i can't deny your appetite

by milkocaine

Summary:

San and Hongjoong share a dirty, little secret, and all it takes is one missing guitar, an accidental peep of pink lace, and San's loud mouth for the veil to come off.

Notes:

• For seraphthem.

please mind the tags for this one!
pls and ty
enjoy <3

“Aren’t we studying with Wooyoung today?”

San startles as a thick stack of textbooks shakes the table he’s studying on, and he levels his gaze upward to find Hongjoong watching him curiously. He clears his throat, then nudges his glasses up his nose a bit further after they had slid down from his head being buried so deep into his chemistry textbook for so long.

“Um, no,” San tells him quietly, conscious of the other students in the library as his lips form something between a frown and a pout. “He said his dad came to pick him up after his lab.”

Hongjoong’s lips form an understanding ‘o’ as he nods slowly before slipping his backpack off his shoulder and dropping it to the floor with a gentle thump. He pulls out his laptop and opens up a textbook before giving San a toothy grin. “Well, we can still study anyway. Do you know if he’s gonna come back?”

San shakes his head and glances back down at his textbook. “Not sure.”

The three of them have been friends since the beginning of high school, and now that they’re all in their second year of university—nearing the end of their second year—it marks five, long years of their youthful friendship.

A lot of their time spent together shaped them up to be who they are today. Although they’re still just barely getting into their twenties, it feels as though the youthfulness of being boys has only now found its place in their little circle.

It’s normal, the way the younger generation wishes to be perceived as older than they actually are. It had been like that back when they were in high school, too. Rather than studying in the hours after all their classes have ended, they’ll hang around karaoke bars, go shopping, and choose to spend their time doing ‘fun’ things, forgoing their responsibilities as students.

But San has always been studious, and so has Hongjoong. Wooyoung tends to be a little more adventurous and experimental, but he never put any of those things before his studies. His dream is to become a teacher, after all.

The hand on the clock ticks until late into the afternoon, and San is taking a small break while checking his schedule for tomorrow when he gasps suddenly, hands slamming down into the table as Hongjoong flinches in fright.

“W-what? What happened?” Hongjoong verbalizes.

“My—my guitar!” San gasps out breathlessly. “Wooyoung has it…!”

Hongjoong blinks, then the expression on his face dissolves of alarm as a soft huff of air leaves his crooked lips. “Jesus, you scared me. Can’t you, I dunno, get it tomorrow?”

“I can’t,” San speaks hurriedly while haphazardly throwing everything into his bag. “I need it tomorrow morning. Do you think he’s home yet…?”

“I—I don’t know. I can message him?” Hongjoong offers, his hand reaching for his phone. San is busy packing away all his books as Hongjoong shoots off a text to Wooyoung. They clamber out of their seats when the table is clear of all their belongings and push the chairs back under the table as they’re careful not to leave it messy.

Wooyoung messages them back just as they reach the library’s west entrance.

 

WY: no i’m not home but u can go get it

WY: my mom is gonna be late at work today so u can just grab the key under the plant

WY: tell sannie i’m sorry~~~ 

 

Hongjoong turns his phone around so San can look at the text conversation. Well, it’s not like it’s the first time they’ve gone over without Wooyoung being present. Of the three of them, he’s probably the busiest outside of all the study sessions they host together.

A group of girls pass by in skirts, and one of them recognizes Hongjoong from being in the same class as she calls out to him, but Hongjoong’s body turns frigid as she bounces up to him with a smile on her face. The top two buttons of her shirt are undone, and her cleavage shows in a way that has to be intentional.

“Kim Hongjoong! You’re Hongjoong, right? The answers for the homework assigned today—do you think you can send them to me tonight?” she asks cutely. San forces himself to drag his gaze away from her chest as a flush rises to his cheeks.

He has always been shy with girls. It’s not that he doesn’t love girls, he just cares very little about most of them. That doesn’t mean he should be looking when they’re practically shoving their tits in everyone’s faces.

Hongjoong sputters and nods his lowered head frantically, glasses slipping just a little. “Y-y-yes, I’ll—I’ll send it!” he exclaims, then turns his back when she thanks him and skips off with her group of girlfriends who have been waiting rather impatiently off to the side. He readjusts his glasses and coughs out of embarrassment, glaring at San with reddened cheeks for the way he laughs at him before pretending to be busy with himself on his own phone.

San snickers while tapping on the black screen. “It’s upside down.”

Hongjoong flusters animatedly but follows after San with a grumble too quiet to be heard. Can he be blamed for it? Any boy would react the same way. “Don’t lie,” he accuses as they follow the path out to the main road to where the bus station is, “I know you were looking too.”

San scoffs. “At least I didn’t embarrass myself in front of her! Do you just let her bully you into giving her homework answers all the time?” They’re not in high school anymore. While it may have happened frequently back then, shouldn’t it be different now that they’re in post-secondary?

Hongjoong shrugs, a little embarrassed. “I dunno. I don’t really wanna say no.”

“What? Why?” San asks, incredulous. With suddenly narrowed eyes, he adds, “Do you like her?”

Hongjoong sputters and hides his flushed face when they draw a few glances from the people waiting around the bus stop. “The hell, of course I don’t! I don’t just go around liking every girl with huge tits,” he mumbles, volume dropped to ensure they’re the only listeners to the conversation.

“You’re crazy,” San mutters, but he knows he’s the same as well.

The warmth of a late-May sun draws perspiration to their necks and temples while they climb the flights of stairs up to Wooyoung’s floor. San’s white t-shirt sticks to his body as he leans down to pick up the potted plant, the key they’re so familiar with sitting right where it’s supposed to, and they’re making their way into the apartment unit after the lock has clicked itself open with the twist of a hand.

The first thing the two of them do is drop their backpacks by the legs of the coffee table in the living room, a gentle thud sounding when the weight of it hits the floor, and then San goes to look for his guitar while Hongjoong plops down on the couch.

“We might as well just study here, right?” Hongjoong calls out, to which San responds in agreement.

They’ve been here so many times it feels like a second home. Back then, they used to hang around Wooyoung’s place often because it was so close to school. All their group projects done back in high school were done here because Wooyoung’s mm loved having them over for dinner, and she is also an excellent cook. Their current campus is a little further out now, so they usually stay late at libraries to study, but the real reason they haven’t been around as much is something that has remained unspoken.

They’re all a little older now, and with growth comes natural, obvious changes, such as a secondary hunger similar to but not the same as dessert. It’s sweet, like strawberry milk-scented lotion and coconut and vanilla shampoo, and it comes with dainty wrists and pretty, manicured fingers. Being here as often as they used to might send San into a world he isn’t ready to greet yet.

And Hongjoong isn’t much better, either.

Wooyoung’s door is already open when San walks in. He had expected to spot his guitar right away since it’s such a big instrument, but he’s stumped when he doesn’t see it. He blinks, turning on his heels.

What?

“Is my guitar out there?” he calls out, but he could have sworn he’d have seen it when he walked in. Hongjoong shouts to confirm his thoughts, so San pops Wooyoung’s closet open, puzzled. There’s no way it’d fit in there, but he might as well look.

It isn’t in the washroom, either—he doesn’t know why it’d ever be in the washroom—and it’s not anywhere that San can see. He stops at the threshold of Wooyoung’s mom’s room. Does she have it? Why would she have it?

San gulps, hand twisting on the handle, and he releases his breath when her bedroom door pops open.

Wooyoung’s mom’s name is Seonghwa. She’s a woman nearing her forties who San and Hongjoong had initially mistaken for Wooyoung’s sister when they had first met her. She looked, and still looks, so incredibly young it might have felt more rude to immediately assume she had been his mom.

