that made sense, his bedroom. He didn’t even realize he was screaming as his legs barely carried him across the threshold, crashing into the dresser as he scrambled to shut the door behind him but it didn’t click all the way.

And it didn’t matter. Because the soft sound of boots against tile was still coming. Steady. Rhythmic and mocking as Danny collapsed to the floor, crawling now, fingers reaching for the phone on his nightstand because like an idiot he realized he left his damn cell at the bar, he knocked over a lamp, the shade crashing to the ground and just as he wrapped his trembling hand around the phone…..

The bedroom door opened. Two figures stood in the frame, Ghostface masks grinning like death itself had a sense of humor. Danny was gasping now, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other slick with blood as he tried to crawl backward, away from the figures in the doorway. His legs weren’t working right. His vision was blurring. He could barely hear over the sound of his own panicked breathing as one of them stepped forward. The broader one. Quieter.

Ghostface didn’t speak. Just crossed the room in slow, even strides and then without ceremony, dropped to a knee in front of him and Danny flinched, eyes wild as the knife in the masked figure’s hand came down, not into him, but into the floorboards. Buried there with a sudden crack, the blade quivering in place beside Danny’s shaking leg. And then, slowly, purposefully, the figure reached up and pulled the mask off.

It was San. His dark hair was soaked, sweat and rain glistening on his jaw, and his eyes, those soft, sweet eyes the crowd always underestimated, were dark and unreadable now. Calm. Cold. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at Danny, head tilted, watching him squirm as Danny’s expression crumpled with shock, disbelief crawling over his features. “No…” he breathed, shaking his head. “No fucking way…”

San’s voice was steady. Quiet. Almost gentle. “You could’ve fought clean.”

Danny’s lip curled, rage flaring like a last ditch defense mechanism. “You serious? You’re gonna kill me over a fight?”

San’s mouth twitched just slightly as Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck….” He nodded toward the second Ghostface still standing in the doorway, knife gleaming. “That your boyfriend under that one?”

“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the modulator, dripping with exasperation and theatrical offense. He stepped into the room with a dramatic flair, unbothered by the gore or tension. “Is it the matching masks? The coordinated kills? The cohabitation? We only fucked a few times. Calm down.” He peeled his mask off as he walked, revealing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and a smudge of blood on his cheek like war paint. He crouched beside San, elbow brushing his as he glanced down at Danny like he was barely more interesting than a popped tire.

“Anyway,” Wooyoung added, tone light, “if I was gonna date someone, it wouldn’t be a guy who wears camo to dinner.” San didn’t react. He just reached over and yanked the knife from the floor, jaw set as he wiped a thumb across his knuckles methodically, like someone tidying up after dinner. “I don’t… like dirty players,” he said, voice low and even, the kind of voice that made the room feel colder even though the apartment was still thick with humidity and the smell of hot cigarettes. He never shouted. He didn’t need to.

Wooyoung moved before Danny could draw a breath. Fast, practiced, an arm wrapping around Danny’s chest, pinning him as if the man were already a coat to be shrugged off. Danny thrashed, fist and elbow flailing, panic making him clumsy and loud as San stepped forward, the knife gleaming dull under the single buzzing bulb. He didn’t hesitate. There was no flourish, no dramatic pause, just the brutal efficiency of a man who knew exactly how to end something and had done it before.

One movement and the blade found the first eye. Danny’s scream tore out of him, a raw, animal sound that bounced off the cheap plaster and disappeared into the stairwell. He clawed at San’s hand, fingers scrabbling for purchase on wet tile. His hands left frantic streaks across the counter as he tried to push away, to shove, to move. San’s face didn’t change. He pushed the knife again, the second time more deliberate, and then the first eye stilled in Danny’s face like an impossible, awful punctuation. He blinked when there was nothing left to blink with, a wet, ragged blink that made him choke.

Wooyoung’s grip tightened and his free hand found Danny’s jaw and tilted the head up so San could reach the other side. There was a mechanical calm to the way the two of them moved together, one holding, one finishing, ritualized and cold. When the second movement came, Danny’s scream broke into a wet, keening sound. He slammed backwards, palms skidding against the floor, knees giving out. For a frantic second his hands clawed at the doorway, at the floor, at any texture that would anchor him as he stumbled to his feet with the disoriented momentum of someone trying to wake from a nightmare.

Blood and rain slicked the tiles, but everything else was a jagged, muffled world. He lurched toward the bedroom window like a man trying to find the exit in darkness, boots slipping on the plastic that had been tracked in from the hallway. He fumbled with the latch, hands trembling so badly they couldn’t form a coherent motion. San and Wooyoung followed, shadows advancing with them, Wooyoung’s laugh was soft, almost conversational, like someone commenting on weather. San kept his face angled down, his breathing measured as Danny threw the window open and there was air, wet and sharp, and instinct, and the stupid bright idea that maybe the fall would jar him back to sense.

He didn’t look down. He tried to climb, tried to pull himself up on the narrow balcony rail, but his balance was gone. The world spun. He crashed through with a flailing, desperate momentum, the lattice tearing like paper. There was a horrible, single instant of suspended weight as his body cleared the sill and then dropped, a graceless, terrible arc and hit the pavement below with a finality that sucked the sound right out of the rainy night.

On the balcony, San didn’t move for a long, steady breath. Wooyoung looked down once, face unreadable for a heartbeat, then turned back toward the doorway like they were leaving a party they hadn’t enjoyed. San slid the knife back into his boot as if it were an inconvenient utensil as Wooyoung clipped the mask back on and offered San a crooked half smile, a private thing between them, before they folded back into the hallway’s shadow and disappeared down the stairs, leaving the apartment to the buzzing light and the rain.

Down below, the street absorbed the body without ceremony. The city, which had been trying to wash itself clean, simply kept on raining.

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The hallway was dim, the overhead light buzzing like it needed to die already. The rain had passed, but the damp stuck to the walls and floor, soaking into everything like grief. Somewhere downstairs, a dog barked followed by someone else slamming a door. It was just another Tuesday in Los Angeles as Y/N leaned against her front door, phone clutched tight in her hand, jaw clenched. “I’m not coming home, Mom.” She wasn’t yelling. Yet. But her voice had that tone, the kind that said she was circling the drain. “I don’t care what he said. I don’t care if he showed up crying in your office or bought you flowers or swore on your favorite rosary. That doesn’t mean he changed.” She paused, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her mother’s voice filtered through the speaker, sharp and layered in guilt. “He’s not perfect, but he loves you. People fight, Y/N. He made a mistake.”

That nearly made her laugh. “A mistake is forgetting to pick up dinner. Not breaking my fucking wrist.” Her mom huffed. “Watch your language.” Y/N blinked hard, her throat tight as the light above her flickered. “You know I didn’t leave for fun, right?” she said, quieter now. “I left because I thought if I stayed, I’d end up….”

“Stop,” her mother snapped. “You’re being dramatic. He’s trying to make things right. He’s been asking about you.”

“Great.” Y/N snapped right back. “He can ask all he wants. I’m not flying back to New York just because he’s suddenly sorry.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Don’t be blind.”

“This isn’t like you,” her mother finally said, low and disappointed. “You’re not this bitter.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut and her grip on the phone shook. “Yeah,” she murmured. “And you’re not usually this cruel.” She hung up before she could hear the reply letting the hallway fill with silence, except for her shallow breathing and the faint hum of city noise leaking in from the cracked window at the stairwell. She leaned against the cool wood of her apartment door. She stood there for a moment, staring at the chipped floor tile like it might hold answers. Then she heard the door across the hall creak open. Apartment 3B.

She glanced up just in time to see Wooyoung step out, barefoot and blissfully unfazed, holding a carton of orange juice like it was a chalice. His platinum blonde hair was still damp from a shower, sticking to his forehead in soft messy tufts. Gray sweats slung low on his hips, a black tank top clinging to his frame, silver chain resting on his collarbones like decoration on a weapon. His smirk was subtle but there. “Hey,” he said easily. Y/N straightened up, blinking once to shake off the conversation residue. “Hey.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, carton in hand. “You alright?” he asked, eyes flicking toward her phone. “You sounded kind of… murdery.” That pulled a soft snort out of her, more breath than laugh, but still something.

“Just my mom,” she said. “She wants me to go back to New York.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “And let him win?” Her head snapped up, startled, but then she saw the way he was watching her. Not cruel. Not judging. Just knowing. She looked away, embarrassed. “You heard that?” He shrugged. “Old pipes. Shitty building. Not my fault the walls are emotionally codependent.” That earned him a real laugh, quiet and unguarded as she ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve been arguing on and off since I moved here.”

“I figured.” He tilted the carton toward her. “You’ve got the same don’t fuck with me face I had after my cousin’s wedding.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your cousin’s wedding?”

“Long story. Involved shrimp cocktails, a fake pregnancy announcement, and a very drunk groomsman with a nipple ring.”

Y/N blinked. “That sounds like a story I absolutely need to hear.” Wooyoung grinned, and it did something strange to the air between them, charged it a little as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, not too close, just… there. “You wanna come over for a bit?” he asked, voice lighter now. “San made too much pasta and we’ve been watching The Shining like it’s a romcom.” Y/N tilted her head. “That… actually sounds perfect.” He held the door open with one hand, gesturing like a dramatic hotel concierge. “Madam.”

Y/N stepped across the threshold into their apartment, not quite sure what she expected, but surprised at how… lived in it felt. The place was cozy, if a little chaotic. Posters and old fight flyers were tacked up on the wall beside shelves crammed with blurays and video games. The living room was lit by the soft glow of a lamp with a cracked shade, and something that smelled like garlic and red pepper hung thick in the air. “Ignore the mess,” Wooyoung said, closing the door behind them. “San doesn’t know what a laundry basket is. He thinks the couch is the basket.” A voice came from deeper in the room, low and tired. “I can hear you, asshole.”

Y/N turned and looked at San. He was sprawled out on the couch in black sweatpants and a black tank top that matched Wooyoung’s, one arm draped over the back cushion, the other holding a spoonful of pasta that had long since cooled. His hair was still damp from a shower, a few strands curling over his forehead, and there was a faint bruise blooming along his jaw, old enough to not look fresh, new enough to make her stare a little too long. He looked up when she entered and didn’t look away as Y/N offered a small, polite smile. “Hey, San.” He nodded slowly, like it took effort to look casual. “Hey.” Wooyoung breezed past her, already grabbing two forks and a third bowl from the drying rack. “She’s staying for pasta and horror clichés,” he called.

Y/N moved further in, pretending she didn’t notice the way San’s eyes tracked her the entire time, like she was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. He didn’t speak again. Didn’t need to. The silence said enough. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. But it was… thick. She sat down on the edge of the loveseat beside the couch and crossed her legs, trying not to notice the way his gaze lingered on the exposed stretch of skin just above her knee before flicking back up to her face. San had never really talked to her much. A few “good mornings,” a few quiet nods in the hall. He wasn’t like Wooyoung, didn’t flirt or banter or ask what she was listening to through her headphones. But now, sitting this close, the quiet buzzed between them. And he was looking at her. Not in a creepy way. But not in an innocent one, either.

The movie was playing, but nobody was really watching. Y/N sat between them now on the couch, her bowl of pasta balanced on her knees, fork twirling absently as thunder cracked from the TV. Jack Nicholson was yelling in a snowstorm, but the real storm was the glances San kept failing to hide. Wooyoung sat to her right, one leg tucked under him, his head tipped back against the cushion as he picked at his own bowl. He wasn’t subtle about watching her either, but his gaze didn’t linger. His style was quick flicks, playful jabs, heat without the ache. San, though? He was hurting. He sat on her left, elbow on the armrest, hand half covering his mouth like he thought it might disguise the fact that he hadn’t looked away from her in at least ten minutes. His pasta was untouched as he watched her lips every time she took a bite. Watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Watched the stretch of her thigh where her shorts rode up when she shifted.

And of course Y/N noticed. How could she not? She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, slow, unfazed. But her body shifted ever so slightly toward him on instinct. Not away. And San, poor San, almost dropped his fork. “So,” Wooyoung said suddenly, grinning over the rim of his glass. “You ever been to an underground fight?” Y/N blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Like… real ones?”

“Very real,” Wooyoung said, winking. “Blood, sweat, broken noses, the occasional flying tooth.”

“That sounds wildly illegal.”

“Illegal?” he gasped, mock offended. “Absolutely not. It’s a totally normal sweaty man violence club held in a condemned warehouse run by a guy named Rico who owns four snakes and a pet raccoon.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not serious.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Come Friday night and find out.” San shifted beside her but said nothing as Y/N glanced at him. “Wait… do you fight?” He paused. The muscles in his jaw twitching as he shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Wooyoung snorted. “He’s the headliner. Crowd favorite. Once punched a guy so hard he threw up.”

San sighed. “He bit me first.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He bit you?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung leaned in. “And then San broke his ribs and gave him a concussion.”

“I didn’t give him the concussion.”

“Oh, my bad.” Wooyoung took another bite. “The floor did.”

Y/N looked back at San. “So you’re, like… dangerous.” His eyes flicked to hers, dark, unreadable and something in his chest visibly tightened. “Only when I need to be.” The words hung in the air for a second too long and Wooyoung smirked into his glass as San looked away first. Y/N finished her last bite and placed the bowl on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch. Unknowingly sitting between two men who’d both killed someone less than a couple days ago. One of them trying not to explode from how good she smelled. The other trying not to say something like, Wanna wear my knife like jewelry?

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Wednesday smelled like burnt coffee, dry printer paper, and someone’s off brand cologne that should’ve been outlawed in 2011. The office was a colorless blur of gray cubicles and cheap carpet, the hum of fluorescent lights mixing with the distant clack of keyboards and the occasional sigh of a broken spirit as Y/N sat at her desk in the far left corner of the floor, staring blankly at the spreadsheet glowing on her monitor like it might suddenly become interesting. It never did though. Her job was, technically, client data coordination, which really meant organizing paperwork that people like Brian were supposed to help file and then somehow always forgot about until the last minute.

Speak of the devil…. “Hey, Y/N,” Brian’s voice carried from behind her partition like a nasal storm cloud. “Quick question.” She turned in her chair slowly, already bracing herself as Brian leaned one elbow on the cubicle wall, tall enough to peer over it like a nosy giraffe. His tie was crooked. His smile smug. “Any reason the ledger reports for Q2 haven’t been submitted yet?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows in faux innocence. “They’re due today. You were supposed to send them to Mel by noon.” She stared at him. “You were supposed to log them into the portal first. Remember? We split the task Monday.” Brian gave a slow shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t think that was me. You sure?” Y/N fought the urge to throw her stapler at his face. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mel, the department head, look up from her glass office and Brian, of course, saw it too. “I mean, if it’s your part that’s holding things up, we should probably just let Mel know so it doesn’t reflect poorly on the team.”

Y/N stood up, voice sharp but controlled. “Brian, the folder was on your desk yesterday. I emailed you a reminder. Twice.” He gave her a look that was all pity and performance. “I didn’t see any email.”

“Maybe check your inbox instead of TikTok next time.” That earned a snicker from someone a few cubicles over and Brian’s jaw clenched. “Wow. Okay. No need to be hostile.”

“Then stop lying.”

The air tensed as Mel opened her door. “Y/N, Brian,” she called, voice polite but clipped. “Can I see you both in my office?” Brian gave her a what did I do? smirk and strolled ahead like a smug golden retriever that just peed on the rug as Y/N followed, teeth gritted and palms itching.

Sometimes she wanted to stab him with her pen until the ink turned from blue to red.

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The pizza place smelled like melted cheese and old dreams, exactly what Y/N needed after a day spent in cubicle hell. The bell over the door jingled weakly as she stepped in, hair damp from the light drizzle outside, purse slung over one shoulder like it was carrying all her rage. She didn’t bother looking around. Just bee lined to the counter and gave the guy a flat, “Two slices of pepperoni, please,” before collapsing into the booth nearest the window. Her head thumped back against the cushion.

She hadn’t even taken a bite when someone cleared their throat gently. “You look like you fought a printer and lost.” San. Alone. Black hoodie. Soft joggers. Damp hair pushed back under a black cap. His hands in his pockets. No Wooyoung. Just him. The last person she expected to see without the chaos twin attached at the hip.

He gave her the softest smile. Like he didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t just walk past her either. “Mind if I sit?” Y/N nodded, surprised at how easy the yes came out. “Yeah. I mean… no. Sit.” He slid into the booth across from her, legs slightly spread, arms folded casually on the table. His eyes flicked to her pizza, then back up to her face. “Rough day?” She let out a snort that was barely a laugh. “You could say that.” He raised an eyebrow and she hesitated, then shook her head. “Just… work stuff. Office drama. You ever meet someone whose whole personality is blaming other people?”

San’s lips twitched. “I fight people for fun. But yeah, I’ve met that kind of guy.”

She smiled at that. “Brian,” she muttered like it was a curse. “My coworker. Lost the reports he was supposed to file, threw me under the bus, and then played victim in front of my boss.” San didn’t say anything right away. Just watched her quietly, like he was letting her talk as long as she wanted. “And then he had the nerve to act like I was emotional. Like, no, Brian. I’m just two seconds away from flipping a table and setting you on fire.”

That made him huff out a soft laugh, just a breath, but real. “Want me to hit him?” She paused, pizza halfway to her mouth, eyes flicking up. San looked completely serious. So calm it was almost dangerous. She blinked then smirked. “That an official offer?” His mouth curved. “Limited time only.” The smile that tugged at her lips stayed longer this time. “Tempting.” Their eyes met across the table. And for the first time since she moved across the hall… she realized San wasn’t just shy. He was quiet. Intentional. The kind of man who didn’t waste words, not because he had none, but because he only gave them to people he wanted to understand him. And he was looking at her like he wanted that very badly.

They ate in easy silence for a few minutes, just the occasional clink of the metal tray, the shuffle of feet behind the counter, and the hum of neon from the buzzing “OPEN” sign in the window. It wasn’t awkward, just… simple. Comfortable. Y/N finished her first slice and leaned back in the booth, watching San tear through his like a man who’d earned it in blood. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. Her eyes drifted again, just a second too long. Across his shoulders, the way his hoodie clung when he leaned forward, sleeves pushed to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and a faded bruise near his wrist.

He looked up suddenly, catching her gaze mid glance but she didn’t look away. Instead, she tilted her head a little, lips tugging upward. “Can I ask you something?” San blinked, wiping his hand on a napkin, wary but open. “Sure.” Y/N hesitated for a second, but not because she didn’t want to ask, because she didn’t know how he’d react. “Are you and Wooyoung…… together?” The words landed softly but they hit hard. San blinked. Once. Twice. Then again, like he genuinely hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. And then he laughed. A real, low, guttural kind of laugh that made her eyebrows raise. His head dropped back for a second, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek before he looked back at her, grinning wide. “Why does everyone think that?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “I mean… you kind of give off matching tattoo, shared Spotify playlist, codependent energy.” That made him laugh harder and he shook his head, still smiling. “No. We’re not together.”

She smirked. “Ever been?”

San opened his mouth. And then, carefully, “Once. A long time ago. Didn’t stick.” She lifted a brow. “But you still live together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’ve known each other since we were seventeen. It’s just… easy.” She took a slow sip of her soda, watching him over the rim of her cup. “So… what you’re saying is, you’re single.” San met her eyes and for once, he didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, voice just a little quieter than before. “Very.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like something unsaid had just sat down at the table with them.