Either way, their relationship has grown to be something more similar to that of friends. They still address her properly, but they’re able to make jokes they usually don’t ever make unless it’s just the three of them. She often asks about the lingo that their generation uses, and it’s cute when she can never understand it, especially when so much of it has a sexual connotation attached to it.

She’s a friend like that, but almost a mother in the way she isn’t afraid to scold them as if they were her own kids. She’ll ask them how their studies are going, tsk and shake her head if Hongjoong and Wooyoung get too carried away playing games, and make them do small chores like washing the dishes or taking out the garbage for getting to use her place as their own.

She’s also fucking hot. Hongjoong and San have both mentioned it—a conversation that started vaguely and had eventually spiralled into something more vulgar and indecent in a setting where Wooyoung hadn’t been present in—and it’s a secret they plan on taking to their grave.

They know it’s not really normal to be crushing on your friend’s mom, but San and Hongjoong are flawed in ways that other people aren’t—but is it really so wrong? Isn’t everyone allowed one vice in this world?

Plus, it’s really not their fault. San and Hongjoong know literally zero girls—not close enough to be acquaintances, and definitely not close enough to have a conversation with direct eye contact. Imagine their surprise when Wooyoung’s mom, who looks young enough for them to want to call her noona, had found their awkwardness adorable and held her gaze on them when seeking out interaction, right from the very beginning.

In their full honesty, Seonghwa is a wet dream come true. They may be virgins, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know what it’s like to have a hasty hand down their pants, rubbing until they’re wet and raw and they’re coming to the images of their friend’s mom bent over her own kitchen table.

It doesn’t mean they don’t wonder what it’s like to have their cock pressed deep into a pussy, and it doesn’t mean they haven’t gone down the darkest, filthiest rabbit hole trying to learn more about something they know they might not get for a long time, but only because they don’t want it unless it’s her. They don’t want to know what it’s like to be in pussy unless it’s hers.

It’s disgusting, they know, but do they really care that much? The answer is: no, not really. Despite being familiar with all the mean, nerdy comments from high school from investing so much of their time in all things related to education, they grew up in their own, twisted ways, and they often feel little guilt over the content they consume in the confines of their own bedrooms.

And Seonghwa? Her kind of beauty is out of this world. San didn’t realize he had such a thing for older women until he even met her. He’s been so obsessed with Yuuna Hoshizaki since this discovery solely for the reasons of her having that mature look, and that so much of her stuff is filmed with when she had shorter lengthed hair to her shoulders—the exact same way Seonghwa likes to keep hers. He always comes the hardest when his vision grows blurry and Yuuna Hoshizaki’s face seems to melt into Seonghwa’s.

The afterthought of it sits dormant at the back of San’s mind, brewing quietly but rippling with a threat to spill as he peeks his head in slowly. He knows she’s not home, but he still can’t help but feel wary when he takes his first step into her bedroom. It’s messier than he had expected, with scattered sheet music across the floor and a clipped bag of tortilla chips resting at the foot of her bed. There, in the middle of her room by her nightstand table, is his guitar, and it rests comfortably on a stand that San didn’t realize had ever been in this two-bedroom apartment.

Perhaps she does play. He imagines her sitting on her bed with her legs hanging off the edge, guitar in her lap and nimble fingers strumming along the strings.

He’s careful to not step on any of the loose papers as he makes his way closer to her bed. It’s properly made, the way she makes Wooyoung do his own in the morning, but there’s a slight dent in the shape of how one sits near her pillow by his guitar.

Curiously and cautiously, he glances behind him to the door, where he has left it only slightly ajar, before allowing his gaze to roam freely around her room. He’s never been in here before—has never needed to come in here, but now that he is, he can’t help the internal pressure to snoop around.

He can’t bring himself to feel terrible about it, not when something lacey and pink peeks out from underneath her covers as if she can care enough to make her bed—but not enough to hide her sleepwear. His fingers hook around the strap and when he pulls, a light pink, see-through babydoll dress comes with it. His mouth runs dry as he watches it sway, suspended in midair as it dangles from a curled pinky, and he can’t help the shaky breath he sucks in as a vivid image of Seonghwa laying in her bed, dolled up and pretty, smooth skin under something so erotically enticing crosses his dizzying mind.

He brings it to his face, the fabric tickling the skin on his nose and chin and cheeks as he takes a deep inhale. It smells of a perfumey strawberry milk, and San imagines her rubbing lotion across her naked body after she comes out of her nighttime shower, from her ankles up to her thighs, her hips, and her stomach. He thinks of small hands cupping the mounds on her chest, squeezing and massaging to ensure it’s soft and moisturized before throwing her babydoll dress over her figure.

It’s foul, the way his cock stirs in his shorts from the imagery his wild fantasy has created, but he can’t get enough of it. He drops the fabric back onto her bed before quietly tiptoeing his way over to her dresser. 

She’s diverse in her selection of panties, ranging from light pinks to violets and whites and blacks. All of them are laced and frilly and soft, more for presentation than for comfort, and San wonders how she poses and looks at herself in the mirror. Does she touch herself in them? Does she wish she had a strong man to help her get off after having been divorced for so long?

San wonders what types of men she brings home—if she ever brings them home. He can’t imagine it’s very easy when she lives with her own son, but he lets his thoughts travel down that path anyway as he raises a handful of her panties to his face.

He breathes in a gentle scent of laundry detergent and reminds himself that there’s really nothing that different to smelling clean clothes after a fresh wash, but these are her panties, and he’s going to take whatever he can get since the chance presented itself to him so enticingly.

A hand comes forward to palm his erection through his shorts as he sniffs, and under the lust-drunk influence, he lets his tongue dart out to swipe across the fabric, coating it in a thin layer of saliva. He wonders if she’d wear this pair tonight; if it’d be the first one she grabs if he purposely left it laying overtop of the rest. Will she notice if a pair is gone? San never imagined himself to be a panty-stealer, but if it’s hers, he doesn’t think he’ll care all that much about curating his own collection of them.

His whines are muffled and shaky, cock aching so bad in his shorts he needs to come now or he might never get this chance again. Should he come in her panties? Fuck, there’s no way she wouldn’t find out. The idea of it is so fucking hot, though, that San can’t help but to slip a hand into his shorts.

“Hey, are you almost—oh.”

San’s entire body freezes up just as his hooded gaze meets Hongjoong. He still has panties up to his nose and a hand past the waistband of his shorts, and he knows there’s literally no other way to explain what is going on, because no excuse is going to bandage the situation.

Hongjoong stares, wide-eyed, then scoffs out disbelievingly. “You’re fucking insane—”

But they aren’t given much time for conversation because there’s someone at the door. The jingle of keys it the first thing they hear in the heavy silence of the apartment, and then the distinct sound of a key wiggling its way into the lock reaches their ears, and neither of them have any idea what happens in the next five seconds as San haphazardly throws her panties back into the dresser and chases Hongjoong out of her bedroom. He’s lucky he didn’t step on her sheet music, because that would have been terrible to try to remedy.

He readjusts himself in his shorts and hopes it isn’t too obvious, and by the time they make it back into the living room, Seonghwa has just shut and locked the front door. She turns around and her whole body withdraws out of surprise, a hand pressed to her chest.

“Goodness,” she says after finding her breath again, her shoulders sinking back to their original place, “you scared me. Wooyoung-ie didn’t tell me you guys were coming over.”

“S-sorry,” San apologizes meekly. He finds a spot on the couch next to Hongjoong, who tosses a pillow on San’s lap. With much silent gratitude, he takes it over his crotch. “It was a last minute decision. I needed my guitar.”

Seonghwa hangs her keys and drops her purse onto the island counter, sage green spring dress flowing with every turn on her heels and every step she takes, as if it’s inviting them for a waltz. It’s layered with slightly see-through fabric, thinner at the ends near her knees, but darker with the overlaps as it reaches into the length of her thighs.