By the time they stepped out of the pizza place, the rain had returned, not heavy, but a lazy summer drizzle that made the asphalt shine and the air smell like earth and smoke. San clicked the lock on his old black pickup, the kind that rattled slightly when it idled but ran like a beast. He reached for the passenger door without thinking and opened it for her. Y/N glanced at him with a raised brow as she climbed in. “Chivalry? In this economy?” He gave her a half smile as he rounded the front. “It’s rare,” he agreed, “but not extinct.”

The drive was short, ten minutes, maybe. Mostly quiet, but not in a bad way. The kind of quiet where neither of them needed to fill the air with noise just to prove something. Still, at one red light, Y/N spoke. “You’re not as quiet as I thought.” San glanced over, smile creeping in. “You just haven’t caught me in the right mood before.” She arched a brow. “And today is the right mood?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave her a side glance that lingered a little too long, his voice low when it finally came. “Might be.” Y/N looked out the window, biting back a grin. When they pulled into the lot beside the apartment building, she hesitated before getting out. “Thanks for the ride,” she said as San looked at her, one hand gripping the wheel still, knuckles tight. “You wanna walk up together?” he asked. “Since we’re both headed there anyway.”

She smirked. “Trying to walk me to my door like we’re on a date?”

He smirked right back. “I’ll take the side closest to traffic. Just in case.”

They walked up the stairs slowly, lazily. Still no rush. Their steps echoing quietly in the stairwell. Y/N was close enough to brush against him once, twice, once by accident, once definitely not. Neither commented on it as they reached their hallway, the familiar soft buzz of the overhead light flickering as always And then the door to apartment 3B swung open and Wooyoung, dripping wet, fresh from the shower, stepped into the hallway in nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips, one hand scratching lazily at his chest like he didn’t even notice the world existed. His hair was slicked back, face flushed from the steam. “Oh. Thought you were Yeosang bringing me my weed.”

Y/N snorted as San sighed. Wooyoung’s eyes flicked from San to her, still walking together, still a little too close, and a devilish grin crawled across his face like he’d just found a button worth pressing. “Well hello, neighbor,” he said slowly, adjusting his towel in the least helpful way. “Didn’t know you two were out having a little date without me.” Y/N laughed because what else could you do when your hot towel clad neighbor said things like that with full eye contact?

San, on the other hand, looked like he wanted the floor to open up and eat him alive. “If you still need me to hit that coworker of yours…. Let me know.” He said only half joking before shoving a protesting Wooyoung back inside leaving Y/N to stare after them.

That offer looking more and more and inviting as each second passed.

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It was just past eight when Y/N stepped off the bus and started up the stairs to her building, heels echoing with each tired step. Her blouse was wrinkled, her tote bag heavier than usual, and she had that post work glaze in her eyes, the one you only get after surviving another day of Brian and two surprise meetings that should’ve been emails. She was halfway down the hallway when the door to 3B opened and San and Wooyoung stepped out, mid conversation. San wore black joggers and a fitted zip up jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows again, hands taped already. A few fading bruises trailed his collarbone where his tank top didn’t cover. His hair was loose and a little messy, fight night mode already dialed in.

Wooyoung? Tight black jeans, leather jacket, rings on four fingers, platinum hair tousled to perfection. Danger in cologne form. They both looked up at the same time when they saw her and Wooyoung grinned first. “Look who’s home.” Y/N slowed, giving them both a once over. “Where are you guys off to looking like you’re about to commit crimes?” San’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk as Wooyoung stepped forward. “Fight night,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “Rico’s warehouse. Underground chaos. Men bleeding for money. That kind of thing. You know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Romantic.”

“You have no idea,” he said, then leaned just a little closer. “You should come.” San glanced at him, eyes flicking sideways fast, but he said nothing as Wooyoung kept his gaze locked on her. “Seriously. You said you’ve never been to one, right? Consider this your personal invitation. You’d love it. It’s loud. Sweaty. Unhinged.“ Y/N gave a skeptical tilt of her head. “And by love it, you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll have fun,” Wooyoung grinned. “And you’ll get to see San half naked and knock a guy out with nothing but his elbow.” San exhaled, finally speaking. “He’s exaggerating.”

Wooyoung waved it off. “Barely.”

Y/N hesitated in front of her door, key in hand. Something in her buzzed a little at the thought, warehouse lights, loud music, danger in the air… and San in the ring. “What time?”

San blinked in surprise as Wooyoung smirked wider. “We’ll text you the address. Don’t wear anything you care about.”

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Brian left the office an hour after most people had clocked out. Not because he was working late. But because he was dragging his feet, stalling, probably trying to find a way to frame someone else for his fuck up on tomorrow’s deadline. The building was mostly dark now, just the glow of the exit signs and one buzzing vending machine light near the elevator. He didn’t notice the black truck parked across the street earlier. Didn’t notice the two figures slipping quietly into the side stairwell before he hit the button for the garage.

His footsteps echoed too loud in the stairwell and when he hit the bottom, pushing the heavy door open to the underground parking deck, the concrete swallowed the sound. It was cold down there. Damp. Reeking faintly of oil, rubber, and mildew. Half the lights were out, and the rest flickered just enough to be annoying as Brian yawned and muttered to himself, fumbling for his keys as he crossed the lot. He was parked in the corner next to the concrete pillar and the busted security camera no one ever fixed.

He reached his car, opened the door….

He froze. There was a sound behind him. Like a boot scuffing the pavement. Slow and deliberate. He turned quickly but there was no one. Just the shadows between cars. He squinted. “Hello?” No answer came. His hand twitched toward his phone.

“If you have to ask,” a voice called from somewhere in the dark, distorted and playful, “you already know the answer.”

Brian spun around again, keys clattering to the floor as behind one of the pillars, a figure stepped out in a Ghostface suit. Long black robe dragging across the floor, head tilted like he was confused or maybe just entertained. Brian backed up fast, slamming into the door of his car. “What the fuck?”

“Brian,” the voice said, cheerfully now. “Middle manager. Team killer. Email CCer.” The ghostface took another step. The blade in his hand gleamed in the low light. “You’ve been very busy.”

Brian scrambled for his phone again. But it was already too late. Because now there was a second one. The other ghostface moved faster, cutting across the aisle between cars in a blur, boots slapping wet pavement as the blade slashed out, sparking briefly against the metal hood of the car just inches from Brian’s face and he screamed and ran. Because they always do.

Brian’s dress shoes squeaked uselessly on the slick concrete as he tore down the row of parked cars, phone in hand, thumb shaking on the screen to call 911 but it failed. “SIRI, DIALL 911!”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat your question?”

“YOU USELESS BITCH!” Brian threw a look over his shoulder, ghostface one still followed at a walking pace, knife in hand, posture casual like this was all just a fun little cardio circuit as Brian veered around a beat up sedan, tripping over a loose parking block and slamming into the concrete wall. He gasped, turned, knife still down the row, glinting like a promise in ghostface’s hand. “Wh…. WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Brian shouted, eyes wide, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth.

The figure just stopped and tilted its head. “Want?” the voice was distorted and amused. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t get to ask questions. You filed the wrong paperwork for that.” Another voice joined in, calmer and quieter from behind. “Check your blind spot.”

Brian whipped around and ghostface two was now much closer. Too close. He screamed and scrambled to the right, slamming into a side mirror, drawing blood on his arm. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” His voice bounced off empty walls, unanswered as ghostface one was laughing now, slow and syrupy through the voice modulator. “You know what the funny thing is?” the voice mused, circling. “You’re not even special. You’re not a killer. You’re not a genius. You’re just… annoying.”

Brian was crying now, face twisted with panic. “Please…. please I… I didn’t do anything…..”

“No,” ghostface two said, quiet and still, voice deeper under the modulation. “But you were a dick to her.”

Brian blinked. “Who?” But it was too late again. Wooyoung’s blade came first, quick, across the thigh, sharp enough to make Brian collapse screaming. Not fatal. Just enough to make it fun. He tried to crawl. Tried to pull himself under the neighboring SUV. But San grabbed his ankle hard and yanked him back so fast his forehead smacked the concrete with a wet crack. He barely had time to scream before San knelt on his back, cold blade pressing to the back of his neck as Wooyoung crouched nearby, watching with one leg lazily bouncing, mask tilted. “Say hi to HR,” he said cheerfully.

And San drove the blade in. Quick and precise. Brian’s body twitched once. Twice. Then went still. San stood slowly back up, blood dripping in steady lines from the blade in his hand as Wooyoung stepped up beside him, pulling off his mask with one hand and let out a breath like he’d just come off a treadmill. “God,” he sighed. “That guy smelled like microwave soup.”

San didn’t say anything. Just wiped his blade on Brian’s sleeve, tucked it away, and started walking. “You think she’ll come tonight?” Wooyoung asked, trailing behind him.

San didn’t look back as blood poured into a pool around Brian’s dead body. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’ll come.”

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

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─..★.─────

In your relationship, things are usually the same from day to day in how you treat each other.

That is not the case in the bedroom.

Your dynamics shift everytime you have sex, and sometimes even during the middle of it. It's always a surprise.

Today, both of your boyfriends happen to be dominant; and their treatment of you from the very moment they walked in the door made you fall head first into sub-space.

When San is dominant, he likes to tease — but not to the degree with which Wooyoung does.

San is soft about it. Slow thrusts and gentle touches.

Wooyoung is a jerk about it. Works you up fast and pulls away just before you can cum — but sometimes he doesn't pull away and he practically slaps you in the face with an orgasm.

Both of them, though, not only do they work in a perfect harmony to make you drip so much arousal that you ruin whoever's sheets you happen to be on — they decide when you cum.

You must ask for permission. And if you don't, you will regret it in the most beautiful and torturous ways.

San told you not to cum again after you failed to ask for permission the first time today.