It’s San’s favourite dress on her, especially because it cups her breasts so perfectly with just the right amount of cleavage showing. He wonders if her male coworkers gaze upon her the same way he secretly does when she isn’t looking.

“You two might as well have dinner here,” she speaks while moving around the kitchen. She pulls different things out from the fridge and sets a large pot out on the stovetop before making her way towards them with hands resting on her hips. “Do you need your guitar right now? I forgot I borrowed it.”

San sits up a little straighter, eyes sliding up from her delicately painted toes to her face. “I didn’t know you could play,” he comments as though he hadn’t just been snooping in her room three minutes ago.

Her expression softens to one of timidness, tense muscles relaxing as her hands drop to her sides. “W-well, just a little. I played a bit when I was young,” she mumbles.

San wants to argue: you are still young.

She turns on her heels, her dress twirling with the motion. “Let me change and I’ll bring it out to you.” San watches curiously as she pauses with a glance down at her door, something akin to bewilderment on her face before shrugging it off, stepping inside, and shutting it quietly.

Hongjoong nudges San with his knee. “So, what kind of detergent does she use?”

San slinks back into the cushion of the couch, pillow hugged tightly to himself. “Lavender-scented.”

“You’re sick. Fuck you,” Hongjoong mutters, his shoulders curling in.

San’s jaw drops. “W-what? Why?”

“It should’ve been me.”

Seonghwa reappears in comfier clothes in less than a minute—pajama pants and a sand dollar sweater cardigan over a white shirt, and it makes her look so snug and cuddly, especially with her feet now padding against the laminate floors in a pair of fluffy, bunny-shaped slippers they’ve grown so familiar with.

“Come study here,” she offers with a crooked finger despite the idea of studying being completely out of mind for the two of them. They give each other a silent glance before getting off the couch and picking up their belongings to take over to the kitchen. San has since calmed down a bit, but he can never actually feel normal around her.

She helps clear the counter, bending at the waist when she has to reach deep to wipe at the splatter of water near the sink tap, and her chest swings with the aggressive movement. Seonghwa straightens out with the wet rag still in her hands, then turns to look at San with an innocent squint in her eyes as though she’s inspecting something on his shirt. It comes out of nowhere, her hand closing down suddenly around San’s bicep to give it a dainty little squeeze, and then she’s poking a curious finger into his chest. “Have you been working out?”

San doesn’t know if the colour drains from his face, or if he’s so red from how quickly blood floods to his cheeks. Either way, he’s fucking dizzy.

“Uh,” he coughs, wrist coming up to his mouth. “A little.”

Seonghwa nods proudly, cute hums coming from her mouth. “I like it!”

It’s impossible. How can she do such things and say such things so easily? As though it has no effect on San? She does these things and does them so purely and without sinful intention, yet somehow it still manages to make San feel flustered from the perverted thoughts of wondering what she might think of him if she ever finds out what goes on in his head.

“Thanks,” he whispers, and he isn’t even sure if she hears him.

“Did Wooyoung-ie say when he’ll be home?” she asks casually as she drizzles some oil into the pot, the flame underneath flicking to life.

“Um, no,” Hongjoong tells her while slipping his laptop out of his backpack. “Would you like me to ask?”

“No,” she speaks with a sigh, “it’s fine. I don’t want to bother him when he’s with his dad.”

They’re not too sure how long they study for, only because San is so distracted he doesn’t know if he actually got much studying done. The entire time she moves effortlessly around the kitchen, his mind wanders back to earlier despite his efforts to push them away.

The new knowledge of what Seonghwa likes to wear when she goes to sleep stays rooted in the forefront of his brain, steady and unwavering even as his eyes scan the words of empty meaning on his textbook. He realizes he hasn’t flipped a single page until the sound of a burner hitting a surface jerks his attention towards it.

Hongjoong glances up as well, and they watch how Seonghwa fans her reddened cheeks by the dining table, and it’s now that they notice how hot it’s gotten in here from the heat at the stove. She turns to crack a window open despite the lack of chilliness in the early evening, and then she’s reaching for her cardigan.

San has seen skin before. Summer brings a heat that’s impossible to survive through without tank tops or short sleeves, shorts and skirts. Girls have their chests out, and their thighs squish decadently when they take the empty seat next to him on the bus.

Obviously, he’s not the type to stare. He’s never been the type to stare so blatantly, but somehow, when it’s Seonghwa? He can’t help it. She slips her cardigan off slowly to hang it on the back of the chair, and it should have just been shoulders and arms with that white sleeveless top underneath, but no —there’s so much more.

San and Hongjoong see everything. San gulps so audibly, Hongjoong snaps his head to look at him. He swivels in his seat to face Hongjoong, their faces so red it’s alarming. The shorter one says something first, thankful that the fan is still running to conceal their voices, “Oh my god, wha—w-w-what do we do?”

Hongjoong presses two palms into his cheeks in an attempt to cool himself, but it doesn’t to anything except make him look stupid, especially when San can see the clamminess in his hands.

He flinches when the sink tap turns on, then dips lower to hiss, “I don’t know, but you—you need to act normal.”

“Me?” Hongjoong gawks with a finger pointed at himself, appalled. San doesn’t know what he looks like, but anxiety starts to grow in his chest from the way Hongjoong stares so intently at him. “Look at you! Plus, I— I wasn’t the one sniffing panties in her room!”

How does one even act normal in this situation? Would it have been different if Wooyoung’s mother wasn't so pretty? Would San have reacted differently if he hasn’t been fantasizing about her for the past two or something years?

Park Seonghwa is not wearing a bra, and she has a very, very full chest. Well, it’s fine, because why would she when she’s in her own house? She’s allowed to do whatever she wants— wear whatever she wants—but it’s not really fine because San and Hongjoong are two words away from having a mental breakdown over sweat, skin, and tits.

It’s not like they’ve never seen boobs, but not like this—not on someone they know, and not so close they’re technically within reach. She’s never gone braless before, at least not that they’ve really been able to notice. She usually has a robe on, or she’s still walking around in her work clothes. Even in her home clothes like this, she’ll usually have a cardigan on. Has it really gotten that hot in here? They can’t tell, not when they feel like their entire body is on fire.

Her nipples poke into the fabric to raise little peaks when she gives a big stretch, back arched and expression tightened as though the whole day has laid heavy stress on her shoulders. She peeks an eye open, then drops her arms with a sigh. “What’s wrong?” she asks, concerned by the look on their faces.

San and Hongjoong sit upright immediately to face her. Hongjoong’s hands clasp one over the other on the counter and San’s fidgeting with his in his lap. Their backs are so straight it’s as if their mean English teacher from their second year of high school had called their names midway through an accidental nap.

“Uh, n-nothing,” San says as casually as he can and forces himself to look directly at her eyes and nowhere else, because if he takes them off hers, he’s going to start looking at another pair of something else.

She regards them quietly, gaze flicking from one boy to the other, then frowns as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I knew it was too hot in here. You both look extremely flushed.”

Oh god, San prays, noticing the way her breasts squish in his peripheral vision. He has to remind himself to not look down, so he casts a quick glance to his side instead, and he sees just enough to know that Hongjoong has become a stone.

Seonghwa steps up to the counter, eyes squinting before bending forward with a finger tapping delicately at her chin. “Do you guys want water?” she asks, finally— finally —turning away to head for the fridge. “You can go take a seat at the dining table. I’m almost done.”

And as if they’ll be punished for not listening, San and Hongjoong scramble towards the circular table, hands grabbing onto chairs before sliding into them. It’s at that moment, San notices something, and his heart leaps to his throat as he leans down to crowd Hongjoong’s personal space.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he whispers. “You’re hard!”