But Wooyoung persisted in being a menace. He wants you to slip up again and cum, whispering all kinds of filth in your ear as he lays behind you. One hand over your chest, holding your back against his chest as he slides the vibrator up and down on your sensitive clit.

He wants to punish you. He's had a shitty week, they both have. And he wants to be mean. But you have to give them a reason first.

You only get one mistake. You can only slip up once before punishment is deemed 'fair'.

And you try. You try so hard to keep being a good girl. But Wooyoung tilts your head and kisses you, shoves his tongue in your mouth just as he starts moving the toy in slow circles against you. You can't ask for permission if you can't talk at all.

You cum. And it feels like heaven, but you know the hell that will follow when San — who had been grinding deep and slow in your gushing pussy; stops.

He laughs, head dropping to rest on your shoulder as Wooyoung pulls back with a smirk. "Did you just do what I think you did, pretty girl?"

"I'm sorry!" The waterworks are immediate, but they don't care. You're so cute when you try to get out of trouble — but it makes them want to ruin you even more when they're like this.

"Are you stupid?" Wooyoung asks with a wild grin, eyes dark. "Huh?" He grips your chin tightly when you don't answer fast enough; even though he only gives you a split second. "Say something, dumbass. Or did you forget how to speak, and that's why you just came all over Sannies cock without permission... again?"

"I'm sorry, baby-" You yelp as he suddenly moves out from behind you and pushes you flat against the mattress, dropping the vibrator to wrap both his hands around your neck.

San has just as evil a smile as he sits up and watches, grinding into you as he does so and making you squeal. When your eyes slam shut, he reaches up and slaps you. "Keep your fucking eyes open."

"M'sor-"

"Sorry doesn't quite cut it," Wooyoung turns and faces him, his voice laced with mischief, "does it, San?"

"No, I don't think it does," he pouts, mockingly, meeting your teary gaze, "I think if our girl acts like a slut, that's exactly the way we should treat her."

"San, wait, Sannie, San-ahhh!" You scream as he picks up the toy and presses it against your clit; not caring about the fact that it makes tears slip down your cheeks. In fact — he likes it. They both do. "Mercy! Mercy, ple-"

Wooyoung chokes the words right out of your neck, spitting into your open mouth as you grab his wrists. "Shut the fuck up before I shove my dick in your throat. Won't be able to beg then, will you?"

You bite your lip with a broken groan, swallowing his spit without hardly even registering he spat in your mouth in the first place because San is now moving again — and he's not being gentle about it.

He slams his hips so hard into you that it makes your body slide up the mattress. You nearly bump your head against the wall before Wooyoung puts his hand on the top of your head quickly and cushions it. All of your noises are coming out no matter how hard you press your lips together.

Sniffling, moaning, whining, and being fucked so hard it's literally shaking your body.

San groans deeply, pulling out all too quickly and making you hiss. "Running from it, angel? Hm? Get your pretty ass over here." He yanks you to the middle of the bed before you can even think about moving on your own. "You want to cum like a slut, I'm going to fuck you like a slut. Wooyoung, get over here and hold this bitch down."

"Oh, with pleasure~"

You groan as Wooyoung sits on your stomach, facing away from you and taking control of the vibrator once again as San grips both of your thighs and slams into you. You scream out a curse, grabbing the waistband of Wooyoung's boxers tightly as they start bombarding you with pleasure that's all too intense.

"What's wrong, baby?" San's voice drips with mock empathy, "I thought you wanted to cum so bad? We're just giving you what you wanted." he slaps your thigh, rough. "Say thank you."

"Thank you, Sannie! Please! Please, slow down!" You stutter and slur as you writhe uselessly below them.

Wooyoung tuts his tongue, upping the speed of the vibrator and causing you to kick your legs in Sans grasp to no avail. "I'm the one who made you cum, you dumb cock sleeve. Should be thanking me."

They share a smirk as you immediately start thanking the both of them while simultaneously begging for mercy. Because in all of your jumbled and sniffled words, they don't hear your safe word.

They will make you use it before they quit. Pushing stupid sluts like you to their limit is the only way they learn, Wooyoung likes to say as though he isn't a million times brattier when he's subbing. But then, maybe that's how he knows.

"She's so fucking cute like this," San chuckles as you clench and flutter around his pistoning cock, "good job, Young." He leans and catches his lips in a kiss, soft in comparison to the way he beats up your cunt.

And they don't stop when you cum once again, squealing and trying to arch under Wooyoung's weight while your eyes roll back. "Ffffuck!" Is all you can say as you slump, not given a single moment to rest before they're building you up all over again.

"Three times?" Wooyoung giggles against San's lips, "our girlfriend really is a cum junkie~" He yanks at his boxers, impatiently pulling them under his cock. He's just as much as you are, is evident.

"You're s-so meaaan," you say through your heavy breaths, hands sliding around the bed to find something to grab onto. You pull the pillow you grab to your chest and bury your face in it; soaking it with your tears.

"Shut up," they say together, sharing another grin.

San let's go of one of your legs and it drops to the side, useless and trembling. He wraps his hand around Wooyoung's length, spitting on it before he starts jerking him off quickly.

"Fuck, Sannie~" He tilts his head back, pressing the toy against your clit harsher to feel you shiver below him. "You might make me cum before I even have a chance to fuck her..."

He looks down slowly and meets San's gaze, a silent idea spoken between them.

Wooyoung rolls off of you quickly, all but flopping onto his back. He fists his cock roughly; watching as San pulls out of you roughly and starts spanking your ruined cunt.

"San!" The way your body jolts with each quick, precise hit makes their cocks twitch.

He spits right onto your swollen clit, slapping it even harder than before as he moans, "look at that sloppy pussy. So wet... I bet both of us could fuck you right now."

They both laugh as you peek your eyes over the edge of the pillow that you clutch to your chest, wide and blurry with tears.

"Yeah, you heard me," San says lowly, swiping his fingers against your clit so fast that it makes sloshing noises, "this wet little cock sleeve is going to take two at once. Gonna let us slip right in~"

"Give me this," Wooyoung growls as he yanks the pillow away from you, throwing it, "you don't get to hide from us."

San lifts you up before you can even pout and drops you on top of Wooyoung, who immediately fucks right into you; knocking the air from your burning lungs. "Fuuuck, I dunno, San... This bitch is still tight even when you've been fucking her." He puts his legs over yours and spreads them wide, pinning them to the bed. His hands find your breasts, squeezing and pinching and kneading and making you wail.

"We'll just make it fit."

When San lines his tip up with your stretched hole, you shake your head quickly, "please, please, I swear I won't cum again! Be gent- ah, fuck!" And he pounds right into you, stilling balls deep with Wooyoung. You convulse between them, another orgasm breaking over you and making you sob breathlessly.

"Shhh," you hardly hear Wooyoung as he coos into your ear, kissing at it softly, "there you go~" He slides his hand down your torso before landing on your lower stomach and pressing down, making you all moan. "Mmh~ This is how a cock sleeve should be treated, yeah? All stretched out- fuck-" He curses as you clench around them, causing San to grip your waist tightly. "Fuck, fuck," he whines a bit, thrusting into you with a merciless and hurried pace, "fuck her with me, Sannie. I want to feel her cum around us, she gets so tight~"

San complies, immediately; fucking you in tandem with him, moaning and groaning as he buries his face in your neck. Every time he nips at your heated flesh, he earns himself a whimper from you. And Wooyoung biting at your ear lobe gets just the same.

"One more," he whispers into your neck, kissing up slowly, "one more, let us feel it. Be a good girl. Give our Wooyoungie what he wants~" He tilts his head as he observes your tear streaked face before leaning forward and licking a fat strip up your cheek; making you slap at his shoulders.

"God, yes!" He yells, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly as San holds it. "Better cum for me, you fucker," he bites your neck, harder than San ever does. He licks the angry skin before he says again, "you'll cream on our cocks if you know what's good for you, slut. I'll stick it in your ass if you don't give me what I want, you know I will, angel."

"I c-can't!" You whimper, holding Sans shoulders tightly.

Everytime Wooyoung fucks up into you, San fucks you right back down. You can hardly breathe. Just when you're about to use your safe word, catching your breath to do so, Wooyoung slips a hand down your stomach softly and grazes his finger tips over your clit.

"Like hell you can't," you can't hear a word he's saying as he pinches your clit — and even though he does it semi-gently, because he knows how ruined you are, it makes you scream. "You're going to cum like the slut you are or I really am going to fuck your pretty little ass."

He almost hopes you don't; but of course you do. How can you not? Both of them stretching and prodding every inch of your insides, Wooyoung pinching your clit, San kissing and licking up your tears.

Your legs tremble under his, your hips jolting in between them, your jaw dropped in a silent scream that's more of a shattered gasp than anything else as you squirt all over them.

San cums first, and the warmth of it flooding your abused walls makes Wooyoung follow.

San holds himself up on slightly shaky arms, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against yours. Wooyoung moves to keep going when they both catch you whimpering out quickly, "tap out."

San opens his eyes quickly, meeting your gaze with a smile, "good girl~" And he kisses you gently, pecks your lips repeatedly. "You're so amazing, angel, you can take so much~"

Wooyoung wraps his arms back around your waist, hugging you gently as he slowly moves his legs off of yours. "Take your punishments so well- doesn't she, Sannie?" He hums contentedly as he nuzzles your shoulder from behind.

"So well~" He agrees, very slowly pulling out and shushing you softly as you whine. "Shhh, it's okay, I know... We were so rough with our pretty girl," he sits back, lifting your hips softly to help Wooyoung slide out of you. "But we're done now, promise."

You hardly have the wits about you to stutter out a softly spoken 'thank you'.

Their cum drips out of you slowly and puddles on Wooyoung's pelvis, making you shiver and melt further into his hold.

"You got her, Young?" San asks as he places a kiss to your quivering thigh.