“Oh, fuck,” Hongjoong breathes out, then, as subtly as he can, presses a hand into the bulge in his shorts to try and readjust himself, just in time for Seonghwa to come back with three glasses of cold water, and as she sets it down in front of them, they both dip their heads stupidly. San chances a peek up just in time to catch an eyeful of sideboob from how low the armholes of her shirt hangs.

It’s impossible to not think about even as they eat dinner—even through the casual conversation she initiates the entire time. How is he supposed to act normal after seeing that? It leaves so little to the imagination, San doesn’t think he’ll ever have to wonder how she looks sprawled naked on a bed that looks frighteningly similar to his own, or her own, now.

After helping drop all the dishes in the sink and cleaning up the dining table, they find their original spots on the couch. The evening has settled now that the sun has dropped lower to paint a beautiful image of an orange and pink dusk in the sky, and San thinks they should probably head home soon.

Never mind that it’s getting late, San and Hongjoong don’t think they can last another ten minutes here without feeling like they’ll spontaneously combust from being in a perpetual state of sexual frustration.

It’s almost unfair, the way she smiles and giggles and walks around without the knowledge of the internal battle they have with themselves. The innocence is unfounded—does she really not know the effect she has on them?

They’re men, after all. Despite the age difference of almost twenty years, isn’t she aware of the fact that she still looks so young and healthy and pretty that she draws the attention of desperate men both younger and older?

“Oh, let me get your guitar,” Seonghwa says from the kitchen while wiping her hands on a towel before walking past them to go back into her room. This time, she takes a longer time in there. San is starting to feel his skin prickle with unease. Why does it take longer for her to bring his guitar than it does for her to change?

“This is fucked,” Hongjoong whispers, his head hiding behind his laptop screen.

San taps the back of his pencil restlessly into his opened textbook. “There’s no way she’s doing this on purpose, right?” he asks quietly, a hand cupped around his mouth.

Hongjoong shrugs and says, “I don’t know. Does it matter? I’m about to go home and—

“Did you guys come into my room?” a voice calls out from the end of the hallway, her tone strict and rigid.

Immediately, the two boys scramble into a standing position, unfamiliar with the sudden rush of anxiety flooding their brain as their hearts beat erratically at the sudden realization that they might’ve been caught.

They’ve never been caught before—not while watching porn, not with their hands down their pants, not even when speaking of anything remotely close to anything inappropriate. It’s a newness that has their heads swimming with fear, hands growing clammy with nervous perspiration, and mouths drying out as every word they can come up with dies on their tongue.

Seonghwa peeks her head out, a pretty pink powdering her cheeks as though she’d just layered on some bright blush, and when she speaks, she speaks sternly, “Come here.”

San and Hongjoong cause a large commotion on their way there, a curse falling from the latter’s lips when his shin accidentally bangs the corner of the coffee table, and they suddenly find themselves standing at the threshold of her room—a place burned into San’s memory.

They hang their heads in shame as Seonoghwa stands in front of them, arms crossed and slightly vexed with a finger tapping into her bicep. It’s silent because San and Hongjoong are at a loss for words even though Seonghwa is waiting for one of them to say something first.

At last, she sighs. “I understand you were looking for your guitar, and I apologize for not asking before using it, but you two are not allowed to—” she pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat as her face grows redder with each passing second, “to go through my things.”

From where San is standing, he can see that the babydoll dress that he had in his hands earlier is nowhere to be seen, and his stomach drops and flattens with mortification.

“I-I didn’t!” he lies right through his teeth, shoulders squaring out. “I—I—y-your dress—it was right in the middle of the bed, I swear.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen and her lips snap shut. Her entire body stills as she turns slowly to glance at the bed behind her. “My… my dress?”

San’s breaths are shallow when he responds. “Y-yes?”

Seonghwa lifts an eyebrow like she’s challenging him, a hand resting on her hips as she shifts her weight to one side. “The one that was on my bed. You swear?”

“Y-yes!”

But she’s walking closer, like a predator stalking her prey, until she’s standing right in front of San, who has squinted his eyes shut out of guilt and remorse—for lying, for having been caught, all of it.

“I didn’t know about that, because that wasn’t what I was talking about,” she claims, an angry finger jabbing into his chest one one side in accusation. San peeks his eyes open to find her glaring at him, but it does nothing considering how beautifully she blushes out of humiliation. She turns and points at her dresser, where San had been scouring through earlier, and he sees pink lace pinched between the shelves. He realizes that, in his haste, he had not put them back properly.

It wouldn’t have been so obvious if Seonghwa isn’t so uptight about everything being orderly and neat. Had she had some time to clean up the sheet music spread across the floor, she would have, but San imagines she had left hurriedly for work this morning with no time to put anything away.

He’s at a loss. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest in fear of what might happen now that the secret is out. Hongjoong stands next to him trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I-I’m sorry,” San whispers, voice breaking.

“For what?” Seonghwa continues, arms crossed over her chest again as she waits for an explanation. An embarrassment sits heavy on her frame, but she knows she must hold her ground. They’re just boys—they’ll make mistakes in life, and even if this had been a little inappropriate, she’s not above teaching them properly for their actions.

San feels like he’s going to lose his mind. It’s overwhelming, the way shame and embarrassment catches up to him, but also the memories of earlier—of panties in his face, the image of Seonghwa laying prettily in the baby pink lingerie, a flash of sideboob—everything floods his senses so intensely, he doesn’t know why says what he says next.

“It’s… it’s not my fault…!”

Hongjoong’s gasp is resounding in the silence that follows, and Seonghwa looks stunned at San’s little outburst.

He continues despite wishing he could bite down on his tongue instead, “You’re so… s-so pretty, I—I couldn’t help it.” He can’t look her in the eyes when he says it, but he forces them back up after a brief moment of contemplation because he wants her to feel how genuine he is.

Seonghwa blinks out of surprise, and her hands come to her mouth as though she’s suddenly self conscious. “What?” she gasps out.

“I-I was in here looking for my guitar and I—I got sidetracked,” he admits, but his humiliation withers in place of a hysterical desperation for her understanding. He takes a step forward into her room just as she takes a wary step back, eyebrows scrunching together when she looks down at his feet.

“How? Y-you’re so young, you shouldn’t even be thinking about these kinds of—”

“We’re men,” San cuts her off, just as Hongjoong’s hand clamps down over his shoulder.

“San, we should—”

San whips around, directing his attention towards Hongjoong with a frantic heat in his eyes. His voice raises just a pitch, like he’s pleading with them. “No! I’m being really serious here! I don’t—I don’t think you realize what it is you do to us! Today, you—you are not even wearing a bra,” he states, gesturing to her chest as he begins to admit to his defeat.

Her arms cross over her bust immediately as if to hide herself, but it doesn’t work very well considering the way they squish underneath, and her eyebrows stitch together in hot shame and confusion. “Y-you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she tries. “How am I supposed to know that…? I’m Wooyoung-ie’s mother —”

“So?” San breathes out and takes another step forward. Seonghwa takes a step back. He turns to look at Hongjoong, who begs at him with his eyes. “Please, Hongjoong hyung, you have to back me up. I—” he looks back at Seonghwa, the glint in his eyes wild with craze, “we could be so good for you.”

Seonghwa shakes her head, her expression morphing into one of apprehension. “You—you can not say that to me. I’m…” Her eyes drop momentarily, and the gasp she lets out at the sight of the tent in San’s shorts makes her twitch backwards, except this time Seonghwa’s foot hits her bed frame, and the weight of her body crashes back into her mattress where she bounces with a spring.

“Please,” San begs, drawing closer, but she shakes her head, eyes wide and face red as the realization of their positions dawns on her. San and Hongjoong stand there watching her intensely, and the look in their eyes shift suddenly—at the woman in her bed, knees pressed together and upper body supported by the bend of her elbow. Their pupils dilate as the image whets their appetite for something more than just food; they’re hungry for her.

And it seems she knows as she backs herself up more, her eyes flicking between the two of them in alarm. “Y-you can’t do this,” she states, panicking as the boys stalk closer. It’s as though she talks to animals, the way her words go in one ear and out the other. She points a shaky finger at them and voices out, “Th-think about what you’re doing,” but her words sound empty with the little weight it has to them.

San adjusts his glasses while taking a seat at the edge of the bed, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He can’t believe this is happening. For the amount of times he’s dreamt of her like this, so close her chest heaves from their proximity, face flushed so beautifully, he couldn’t have imagined how much better the real thing is.

“I believe I actually think about you too much,” he tells her excitedly with a hand on his chest, the same way he talks about his favourite strawberry cake from this bakery, or the way he gushes over his latest anime obsession. “I think about you all the time.”

Seonghwa will always be his obsession, though—a different kind of obsession, but she is so bad for him the way an addiction is either way.

She looks at him as though he’s crazy, and then she flicks her gaze towards Hongjoong, who settles himself on her bed with a knee first, and then a hand to support his weight next to her. “Please,” she whimpers, “I—I’ll forgive you still if you stop right now.”

“But do you really want us to stop?” San asks with a tilt of his head. Seonghwa does not look away from his dilated pupils, entranced by the way he gazes at her with so much longing. “You don’t have a man to pleasure you anymore, right?”

Hongjoong adds to the conversation while reaching forward to grip around Seonghwa’s ankle despite her jerking away initially, “Don’t you wear these kinds of things,” he reaches for the pink babydoll dress and holds it up for them to see, “waiting for someone to fuck you in them?”

Seonghwa’s bottom lip quivers, eyes blown wide from such vulgar words. Hongjoong’s hand catches her wrist, and her attention snaps towards the touch. “This—t-this is wrong. I’m… I’m almost forty —”

“But it feels right, right?” San asks as he glides his hand further up her ankle and underneath the fabric of her pajama pants. Her calf is soft to the touch, buttery like she takes extra care in moisturizing her skin. He turns to climb further up the bed on his knees, and the squeak she makes when his rough hands grip at her knees to pry them open sends blood rushing straight for his cock.

“I don’t care how old you are,” San whispers while making himself comfortable between her legs despite the way that she struggles with trembling thighs, “you’re so pretty it doesn’t even matter, noona.”

She must like it, the way the word sounds falling from San’s lips, his voice sickeningly sweet, because the shudder gives it away, and it pairs well with the quiet whine that escapes from her mouth. She slaps her hand over her lips, surprised by the noise she had made, but Hongjoong is pulling that one away too to press her wrists into the spot above her head.

Like this, she feels exposed even with the loose, thin tank top she wears. They ogle shamelessly at the way her breasts bounce with every little struggle she makes against their tight grips, and Hongjoong sucks in a sharp breath before leaning down to press his lips into her silky, black hair.

“Noona,”  he calls out with a hint of desperation lining his voice, “you like it, right?”

“Noona,” San repeats, leaning forward to hover his face over her chest. He refuses to take his eyes off hers, the glint in them dangerous and mixed with something akin to possessiveness. “Can we touch you?” he asks with a hand sliding underneath the hem of her shirt, his other one still resting behind him on her knee. “I promise we can make you feel so good.”

Seonghwa’s eyes glisten like she wants to cry, but she takes too long to answer, and San takes it as the answer he wants to hear. He slips his hand out from under her shirt, then reaches forward to grab a handful of the fabric on her chest, scrunching it up and revealing her perfect tits.

She makes a noise of surprise, a mixture of a whine and a gasp, and arches her back off the bed. Hongjoong presses a kiss into her temple, watching as San stuffs the fabric between her breasts. This way, almost everything is covered except the part she embarrasses herself over.

Every movement brings motion to them, bouncing and jiggling as her nipples harden under the intensity of their staring, and when San cups a large hand over one of them, she scrunches her eyes shut and turns her head away.

“What’s wrong?” Hongjoong asks with mock concern.

She shakes her head as San gives a gentle, experimental squeeze, but her eyes open when a hand caresses her cheek to tilt her back up, and what she sees is not the ceiling—with glossy eyes, she stares up into Hongjoong’s grinning face. “What is it?” he pries.

Seonghwa’s exhale is shaky. “It’s—it’s embarrassing,” she whispers, adverting his gaze even though she arches into San’s touch. “Y-you shouldn’t do this,” she tries again, but this time it seems as though she’s lost the resolve and firmness she had earlier.

“You don’t sound very convincing, noona,” Hongjoong responds, a fingernail grazing against her lips. “It’s only a suggestion, right?”

“Give in,” San whispers, and Seonghwa has to tear her gaze away to look down at San, who now has his lips hovering over a nipple. She has little time to say anything before he attaches to it, teeth grazing against the hardened nub to nip down at it gently, and the cry she lets out is so cute it goes straight to their cocks.

She also doesn’t know when it happened, but Hongjoong has released a hand over her wrists to cup over her other breast, fingers brushing ticklishly back and forth over her nipple to draw jittery exhales from her. All the little touches feel so overwhelming and so good , sending sparks up her torso to the ends of her fingertips, and she can’t help the way her stomach curls from how San flicks his tongue over such a sensitive part. She’s embarrassed by the way her panties grow wet when Hongjoong pinches, then soothes it over with his thumb.

Seonghwa shouldn’t be wanting this. They’re the same age as her son —how did she end up with these two boys in her bed, their hands all over her like this? She tests the restriction around her wrists, but Hongjoong is a lot stronger than he looks, the way he’s able to keep her bound there with one hand. It shouldn’t feel this good, the way they have her held down so easily, the way they treat her like they know exactly what she’s been yearning for. Despite her complaints, she can’t help but to find herself succumbing to their persistent touches. How can she not? They’ve been coaxing her this entire time, pleading with her, thirsting after her.

It’s shameful and humiliating, but it gets her so hot and bothered in a way she has never felt in her entire life before.

“Noona,” Hongjoong whispers, “your arms—they’re so nice. Here, especially,” and it’s then that Seonghwa flinches, surprised by the touch at her armpit. She’s always been bare there, blessed with the inability to grow hair in her underarm area. “I wanna fuck you here.”

The bold declaration steals the breath right from her lungs. “How can you say— ah! H-how can you say something so… so embarrassing?” she whines quietly, peering down into San’s blown pupils just as he pops off her breast to reveal a red, swollen bud. The way a string of saliva connects her nipple to the bubble of spit on his bottom lip is so lewd she has to force herself to look away.

Hongjoong can’t wait anymore. He tugs his shorts and boxers down in one go, his cock springing upward and slapping him on his abdomen, and Seonghwa feels like she shouldn’t even be watching this. His cock is large considering his stature, thick and so heavy-looking, it sends a nervous shiver up her spine.

“You look so pretty, noona,” Hongjoong speaks breathlessly, then slaps his dick against her armpit before stroking the tip of it into the smooth skin there. She makes a little noise of disapproval for how weird it feels, but before she can say anything, San is shoving her silky, babydoll dress into her mouth, fingers pressing deep into the hot cavern to hear her gurgle around them.

It feels so embarrassing to have someone fucking their cock into her armpit. Never in her life did she think she’d be on the receiving end of something like this, and hot shame floods her veins at the idea of being so easily used by two boys who are almost twenty years younger than her with little possibility of putting up a fight.