"Mhm," he hums softly, tracing on your ribs softly, "I've got our perfect girl, but don't be too long. You want to cuddle, don't you, baby?"

It takes you a second to realize he's talking to you, and you nod at San quickly, "yeah, hurry, please."

"I'll be quick," he smiles, leaning over and placing another kiss on your lips before he slides off the bed and hurries to the bathroom.

Wooyoung holds you close to his chest, still rubbing his head against your shoulder softly like a pleased house cat. "You're such a good girl for us, you know that? Our perfect girl~"

You moan softly, lifting your shaky arms to rest over his. "You aren't mad?" You know they aren't, but you still want to make extra sure. You feel so light headed and vulnerable; and he eases all of your worries before they can fester.

"Why would we be mad? Of course not, angel. We like it when we make you tap out~"

"Hm," you giggle, whispering, "freaks."

"What's that, baby? You dooo want me to put it in your ass?" He teases you right back, kissing your shoulder as you laugh breathlessly.

San comes back, climbing back between your legs with a soft grin, "feeling good, sweetheart?" He gently cleans up your sore cunt as you nod with a dopey smile.

"Always perfect with you two."

san is still half-buzzing, knuckles split and chest rising too fast, eyes blown wide like he's still in the ring. wooyoung's leaning against the wall of the van with a shit-eating grin, counting bills like he didn't just tell san to take a few hits so he could rig the odds.

san wipes a streak of blood from his lip with his thumb, glancing between you and wooyoung. "you almost fucked me over," he growls.

wooyoung laughs. "please. you were never going to lose. you're too wrapped up in showing off for our girl."

san's hands hit your hips hard enough to make you gasp, dragging you onto his lap with ease. "c'mere," he mutters, voice low. "been dying to touch you."

you can feel the body heat seeping through his clothes. his fingers squeeze your ass, and you barely settle on his thighs before he's grinding you down against the bulge in his sweats, breath shaking against your throat.

"sannie-" you whisper, but he interrupts you with a kiss, tasting like copper and mint and sweat. wooyoung whistles. "look at my little trophy. knew you'd calm him down better than any medic."

san snarls, teeth scraping your neck. "don't call her that."

"why not?" wooyoung pushes off the wall, sauntering closer to lean down beside san's ear. "she climbs into your lap after every fight. sits on your cock like a prize, screaming your name like you won the heavyweight title. sounds like a trophy to me."

your face burns, thighs clenching around san's hips. san's grip tightens around you, "she's not-"

"sannie," wooyoung interrupts softly, smug smirk plastered on his face, "i meant it as a compliment."

"yeah?" san murmurs. "then watch how i handle what's mine."

his hand slides between your legs, palming you over your underwear, pushing the damp fabric in so he can feel everything. "fuck-! sannie-" you whine, hips jerking helplessly against the pressure.

"quiet," san warns, voice shaking with how much he wants you. "been wanting to do this since the second round."

wooyoung's watching intently, arms crossed, eyes glittering. "don't tease too long. if you fuck her dumb, i'm gonna have to carry you both home."

san ignores him, tugging your panties to the side, fingertips sliding through your slick folds. "always so wet after a fight," he murmurs, kissing you again. "makes me think you like watching me bleed."

wooyoung hums. "she does. saw the way she was squeezing her thighs when you almost got knocked down."

san groans, bucking up into you. "fuck, baby. that true?"

you nod, prompting san to grab your jaw, making you look at him. "say it."

"i.. i like watching you fight. it gets me.." you swallow, "gets me worked up."

"knew it," wooyoung laughs, delighted.

san drags you forward, lining you up with his thigh, the thick muscle pressing perectly between your legs. he grinds you down on it, one hand locked on your waist, forcing your movement.

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. "s-san- ah-!"

"ride it," he orders, voice velvetly. "show us what you look like when you can't think straight."

wooyoung sits next to you, fingers brushing your cheek before trailing lower. "look at you," he murmurs. "such a pretty prize. bouncing on his thigh like you were made for it.."

san groans like the words go straight to his cock. "fuck- keep talking like that-"

"only truth, sannie." wooyoung smirks. "our baby looks good getting used wherever you put her."

san's hand jerks, his thigh flexing beneath you to give you more friction. you shudder, grinding helplessly, your cunt dragging across the fabric of his pants.

"you close?" san breathes against your ear. "already? just from this?"

"s-sorry-"

"don't apologize," wooyoung cuts in, fingers slipping into your hair. "cum for him. that's your job."

your hips stutter, thighs trembling around san's. he holds you tighter, forehead pressed to your shoulder as you tip over the edge, soaking his sweats.

"good," san groans, rutting up against you. "fuck, that's so good- do it again."

you whine at the praise as san kisses you hard, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. "gonna fuck you in the back of this van," san whispers, already pushing his pants down. "wooyoung, keep her mouth busy."

wooyoung grins wickedly, sliding his thumb across your lips. "with pleasure."

san drags you down onto him, fucking up into you as each thrust knocks a sound out of you, wooyoung catching your mouth with his before anyone outside can hear.

"quiet," wooyoung murmurs against your lips, kissing you deeply. "be good for us."

you barely get a breath before his tongue is in your mouth, your hands gripping san's shoulders as he splits you open from below.

"look at me," wooyoung commands softly. "let him use you.. but you look at me while he does."

san growls at that, hips snapping up harder, the sound of skin hitting skin mixing with his sharp breathes and your muffled whimpers.

wooyoung watches your lips part, swollen from kissing, "open your mouth, baby."

you obey, letting him slide two fingers in, pressing down on your tongue. "get them nice and wet for me."

san's thrusts get rougher the second he sees your lips stretched around wooyoung's fingers, spit dripping down your chin. he holds your hips still so he can pound up into you, using your body like a toy.

"fuck-" san grits out, head falling back. "she's so tight- fuck, wooyoung, look-"

"oh, i'm looking," wooyoung murmurs, eyes darkening as you suck on his fingers. "good girl, that's enough."

he pulls his fingers out, strings of saliva connecting them to your lips, and brings them straight down between your legs. san's cock is already working your soaked pussy open as wooyoung finds your clit, rubbing tight circles, slicking you up with your own spit.

your whole body jerks, pulling a moan from san's throat. "do that again- fuck, do that again-"

wooyoung smirks, leaning back in, kissing you while his fingers work your clit faster. "don't worry, fighter. i've got her."

san thrusts harder, your back hitting the wall with every snap of his hips. he grabs your ass with both hands, forcing you down onto him. "mine," he growls into your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. "my trophy. look how pretty she is for me-"

wooyoung hums approvingly. "yeah, she is. she always looks good getting fucked stupid in your lap."

wooyoung doesn't stop touching you, rubbing your clit faster, making your vision go white. "wish you could see yourself," he whispers against your cheek. "the way your pussy's dripping down his cock.. fuck, no wonder he can't think straight."

wooyoung's free hand slides into his own pants, his jaw tight as his eyes stay glued to where san is driving into you. he catches your eye, smirking as he continues the movements under his waistband.

"what?" he murmurs. "you thought i wasn't gonna touch myself watching you take his cock like that?"

san's head snaps up, pupils blown wide. "fuck- wooyoung, don't stop-"

"i wasn't planning to," wooyoung breathes, stroking himself harder while rubbing your faster. "not until she cums all over you."

san thrusts up so hard, pulling you into a kiss to swallow your cries. "cum," san gasps, forehead pressing to yours. "please, baby- cum for me- need it.. need to feel you-"

"yeah, sweetheart," wooyoung adds, voice ragged as his thumb flicks your clit. "give it to him. make him lose his fucking mind."

you break, your orgasm overwhelming you as it tears through you. your thighs clamp around san's hips, your voice swallowed by wooyoung as he pulls you into another kiss.

san slams up into you a few times before his head falls into your shoulder, spilling into you in hot pulses. wooyoung's breath catches, hips bucking into his fist as he watches san fill you.

"fuck-" wooyoung groans, stroking faster, "that's it- stay just like that- let me see it-"

he finishes against his own stomach with a shudder, eyes locked on the sight of you shaking in san's lap, stuffed full and panting.

san rests his forehead against your chest as wooyoung wipes a bit of sweat from your cheek, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "mm," he hums, satisfied. "told you."

you blink at him, dazed. "told me what?"

“I’m surprised, (y/n). It’s been how long since that day? You’re usually quick to move on,” Wooyoung said with a smile on his lips, pouring hot water into his mug.

“Woo,” you whined, leaning your upper body over the kitchen island, inhaling the fresh scent of instant coffee wafting from Wooyoung’s direction. “You should’ve seen him. I mean, how many men have you seen rock pink hair, let alone a buzzcut?”

“Have you seen Park Seonghwa?”

“Who?”

“Shame. You know Hongjoong? Anyang Group’s boss?”

“Ah, Seonghwa as in that Hongjoong’s sidepiece?” Wooyoung nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Mm,” you mirrored the movement in agreement, lips curling, “wouldn’t mind seeing more of him.”

“Damn right,” he laughed.

He brushed away the image of a slender frame and plush lips to redirect back to your conversation. “You seriously want this?”

“Can you do it?” Tilting your head sideways, you peered at the man before you with wide, hopeful eyes.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot upwards, and he walked around the island to where you were sat on a stool, placing his mug down to cup your nape, his voice raspy as he spoke, “you know better than to ask me that, darling.”

You smiled, snaking your arms underneath Wooyoung’s baggy shirt and around his waist, pulling him closer to press tender kisses over the line of his jaw, moving up to his lips while he leaned down until you were at eye-level and giving him a firm kiss.

Pearly whites peeked at Wooyoung, “then I really want this.”

“And you’ll get it,” he moved your head towards his with the hand at your nape, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kissed you until you ran out of breath, pulling away with a kitten lick to your upper lip.