The tip of Hongjoong’s cock taps the side of her face with every forward thrust of his hips, the sensation unfamiliar and almost ticklish, and the action smears precum on her cheek in a filthy way that has both humiliation and arousal fighting against each other in the pit of her stomach.

Seonghwa looks absolutely beautiful like this. San imagines she’s probably so used to having sex the proper, traditional way. She’s probably never had lingerie stuffed in her mouth while someone uses her armpit to fuck their cock into. She’s never felt so debauched despite still having all her clothes on, and the idea of her being at the mercy of two disgusting perverts like themselves has him so achingly hard in his shorts.

He palms her through her pajama pants and Seonghwa instinctively tries closing her legs even though she traps San in between them. “Does it feel good?” he asks, fingers pressing down gently to drag the contact up and down. Her whimpers are muffled by the fabric in her mouth. He’s never done this before, but he’s always been studious. He knows exactly where to look.

A high-pitched whine pours from her lips when San circles his fingers around her clit. “Say something, noona,” he speaks sweetly, an innocent, little pout resting on his lips. “Why won’t you tell me? I want to know if it feels good.”

Seonghwa moans, thighs trembling into the sides of San’s hips from how tightly she clenches around him, but when she tries to spit the lingerie out to answer him, Hongjoong’s palm clamps down over her mouth, trapping the fabric there and muffling her little noises even more. 

She sounds better than how they’ve been imagining her in their filthiest of wet dreams. Her hair frames her face beautifully, and her eyebrows knit together like she can’t understand why her body is responding so positively to such perverted touches and nasty words. She breathes harshly into the fabric of her own nightwear, her exhales kissing heat into Hongjoong’s palm.

“Ah,” Hongjoong whispers, hips rolling his cock into her armpit over and over again, “it feels—f-feels so good, noona.” He’s always had a weird thing for armpits. He’s wanted to see hers filled with cum after he fucks her there; he has always wanted to know what humiliation looks like on Seonghwa when she’s being used so obscenely like this. The smooth skin there glides deliciously against the underside of his cock even with the omission of some kind of lube, but Hongjoong has an idea of where to get that kind of wetness.

He tilts her head to the side with a gentle hand on her cheek, then plucks the thin dress from her mouth. It’s wet where it had made contact with her tongue, and drool spills out the corner of her lips as though it had nowhere to go this entire time.

“Ah, what a waste,” Hongjoong tells her, his thumb brushing up the spit before pressing it back into her mouth. She doesn’t close her mouth around the digit and lets him move his thumb around in her pool of saliva instead. “I really wanna put it in your mouth.”

Seonghwa flushes hard, as though no one has ever said something like that to her before. Hongjoong is happy to be the first. She lets him help her up on her elbow, torso twisting to accommodate both Hongjoong’s crotch in her face and San between her legs, still rubbing slow circles into her heat. She can feel the intense gaze San has on her, like he’s watching for every little expression she makes while touching her.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get over this kind of shyness. She’s too afraid of what might come out of her own mouth if she speaks, too embarrassed to initiate anything, and—honestly? A little disconcerted over how quick they move, and then suddenly slow as if time has stopped to allow them to play as long as they want with her.

It doesn’t matter, because they seem to know exactly what to give her. Her mouth stays closed until Hongjoong rubs the tip of his cock into her lips, jaw dropping open without needing to be told anything. It’s adorable, the way she closes her mouth over the head, sucking gently as if she’s never sucked cock before—or perhaps it’s been too long since she’s had someone in her mouth.

Her licking is kittenish, and it’s so hot only in the way she performs, big doe eyes staring up at Hongjoong as she gives a timid, little kiss to the tip of his dick before engulfing it only a quarter of the way down. A hand reaches into her hair to card through the strands tenderly just as San lifts her hips to pull her pajama pants off. She attempts a slight resistance, her hand coming down to grasp at San’s wrist as her mouth pops off of Hongjoong’s cock, but it’s easily removed with how strong San has become over the course of these past few months.

Hongjoong lets out a stuttered breath when he presses his cock back into her mouth, the wet and warm sponginess of the insides of her cheeks swallowing around so entirely he’s afraid he might come too soon. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he comments vulgarly, distinctly aware of how flustered she grows upon hearing these kinds of words. His retracts his hand only to brush through the front pieces of her hair, then gathers the strands near the back to give a gentle tug. “You look— ah, so… so good with your mouth full.”

She’s so distracted by Hongjoong’s words she hardly registers the hot breath over her underwear, but she flinches when a finger drags up the wet spot she’s accidentally made in the fabric.

“She’s so wet,” San says as though the topic of their conversation isn’t writhing underneath them. The pad of his index finger pokes down the middle, a shiny moisture left behind on his fingertip. “I bet she misses being touched like this. And your panties, noona—you must love pink a lot, right?”

They’re lacey and sheer, the kind that one normally wouldn’t wear unless they were hoping to flash it for someone cute. San wonders briefly if maybe she does have someone waiting for her phone call to come; waiting to find her in her bed.

It’s too bad she’s so preoccupied.

She hums around Hongjoong’s cock, the sound pitched and whiney, when San hooks a teasing finger underneath the side of her underwear to graze the wet fold of her labia. He tugs gently, watching with crazed eyes as her pussy drool drips with the stretch, then lets it snap back into place.

Hongjoong’s hand travels from her head down to one of her breasts to grab a handful of it, massaging and squeezing, then pinching at her nipple to pull a muffled cry from her.

Cold air meets her cunt, and she chokes around Hongjoong’s cock, surprised to find that San has tugged her panties to the side to reveal her most intimate area to their hungry eyes. Her abdomen tightens with how she clenches around nothing, a response to how exposed she feels, but San doesn’t watch for too long—not when he’s this hungry.

The sob she makes when the tip of his tongue licks a slow stripe from her opening up to her clit is both needy and disobedient, the sass dripping from the sound in a way that’s so familiar to the two boys when she’s in disapproval of something, like when they don’t dry their hands on towels after washing them, or when they forget to turn the TV off after they’re done playing games.

San doesn’t let her pull away, a big, strong hand pressing imprints into the meat of her thigh as he holds her still while repeating the same motion. The touch of his tongue is gentle, light enough to tease and provoke, but persuasive enough to have her craving for more.

It’s instinctual when she closes one leg in, San’s other hand being too busy holding her panties to the side, and she knocks her calf into the back of his head to prompt him closer. The drag of his flattened tongue against her pussy is euphoric, but it isn’t there for nearly enough time before he completely removes himself, pushing back against the bend of her leg.

Her panties rest back over her cunt as San massages it in, soaked with both her wetness and his spit, and she makes a little noise of complaint, cut off by the forward thrust of Hongjoong’s cock deeper into her mouth. There are suddenly hands in her hair, pulling and tugging, guiding her head closer and then away, and the tip of Hongjoong’s dick hits the back of her throat.

Seonghwa chokes, pulling away as a hand raises to her lips to cover her coughing. “That—that’s too—deep,” she speaks in between her coughing, her eyes tearing up at their corners.

San hooks two fingers over her underwear to pull them off completely before tossing them somewhere behind him. He can’t care less where they end up, not when she’s open and bare in front of him like this. Her cunt is so pretty, the perfect type for stretching around a large cock. It glistens under the yellow glow of her bedroom light, and talks to them in a language that only they can understand. She wants to be eaten, licked and sucked and fucked until it’s sopping wet and swollen from abuse.

Hongjoong sounds like a kicked puppy when he speaks, “But noona, it feels really good…”

She glares up at him in slight contempt, then takes his cock by the base into her hand. “Fine, I’ll try it again.” It’s clear she’s never taken a cock that deep in her mouth before, and Hongjoong thinks it’s such a shame she’s never been used properly—never taken cock properly, especially with a face like that, and tits like that, eyes so pretty when they’re wet with tears that threaten to spill.