Fingers scratched lightly at the back of your head, Wooyoung leaning closer once again, this time nuzzling your temples, taking in the scent of your shampoo before exhaling contently. “But,” he started, moving back until he could meet your eyes, “what about San?”

“What about him?” You feigned ignorance.

The corner of Wooyoung’s lips tugged upwards at your darting gaze. “You know how he gets. I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled watching you devour another man.”

You pouted, arms retreating from Wooyoung’s waist to cross at your chest. “He can deal with it.”

Wooyoung chuckled, moving to kiss you again, frowning when you stopped him with a hand to his chest. You spoke before he could question the movement,

“What about you? Or do you not get jealous”

His frown melted away, expression softening as you avoided his gaze, hands immediately seeking yours to guide them over his shoulders. “My love,” he peppered kisses over your cheek. “You know well how I treat bastards who dare touch what’s mine,” he craned his neck to follow your gaze, until his dark irises met yours.  “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

You nodded, flashes of gore and spattered red rushed through your mind and your heart warmed at the memory of his dedication, but you weren’t convinced. “Then why—”

Wooyoung interrupted, “but, my darling, since when have you known me to turn down any of your requests?” Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pressed your foreheads together. “While our precious Sannie might want to keep you all for himself, I certainly wouldn’t mind watching you use another man to satisfy a craving,” he moved to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, “especially if he’s as hot as you described.”

You heard San’s ringtone go off, followed by a short exchange of words before his voice echoed through the suite, “jagi, Youngie’s on his way.”

San’s socked feet padded over the carpet when you didn’t reply, stopping at the bathroom doorway to admire your form, leaning over the sink while blinking into your mascara wand. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you move back to examine the drying coat of black for a second before using the tip of the wand to brush over the outer corners of your lashes.

You dropped the tube into your makeup bag and zipped it shut. Meeting San’s gaze through the mirror, you smiled—almost shyly—while smoothing down your dress, its hem resting just below your behind.

“Who are you all dressed up for?” San teased, eyes flitting down to the burgundy colouring your lips.

You turned to face him, smile still stretching your lips as you leaned back against the counter behind you. “Woo said he had a surprise for me before your match tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer, “a surprise? He didn’t mention anything to me.”

You simply shrugged, hoping he’d let it go before the excitement in your eyes betrayed you.

“Ah, I forgot to wash this for you last night,” you shifted the subject, hooking a finger under the hem of San’s singlet, the drops of dried blood staining the collar a memoir of his victory a couple nights ago.

The suspicion in San’s gaze faded, replaced with fondness. His hands reached for yours, balling them in his palms and bringing them to his lips. He pressed a kiss on each of your knuckles, “my perfect girl.”

You frowned; eyes fixed on the flaking blood smirching the white.

San breathed out a laugh, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “I’m serious, my love. It’s okay. It’s gonna get dirty again anyway.”

Seemingly unconvinced, San took your chin between his thumb and pointer and tilted your head upwards. He muttered a breathy “jagi” before his lips crashed over yours—desperate, hungry, wanting. Hands roamed up and down your sides, squeezing at your waist and ass and pulling you impossibly closer to his body. You felt dizzy, arms wrapped around San’s waist and palms splayed over the toned muscle of his back. His breath was hot as it blew over your skin, tongue moving with yours and spit melting the burgundy off your lips.

San’s ringtone sounded in the other room just as strong arms lifted you onto the counter, a disgruntled groan vibrating over your lips before he pulled away to answer, planting a quick peck on your mouth before scurrying out the bathroom.

Giggling to yourself, you slid off the marble to fix the makeup San kissed off you, wiping the product that bled past your lip-line before sliding the applicator over the slightly stained skin.

San showed up at the door once again, hopping on one foot while squeezing the other into his sneakers. “C’mon baby, Youngie’s waiting for us down the street.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you packed your makeup. “Why not pick us up from here?”

“Fuck if I know,” San sighed, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing his keycard.

The elevator ride was tense, the other passengers averting their gaze upon noticing San’s unabashed groping, a blank expression on both your faces while his hand disappeared under the back of your dress. You elbowed him when the landing doors opened at ground level, finally letting out an airy laugh as the other guests scurried out with hung heads, a cocky smirk forming on San’s lips.

‘Down the street’ was a much longer walk than originally anticipated, San’s grumbling indictive of his irritation, and yet his hold on your hand remained gentle, fingers tangled with yours and squeezing softly with every few steps he took.

After what felt like hours, you took a sharp left into a dark alleyway—tall buildings on either side blocking the sunlight—vivid graffiti overlapping on the damp walls, mould forming where they met the cracked pavement. The familiar white van appeared as you turned the corner, newly painted to refresh the previously peeling lettering, though the various dents in the metal remained.

Wooyoung stood leaning back against the van with a lit cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. The lit edge burned bright orange as he sucked in a breath, pushing off the cold metal to face the two of you.

“Why’d you fucking make us walk so far?” San spat, swinging his arms outwards for emphasis.

Lidded eyes met yours from a few feet away, and you attempted to maintain the faux irritation furrowing your eyebrows.

“Relax, I didn’t want anyone seeing our special guest,” he smirked, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Even if he came here voluntarily."

San looked as heated as he was confused, “the fuck are you talking about?”

Sensing another series of string of curses coming his way, Wooyoung put his hand up to stop him. “Calm down, kitten. Here, see for yourself.”

He exhaled a final cloud of smoke, dropping the expended tobacco onto the pavement and crushing it with the toe of his boot. He stepped towards the van again, pulling the back handles until the double doors swung open. Faded pink hair peeked at you from the back corner of the small space, longer and less vibrant than you remembered, though his defined features were just as captivating; though, you’d argue the full lips looked far more alluring spread apart by the rag Wooyoung had gagged him with.

Your gaze lowered, checking him out while he sat there, staring back with his wrists tied behind his back. You wondered whether Wooyoung had surprised him while getting ready, eying the top three undone buttons of his white shirt, and those missing from his open vest.

A snicker sounded behind you, “sorry, darling, I couldn’t help but inspect the goods while waiting.”

Your shared laughter snapped San out of his trance, turning to face Wooyoung. “Isn’t this the security guard from the last museum? Wooyoung, what the fuck is this?”

Wooyoung’s calm demeanour only seemed to irritate San further, as did the dry chuckle he gave towards his alarm. “Seems like distracting the dog wasn’t enough for our pretty (y/n), she wanted to take him on a walk.”

San’s eyes widened, his head snapping to your direction only to find the space you’d occupied beside him empty.

Your knees dug into the mattress laid on the floor of the van, the used, stained fabric holding the round indent you’d left behind for a few seconds before returning to its original shape. Crawling towards your target, you realised just how much the pink had faded since you last saw him, roots retouched but his grown-out locks closer to being blonde now. He didn’t seem afraid or confused—and you’d thought Wooyoung was only trying to enrage San by hinting Mingi wanted this encounter to occur. The doe eyes that checked you out in the museum were instead replaced by a sharp gaze drowned in an unknown emotion, something sultry, dangerous. But despite the thoughts churning in Mingi’s mind, the fact remained that he was helpless in his current predicament, tied up and unable to touch the woman he so desperately wanted, the threatening presence of her two partners lingering only a few feet away.

Wooyoung watched you closely, both his and San’s eyes shifting to the exposed, pretty black lace of your panties as you crawled towards the bound man. He could sense San’s jealousy simmering beside him, his eyebrows in a deep furrow and fists clenched at his side.

“Want me to untie him?” Wooyoung poked his tongue out between his teeth as a failed attempt to hide his growing grin, awaiting San’s beratement.

Though, your voice stopped the unkind words at the tip of his tongue.

“Uh-uh,” you turned down his offer, settling on your knees, “no need.”

Turning to face the two men still outside the van, you extended a hand towards San, smiling as the crease between his eyebrows softened and he scurried towards you. Grabbing your reaching hand, he led the open palm up to his mouth and pressed five kisses onto the soft skin, inhaling deeply with each one. You smiled, waiting until he’s had his fill before leading him closer. San’s arms wrapped around your waist, his body attaching to yours like it was second nature: front flush with your back, his face buried into the side of your neck until he could smell nothing but your scent, and a faint hint of your shampoo.

You felt the van dip slightly as Wooyoung climbed into the driver’s seat, the engine sputtering before coming alive. You craned your neck to the side to meet San’s eyes, smile dripping with mischief as you spoke, “just want him to watch for now.”

—

San almost couldn’t keep up, his knees digging into the mattress to keep himself steady, arms around your waist keeping you both upright as you threw yourself onto him, lips hungry and desperate as though you’d been craving his taste for days. Teeth clashed against each other, content hums and breathy moans vibrating in the air between you, your hands squeezing at the exposed muscle of his biceps, moving over his chest and down his abdomen.

Moving a few inches back, you dragged the white tank over San’s head and threw it to the side. “C’mon, Sannie,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, hooking your fingers into his waist belt to tug him closer, “don’t you wanna show our guest how good you can be for me?”

Fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, pulling roughly until your neck craned backwards. San’s voice had a rasp to it, dripping with lust he desperately tried to conceal, “don’t push it.”

The corner of your mouth curled, “that’s not being good,” a choked scoff blowing against San’s face, “maybe Mingi here can do better?”

You twisted your head sideways despite the resistance, meeting Mingi’s wide eyes for merely a second before your gaze was forced forwards once again.

“(Y/n),” his tone dripped with warning.

You swiped a finger over San’s bottom lip, protruding yours slightly to egg him on further. “Sannie,” you purred, smiling at the faint flutter of his lashes upon hearing the pleasant sound. “C’mon, baby, show Mingi how good you make me feel.”

Your eyes locked on Wooyoung’s through the rearview mirror while San manhandled you onto his lap, perhaps a little too calm as his gaze travelled over your bare skin and the thin sheet of sweat reflecting the sunlight peeking through the windshield. Your dress tossed somewhere behind you, back stuck to San’s chest and your legs hooked over his thighs, you could feel a flush creeping up your chest upon noticing your position—sat in San’s lap, spread open and bare while Mingi’s eyes roamed over the expanse of smooth skin.