Her lips stretch over the head of his dick, and Hongjoong watches in amazement as he slides herself down on it slowly until he grazes the back of her throat, drawing a quiet hum from her as though she’s adjusting herself to the feeling.

At the same time, San’s head is back between her legs, hot breath fanning over the shiny moisture on her folds. He holds one of her legs up, his other hand pressing her other leg into the bed to keep her steady there before leaning forward to attach his lips to her clit. He sticks his tongue out to lap at the pussy drool at her entrance before flicking it upward to meet her clit, where he circles it gently.

Seonghwa’s thighs tremble at the feeling. How San can be so gentle and so dominant at the same time, she doesn’t know. There’s something about the attention they give her that makes her think that maybe this might not be their first time, but remembering the fact that they’re so young tells her otherwise. The reminder brings forth another wave of humiliation, her current predicament too embarrassing to want to think about again.

A woman in her late thirties, coaxed by two young men into opening her legs up for them with the promise of treating her right. Tears well up in her eyes as heat invades her senses at the understanding of her own situation, and they spill past her waterline when Hongjoong’s cock breaches her throat and San’s tongue presses past her opening to lick inside of her.

Despite that, it makes her so wet, and she can’t wrap her head around why.

“So pretty,” Hongjoong says just as a finger flicks up and down her entrance, the tip of it collecting wetness and catching at the muscles of her entrance with every swipe. Seonghwa’s attention is redirected back to Hongjoong’s face, who gazes down at her with such sweet and tender eyes despite the slightly crooked smile on his lips. “I bet you’ve never taken a real cock like this before. You’re so surprised by every little touch. Yeah, a-ah —look at you. You don’t even know how to suck it properly. Has everyone been a disappointment?”

Seonghwa whimpers at the words, her pretty, tearful eyes locking onto Hongjoong’s like there’s some desperation in there; a desire to prove herself despite the slightly degrading tone Hongjoong speaks with. She almost doesn’t recognize him, so drastically different from the boy she had just made dinner for.

She begins to suck in earnest, eyes squinting shut as she focuses on the heavy weight of Hongjoong’s cock dragging along the walls of her cheeks, gliding on her tongue, and resists the urge to gag every time it slightly violates the back of her throat.

“Ah,” Hongjoong coos with a hand petting the back of her head, “but you learn so quickly.”

The finger slips past her entrance and San buries it deep, the digit curling up and pressing into the softness there, and Seonghwa fears she might lose her mind. No man has ever given her such attentive touches, not in the way San crooks his fingers and rubs, not how Hongjoong cups her cheek and wipes a thumb at a tear near her eyes.

She holds her mouth open for Hongjoong to thrust into, her thighs trembling when San is pushing a second finger into her. It’s a little gross, the way her saliva collects in her opened mouth as Hongjoong’s cock slides into it and out again to spread the wetness across her lips, but she has no idea how erotic it all looks—how turned on they are by her pitiful expression and damp eyelashes. The wet click at the back of her throat mixes with the sounds of San’s humming and licking noises while he’s thrusting his fingers slowly, and then she’s tasting a bitter saltiness on her tongue as Hongjoong’s movements grow sloppier.

He pulls out quickly and sucks a breath in through his teeth, and Seonghwa had expected him to come, but he doesn’t. The confusion must show on her face, because Hongjoong is pressing his fingers into her shoulder to lay her onto her back again.

It’s filthier this time when Hongjoong fucks into her armpit. Her saliva coats his dick and assists with the glide against her sensitive skin there, and he makes sure he thrusts far enough for the tip of his dick to graze her glistening lips.

Still, it’s as embarrassing as it had been the first time. Seonghwa squeezes her eyes shut, the weird sensation mixing with San’s tongue flicking expertly around her clit, fingers pumping in and out of her to yield an odd combination of both shame and sickening pleasure.

“Open your mouth,” Hongjoong hisses, “and stick your tongue out. Yeah—yeah, noona, yeah, like that.”  

The head of his cock glides across her tongue as he rubs his length along her armpit. At the same time, San’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting a little faster, a little harder, and he fucks her right into a spot that has her toes curling, cries growing louder, and stomach clenching tighter. She doesn’t know what’s going on as the sensation builds up in her core, a terrifying feeling of needing release finding her too quickly to process.

Despite it, she keeps her tongue out like a dog, eyebrows scrunched as fear grips her by the throat, and when it gets too much, she chokes out a sob, a hand finally reaching down to grip at San’s hair forcefully.

“W-wait,” she begs and pulls at his hair, knees lifting to try to get away from the abuse her cunt has been taking, but San reaches for her thigh with his other hand, pressing it down into the sheets sternly. “Please! Something—there’s— ah! It feels—feels weird…!”

But San isn’t listening, so intent on thrusting his fingers into that spot while his tongue flutters over her clit, and Seonghwa can’t do anything—can’t go anywhere—except to take it. Her thighs ache against the authoritative hold he has on her.

“S-stop!” she calls out, but it’s too late, hot, disgusting shame firing up her spine as the bubble finally pops. She lets go completely, breath held tightly in her lungs as she squirts everywhere . Her entire body trembles as she screams and cries through it, splatters of juices landing on her tummy and dripping down the curves of her tits. The sound is downright filthy, squelching and wet as San cruelly fucks her through it until she has no more left to give.

Hongjoong groans, the sound guttural. “ Oh shit, I’m—ah, I’m gonna cum, f-fuck! ” he grunts out just as Seonghwa feels something hot splash into the pocket of her armpit. She jerks her arm, but Hongjoong holds her wrist above her head tightly, hissing through his own orgasm as he strokes his cock into the pool of cum there. It looks so good, the way Hongjoong has always fantasized about as his cum slips down the curve of her body and drips into the sheets.

Seonghwa doesn’t realize she’s sobbing until Hongjoong is resting his hands on her face and leaning down to kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, and it’s everything Seonghwa needs to get her erratic breathing from the intensity of what had just happened back to its normal pace.

She’s still not fully back by the time Hongjoong pulls away, but she still sniffles with a frantic look in her eyes while scrambling into a seated position, anxious eyes flicking back and forth between the two boys. San is dripping from his face down with her juices. She can’t believe what she’s just done. It’s all over his face and hair, droplets adorning his squared, frameless glasses, and it had darkened his white shirt with a sizable wet spot near his chest.

“I-I-I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what happened, I—”

“Noona, it was so hot,” Hongjoong shushes her quickly, like he’s afraid she might be mistaken. She looks so guilty, and yet he can’t help but to find the expression so adorable on her, especially because she thinks she’s made an unwanted mess.

San takes his glasses off, setting them off to the side before lifting the bottom half of his shirt to wipe at his face with the part that’s still dry, then he abolishes it completely to reveal toned muscles and golden skin, like he’s spent too much time in the sun with the absence of sunscreen. He drops back onto his hands and crawls closer, right into the wet spot she’s made on her own covers.

“Has anyone ever done that to you?” San questions and can’t help the pride that blossoms across his chest when she gives a timid shake of her head. His hand comes to rest on her hip, his palm flattened there to compare how small she is with San’s grip over her. “It was your first time?”

Seonghwa’s nervous when she responds. “I—I don’t know, I’ve never… never…”

San’s laugh is cute in the way it usually is, like when he giggles at his own silly joke, or when he beats Hongjoong and Wooyoung in a game on the Nintendo Switch with a hurray. “Did it feel good?”

She presses her hands to her mouth, shy with rosy cheeks, and is conscious of the way her armpit is still wet with Hongjoong’s cum there. “A-a little…”

“That’s a lie,” Hongjoong says with a frown, but then the corners of his lips curl upwards into something that can only mean trouble. “Maybe you need another one?”