Two fingers circled your clit, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden touch, exhaling a content sigh when he didn’t waste time sliding them past your pulsing hole. San leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into the junction of your neck as he pumped his fingers slowly.

Sensing the unusual warmth of your skin, a smile stretched his lips. “Oh darling, isn’t it a bit too late to be feeling shy?”

“Shut up,” you moaned, tilting your head to the side to make room for San’s peppered kisses.

Your cunt squelched with every thrust, and you kept your eyes trained on Mingi while it spat slick around San’s fingers. He curled them into your sweet spot, soft ‘ah’s leaving your parted lips as pleasure soared through your body, eyes lidded and head lolling to the side, San’s fingers fucking you open and simultaneously dragging you towards the edge of your release.

“San, Sannie, right there, baby—hnngh, yeah,” his name dripping like honey off your lips.

You grabbed onto his wrist, tight yet not restraining his ministrations, your back arching off his abdomen when his free hand slapped your clit.

“So close already?” San teased into your ear, though his eyes were sharp and contemptuous upon meeting Mingi’s over your shoulder. “I see the audience has got you all worked up.”

His palm landed onto your clit again, and again, content watching your hips jump then fall back onto his lap with each slap.

“Sannie, please,” you panted, hips rolling towards his hands as he played with your cunt, nearly crying out when he pinched your clit between his thumb and pointer, vision blurring when you finally came.

San’s fingers continued pressing your g-spot, languidly to extend your orgasm, his other hand cupping your inner thigh and taking in the tremors shaking your form. His lips found their way back to your neck—blossoming bruises of red and blue scattered over the delicate skin—while his eyes remained on Mingi, as though an unspoken challenge was being communicated between the two men.

Slipping his fingers out from between your clenching walls, San readjusted your position on his lap, moving you sideways so your legs dangled off one of his thighs, an arm around your back holding you upright with your head resting on his shoulder. Mingi watched silently as San leaned down to press a delicate kiss to your lips, checking up on you through whispered questions while massaging the tired muscles of your thighs. It was like he was non-existent, merely a prop in the small bubble enveloping the two of you.

It wasn’t until your tired eyes met his that the bubble popped, and Mingi snapped out of his thoughts. You sat up, your gaze suddenly alert and glimmering with hints of mischief, beginning to crawl towards the man merely a few feet away after San had begrudgingly let you go.

With just a few inches separating your faces, you pulled the wet rag between his lips down to hang around his neck, “did you enjoy that?”

Mingi began nodding before you could finish the question, “yes,” he cleared his throat, the rasp in his voice sending a wave of heat down to your core, and San could see your pussy clench from where he was sat behind you.

“Mm,” you hummed, “I could tell.”

You smiled, tilting your head down to drag your attention to Mingi’s crotch, his cock hard and straining against the constraints of his dress pants. You brushed your fingertips over his zipper, smiling wider at the displeased groan sounding behind you, looking back up at Mingi when a chocked moan left his full lips, a thick gulp following it.

He rested his head against the back of the driver’s seat, taking you in wordlessly through hooded eyes, watching as you reached between your legs to swipe your fingers through your sopping cunt only to bring them back to hover in front of Mingi’s face.

“Be a good boy,” you whispered, and pushed your fingers past his plush lips.

Mingi didn’t need to be told twice, taking them like a starved man and moaning unabashedly as your slick met his tastebuds, rolling his tongue around the digits and sucking them deeper into his mouth. You felt yourself getting wetter, squeezing your thighs together while running your fingers down Mingi’s tongue until he gagged. His whine when you slid them out nearly made you cum, his head moving to chase your retreating fingers, your lingering taste alone driving him halfway to madness.

So, you brought them back, this time hovering around and over his lips despite his attempts to take them inside his mouth. Brushing your thumb through the spit soaking his lips, you shoved it past them to hook behind his bottom teeth, tugging his head forward and removing your hand just before your lips crashed. It was sloppy, way too much teeth and saliva and tongue, and yet your pussy ached, skin buzzing and your need growing the longer your mouth moved against Mingi’s. Lust guided you, your fingers squeezing around Mingi’s cock through his pants while your tongue ran across his teeth, the raspy moans reverberating against your skin fanning the fire burning within your core.

Warmth spread against your back, San’s body covering yours and his hand closing around your chin to pull you off Mingi, pausing to take in the gloss covering both your lips before his irritation grew once again, “don’t slobber on another man’s face when I’m the one fucking you.”

You visibly shuddered at his words, arching back against his torso and leaning forward to catch his lips, barely brushing against then when Mingi’s voice startled you away,

“You’re cruel, miss,” he mumbled, as though talking to himself, yet his eyes fixed on your flushed face. Noting your confusion—and San’s glare—he continued, “I called that number so many times,” he breathed deeply between each of the last three words, his voice dropping at octave as he mumbled the rest of his sentence “’kept wondering whether you tasted as sweet as you smelled.”

San felt the shiver shaking your body, and your pussy getting wetter against his cock where it lay slotted between your legs. He was so occupied with this sultry exchange he didn’t notice the engine’s silence until the doors behind him swung open. A quick peak over his shoulder calmed his reflexes, arms relaxing around your waist as Wooyoung crawled towards him.

Just as he turned his attention back to the pink-haired man admiring you with heart eyes and a tongue heavy with honey-laced words, the string of curses nearly leaving San’s mouth got interrupted,

“Oh come on, Sannie, loosen up a little,” Wooyoung ribbed, dragging his fingertips up San’s spine. “Our friend Mingi here was so excited when he heard (y/n) wanted to see him.”

“Youngie, stay out of this,” San growled, feline eyes narrowing in warning.

Scoffing, Wooyoung left San’s side with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder and a whispered “suit yourself,” moving towards your guest. You both sat back and watched as Wooyoung grabbed Mingi’s defined jaw and smashed their lips together. It was almost like watching your prior kiss from a new perspective—Wooyoung was clearly leading, sucking the plush of Mingi’s lips into his own, digging his tongue into his mouth to seek out more of him, and sneaking his hand lower to palm over his cock. His touch was rough, rendering Mingi unable to do anything but groan against Wooyoung’s mouth, the gravelly sound travelling right to your core.

“More,” he recited, tugging against the restraints at the small of his back while simultaneously fucking up into Wooyoung’s palm. All the while, Wooyoung’s kisses remained relentless, teeth digging into Mingi’s bottom lip and tongue roaming within his mouth, wanting nothing but to manhandle the taller man and take him however he wanted. He held back, though, your excitement in the back of his mind while he enjoyed what he could have.

San was starstruck, his irritation with Mingi long since fizzled away, wholly incapable of moving his eyes off the scene before him, so turned on he imagined a fire would burn less than the heat spreading under his skin.

He hissed as your fingers wrapped around his length, bringing him back to the present and aligning him with your entrance, a nonvocal appeal in the lookback you’d given him. So he slid inside you with a muttered curse, throwing his head back as your heat engulfed him, pleasure soaring through his body at the tight squeeze of his throbbing cock between your walls.

You felt so full, satiated with San finally inside you. Lowering yourself onto your elbows, you allowed your head to hang limp while San thrusted experimentally, jolting you forward with an airy ‘ah’ leaving your lips.

Wooyoung finally parted from Mingi’s now-swollen mouth, glancing behind him at the sound and missing how the other man had leaned in for more. Pretending as though he hadn’t shaken Mingi’s world and possibly given him a sexuality crisis, Wooyoung moved his attention to you and San. He watched shamelessly as San’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing and pulling until you sat upright on your knees, tits jumping and lips parting as ecstasy blurred your vision. He was so deep, so heavy where he sat within you, sheathing his full length inside your cunt before pulling out once again.

Following the minute shifts in your expression—brows furrowing then relaxing, lips parted and spit pooling at the reddened corners, your lashes fluttering each time San drove his cock into you—Wooyoung couldn’t stand still any longer. His lips were on yours before you could even register him moving, fingers tangling with the hair at the back of your head to push your faces impossibly closer. He inhaled deeply where his nose dug into your cheek, pulling away slightly only to press wet kisses onto your mouth, allowing you to breathe while he continued satisfying his hunger.

Mingi gulped, also sat up on his knees now and staring directly at San. And as much as San attempted to look away, to focus on his partners making out in front of him, he couldn’t take his eyes off the other man’s lips—somehow fuller than ever, red and slightly chapped from Wooyoung’s relentless nips. Walking a step forward on his knees, Mingi now sat a few inches away from San’s face, and he took the opportunity to lean even closer, frowning when San flinched backwards on instinct.

Noticing the exchange in his peripheral, Wooyoung untangled a hand from your hair to wrap around San’s head and push him forward, successfully ending his resistance when his lips touched Mingi’s.

San could taste you both on Mingi’s lips, nearly shying away them as the other man towered over him, acting as though he’d wanted to put San in this position ever since he’d gotten in this van. Spit-soaked teeth closed around his bottom lip, dragging it with them as Mingi pulled away, only to move back in for more.

You could feel San throbbing inside you, his thrusts sloppy and desperate, losing his rhythm while Mingi was on him. They sounded downright sinful, and one look over your shoulder clamped your pussy down around San, a throaty moan vibrating over Mingi’s lips.

Wooyoung left you with a tender kiss, sneaking around the tangled bodies to reach San’s posterior and bending forward to graze his lips against the shell of his ear, jolting him away from Mingi.

“Seems like our dear Sannie is finally enjoying himself,” he sneered, running his pointer over San’s pert hole and smiling wider at his startled gasp.

Drowning out the conversation behind you, your eyes fell on the tent in Mingi’s pants. You peeled San’s limp fingers from your throat and bent at your waist, placing your palms on his thick thighs to push him into a seated position. It didn’t take long to free his cock from its constraints, Mingi’s eyes wide and wanting, leaning his body back on his elbows, wrists violently tugging against the cloth around them until Wooyoung’s dark glare over San’s shoulder ceased his attempts.

You pumped his length once, taking in Mingi’s rough groan while in awe at the sheer amount of precum coating his reddened skin. You paused before taking him in your mouth, squeezing your fist around the tip and forcing Mingi’s eyes to roll back momentarily, though your head hung low and an elongated moan dragged off your tongue as San adjusted his angle, fucking up into your g-spot until splotches of white spread across your vision.

“Fuck, Sannie— So good,” you tilted your head back, lips parted as another moan slipped past them.

Mingi’s cock jumped in your hold, and you didn’t waste time lurching forward to suck the tip into your mouth. The tang overwhelming your tastebuds goaded you to take him further, flattening your tongue against the underside of his length and lowering yourself until his cockhead nudged your uvula.

“Fuuuck,” Mingi moaned on an exhale, his hips moving upwards in light thrusts to meet your mouth halfway, eyes fluttering shut each time he bottomed out within your tight channel.

You felt lightheaded, Mingi’s taste on your tongue and the deep baritone of his voice driving you to take him further inside. You could barely breathe, the backs of your thighs on fire, San’s slamming against your skin as he fucked into you like a crazed man, pushing you forward until Mingi’s cock bumped the back of your throat.  Tears blurred your vision, gagging around his length before pulling off to rest your head over his quivering thigh, but San remained relentless, pumping his cock inside you until your moans went quiet, your mouth open helplessly while burning pleasure overtook your senses.

It took you a few seconds to regain your breath, and you were sucking Mingi’s cock back into your mouth before he could even check up on you. He fought against his restrains, wanting nothing but to tangle his ringed fingers through your hair, to guide your head over the length of his cock until your spit ran down the sides.

“You can do better,” Wooyoung’s voice startled San away from his thoughts, noticing his hand going limp around Wooyoung’s cock. “Look at our pretty girl taking the both of you so well,” he compared teasingly, curling his fingers inside San while he spoke.

“Youngie, ah—fuck, ‘want a turn?” San asked, ignoring the provocation in Wooyoung’s tone and squeezing around his leaking tip.

“Mm,” he hummed into his ear, leaning some of his weight on San’s side and planting a kiss over his shoulder, “fill ‘er up for me,” another kiss on the back of his neck, “I’ll have my fun with you later.”

The purposely harsh thrust Wooyoung gave prodded right at San’s prostate, his cock jumping inside you at the stimulation and his mind going hazy.

“Fuck me, ‘m gonna cum,” San panted, squeezing around the other man while he jerked him off before letting go, instead reaching back to grab his wrist to stop his fingers from driving him off the edge.

“Ah, Sannie, feels so good,” you mumbled while kissing over Mingi’s cockhead, digging the tip of your tongue into the slit to watch his eyes roll back.

You clamped down around San when Mingi spoke suddenly, “please, please, please, miss, oh god—I’m so close,” his head hung sideways to rest over his shoulder as he watched you swallow his cock through lidded eyes.

Your pussy squelched loudly around San, slick running down the inside of your thighs, and jealousy panged painfully within his chest as he watched you deepthroat the man sat in front of him. He let go of Wooyoung, bowing forward to wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull your body towards him, Mingi’s cock slipping out of your mouth with a whine and falling heavily against his lower belly.

“San, what—”

“Don’t you even think about coming in her mouth,” San interrupted to address Mingi, balancing on one hand with the other tucking you closely against his chest. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

Yet.

The word alone made precum drip down Mingi’s cock, his voice a higher pitch as he whined disgracefully, “please, ‘wanna cum so bad,” he thrust his hips in the air involuntarily.

San paused inside you, as though contemplating for a few seconds before his hips stuttered and regained their previous pace, your hand flying to wrap around San’s hand where it dug into the mattress. And just when you’d thought the pleasure had completely dumbed you out, San slowly withdrew the arm around you and waited until you settled onto your elbows, pressing his lips to your crown before shifting his attention back to Mingi.

Wordlessly, he reached towards him and wrapped his fingers around his cock, Mingi’s sharp hiss sounding in the stuffy van as San began getting him off.

“Go on then, cum.”

Despite the animosity in his tone, you could feel San grow thicker inside you, stretching your cunt out even further. Squeezing San’s free hand, you laid your top half on the mattress and waited until Mingi absentmindedly scooted closer, resting your head on his thigh to watch San’s fist pumping his girth. San’s pace slowed while he focused on the cock in his hand, and you couldn’t complain, Mingi’s rasp in your ear and his thighs shaking underneath you, thick ropes of cum spurting from his angry tip and splattering onto the side of your face.

San waited until he’d drained Mingi completely before letting him go, his eyebrows raising when your hand took his place, squeezing around his base to hear him hiss in sensitivity. But you kept going, lifting your head and squeezing his wet cock until he began spasming, the overstimulation stretching his vocal cords until he sounded thoroughly pathetic. He panted like a dog even after you’d let him go, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he’d act when pussydrunk—your hole dripping with his load, his airy begging echoing in your ear while you slid down on him yet again, fucking yourself full of his softening cock.

An abrupt change in position paused your forming fantasy, eyes fixing on the van’s roof before San slipped into your field of vision, dimpled cheeks and warm smile lighting a gentle fire in your chest.

“Where were we?” He whispered, your familiar bubble forming around you once again as he leaned down to kiss you.

His lips were soft, moving leisurely over yours as though you were a hallowed treasure, an invaluable jewel he’d set out to heist. His cupped your jaw, burning palm against your heated skin tilting your head so he could move impossibly closer, deepening the kiss until you feared he’d devour you. Reaching between your bodies, San aligned himself and pushed inside you once again, his groan and yours mingling in the negligible air between you.

He started off slow, letting out a shuddered moan as the tight heat of your pussy sucked him in, so deep he considered never pulling out. San fit inside you like he was born to fuck you dumb, his cockhead pressing your sweet spot every time he buried himself within your cunt, pushing more of your slick out and down past where he stretched you out.

San’s hips stuttered just as he’d built up his pace, the feeling of sneaky fingers prodding at his hole again dragging his attention off your face, his features contorting when Wooyoung easily slipped two fingers into his ass. A guttural moan left his lips, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut as he got stretched open, his hands squeezing around your waist while he adjusted.

“Is it too much, Sannie?” Wooyoung provoked him, and you knew it was his own wicked way of getting back at San for leaving him out. You could tell by the violent throbbing between your walls that San was close, and Wooyoung loved playing with San when he was desperate to cum. “’You gonna cum before our girl?”

San snapped his head towards him, glaring despite his predicament—two fingers pumping inside him and your pussy squeezing around his cock. He was in no position to glower at anyone, and yet your small giggle set him off further. He turned his attention to you, moving back to meet Wooyoung’s fingers and forward to piston his cock into your sopping hole. You sensed your orgasm building back up, arching an extra inch off the stained mattress each time San drove into you, lowering himself even more to wrap his lips around your nipple, biting and sucking it raw before licking a strip up your cleavage to the dip between your collarbones.

“Need you to come, baby, let go for me,” he wrapped both arms around you, whining between desperate groans, the stimulation from both sides almost too much for him.

You nodded wildly, a repetition of his name falling off your lips like honey-laced poison; San’s heart nearly arrested.

He untangled one of arms from your quivering form to reach for your clit, frantically flicking and rubbing until you began spasming in his arms, the whites of your eyes showing before you’d squeezed your lids together, jerking away from San’s touch yet rolling your hips towards it. Fiery pleasure blinded your senses, oxytocin rushing through your veins while your orgasm crashed into you like a cyclone wave, twitching uncontrollably within San’s hold.

It didn’t take long for San to follow, deep, breathy ‘ah’s leaving him while your pussy clenched around his cock, barely able to move as you held onto him while you came. Behind him, Wooyoung remained mostly impassive, humping San’s hip while his fingers massaged his prostate, opting to hurriedly jerk himself off instead when San’s thighs began shaking.

San could feel his sanity slipping away, Wooyoung’s fingers milking him of all he had. His cum spurted out of him in hot ropes while he hysterically grinded into you, stuffing your womb full of his seed. His moans lowered an octave, dropping himself over you while still coming, a stream of liquid squeezing past his cock and down to seep into the mattress below you.

At the first uncomfortable whine from the overstimulated man, Wooyoung pulled his fingers out, fucking his slick-covered fist until white ribbons painted San’s back, a few drops landing over his pulsing hole. He could help but reach forward to run a rough thumb over it, pushing his cum inside until San reached back to swat him away with a curse.

Wooyoung took you in from where he towered over you— sweat covered your entire body, skin sticking to San’s as he laid on top of you, head resting on your shoulder; your tits were bitten and bruised from his rough mouth, a bitemark circling your nipple, and cum dripping out of your cunt which San’s softening cock still resided within. Moving his eyes back to your face, they softened at your relaxed features, hooded eyes peering back at him and a warm, grateful smile on your lips. His cock twitched in interest upon noticing Mingi’s drying cum splattered over your face, his tongue poking the side of his mouth, aching for a taste.

Wooyoung grabbed San’s discarded singlet to wipe off the slick wetting his fingers, figuring the man wouldn’t mind another fluid staining the fabric. It was only then that he noticed your guest’s presence, fucked-out with flushed skin and blown-out pupils slowly lifting off your stretched hole to meet Wooyoung’s. Mingi’s own cum coated his toned abdomen, the muscle shaking as he took a shuddering breath in.

Wooyoung’s lips curled with something dangerous, and Mingi nearly flinched. His words, however, lit a treacherous wildfire within him and spread to his core.

“Be good, Mangi,” the nickname coming naturally, “and who knows? Maybe you’ll get the chance to taste her someday.”