Seonghwa shakes her head with a gasp. “I—I don’t think I can…!”

Except Hongjoong doesn’t really care too much about whether she can or can’t, because he’s stripping himself of the rest of his clothes before lying down onto his back next to her. “Come up here,” he invites and pats himself on the chest.

Confusion flickers on her features, head tilting slightly. “What—what do you… Where?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow twitches upward. “On my face.”

“T-there?” she asks, pointing a finger in the direction of his lips.

“Yeah,” he replies with a hand reaching for her arm. It’s unnecessary for Hongjoong to elaborate more, because she comes easily with the guidance of his light pull, and a shaky exhale leaves her lips when she finally cages Hongjoong in with thighs by his face, her cunt hovering right over his nose. His hand curls up behind her thighs as though they’ve always belonged there, fingertips pressing into the meaty flesh to pull her closer.

“You can sit,” he whispers when he feels the slight quiver in her legs.

“I-I can’t,” she responds equally as softly, her own hands gripping over the top of her headboard. “M-maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“You can, noona,” Hongjoong insists, forcing her down a little harder, but he’s met with strong resistance. She hasn’t realized the way San has crept up behind her, so when his hands meet her waist, it surprises a squeak out of her as she jolts forward, and Hongjoong takes this chance to get her fully seated on his face.

It must feel good, considering she now lacks the energy to pull herself back up, head dropping forwards with a whimpered moan. She succumbs to the ecstatic touch of Hongjoong’s tongue to her pussy lips with scrunched brows and an opened mouth, knuckles growing white from how tightly she squeezes around her headboard.

“Y-your glasses,” Seonghwa manages to pant out. Hongjoong pulls a hand out from underneath her before plucking his frames off his face. He allows her to take them before setting them on the nightstand next to them.

Seonghwa realizes she has rarely seen them without their spectacles. They’re always wearing them when they study, play games—everything. She’s known them with their glasses on their face from the very beginning. Now, without them, they both look older, and she can see more clearly the unadulterated lust they have in those inky pools of darkness.

Fuck, they look hot.

Hongjoong isn’t as nice as San had been when eating her out—he sucks harshly, teeth grazing against tender skin and tongue lapping messily over her folds. The sounds he makes sound filthier too, and it’s doing a lot to Seonghwa, having never heard something so obscenely filthy from between her legs before.

Her head tosses back to find San’s shoulder meeting the back of it, and as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking, he supports her with two strong hands, one at her waist and the other gripping at the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head. Black strands fall forward to cover part of her face, but she doesn’t care. How can she when she’s indulging herself so shamelessly, and they allow her to do so freely?

San has a beautiful view of her like this, of heavily lidded eyes, red lips, and long lashes. He can’t help it when he grabs her by the chin and tilts her face towards him to catch her in a bruising kiss. She makes little noises into his mouth, and San eats up every single one of them like a starved man—because he is starved. How long has he been waiting for something like this?

Something hard slides between her ass cheeks, and it doesn’t take longer than two seconds for Seonghwa to realize what it is. She’s only able to truly confirm it when San reaches forward to tug one of her arms down, fingers sliding to her wrist to bring her hand behind her. There, she meets a very solid cock.

Hongjoong tilts his head up for air, gasping with a slick-covered chin. “Oh my god,” he pants out, “I’ve always… always wanted to try that.”

At the sound of his voice, Seonghwa instinctively lifts her hips, head tilting down to meet the bliss on Hongjoong’s face. The boy peers up at her with dilated pupils, lips curved into a grin as if he’s saying hello. “Sixty-nine—c-can we try it?”

Seonghwa knows what that is. Everyone knows what that is. Still, she’s shy when she lifts one knee from its position, turning until she’s facing the other way—facing San. This time, she’s a little more confident when she sits back onto Hongjoong’s face, her clit bumping the tip of his nose when she drops to her elbows, hands resting on Hongjoong’s thighs.

Like this, it’s not only Hongjoong she must pay attention to. San’s cock stands tall and untouched, the tip leaking precum already, and Seonghwa swallows down the lump in her throat as she wraps her hand around Hongjoong’s semi-hard dick to jerk it back to its fullness.

She doesn’t understand how he can even keep going, but she supposes the youth have the vitality for it—and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she needs that for her hidden, insatiable needs.

San’s cock prods against her lips, and she willingly drops her mouth open to take him in. It almost feels gross, the way she had just squirted everywhere and has Hongjoong’s mouth back on her despite it all. The wet spot she’s created on her own bed covers is a stark reminder of just how much she had squirted, despite having never done that before. It feels like an orgasm, but not the same kind she usually gets from touching herself late into the night.

It almost feels like she can go again.

A flustered pink rests prettily on her cheeks as San moans at the feeling of his tip brushing against the back of her throat, and she peers up at him through long, curled lashes, puppy eyes squinting with every wet squelch that sounds from his languid thrusts, and San swears he almost sees desperation in those glistening eyes.

With a hand finding its way to the back of her head, his other one resting on her face, he gets himself to thrust a little deeper until she’s gagging softly, thighs clenching around Hongjoong’s head, but she doesn’t pull away, her gaze still on his.

She makes a muffled hum when Hongjoong sticks two fingers inside of her, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit, and San grows just a little more needy at the sudden vibrations on his cock. He accidentally thrusts too deep and she gags harder, a delicate hand lifted to press into San’s hipbone.

“S-sorry,” he says and only truly feels slightly bad about it.

Seonghwa takes her mouth off his cock just as Hongjoong thrusts his hips up. She sniffles while her hand jerks Hongjoong from the base of his dick to the top. “It’s okay,” she assures him quietly, “it feels good for you, right?”

San responds meekly, “Y-yes…”

Hongjoong rolls his hips again to hit her in the chin with his cock. She gets the hint and brings her attention to him, lips wrapping around him to suck lightly at it. A tinge of saltiness spreads across her tongue, a silent reminder that he had already come once. Her one arm is sticky where his cum had dribbled and dried, and it’s only a little bit uncomfortable if she thinks about it for too long.

She sucks Hongjoong down with both hands supporting herself on his thighs. San’s cock meets her cheek as he strokes himself with her residual spit to help with its glide, and when she pops off of Hongjoong’s dick, it slaps towards his abdomen, where her hand greets it to continue stroking it, then she takes San’s length back inside her mouth.

For a few minutes, she takes them both like this—with Hongjoong scissoring his fingers inside of her, tongue lapping at the slick coating her folds and making a mess of the insides of her thighs, and swapping between taking San’s cock and Hongjoong’s.

The way she’s so into it should be humiliating, the idea of needing two dicks to satisfy her, but she discovers she cares less and less about it as time goes on. At some point, the tension brewing in the pit of her stomach becomes too much, and desperately, with a sob, she pulls off of Hongjoong’s cock with a saliva coated chin, lips wet and eyes wetter.

“Please,” she whispers, shuddering at the darkened look suddenly in San’s eyes.

Hongjoong gives her ass a gentle smack before kneading it roughly to guide her off of him. He scoots up to lean his back into the headboard, legs spread and inviting as he takes his cock into his own hands.

San carefully navigates her backwards until she’s sitting on the backs of her heels, then further until she has her back pressed to Hongjoong’s torso, her head resting just below his chin.

This angle gives Hongjoong access to everything. He can grope her properly like this, can reach down to grip tightly over waist to prevent her from slipping further. He can see how San nudges closer, and can feel the quick, shaky breaths she takes against his chest—whether in anticipation or unreadiness despite her earlier begging.

Hongjoong’s foot hooks around an ankle, swinging her leg over his knee, and she suddenly has her hand over her privates as if spreading her legs for them is such a weighted sin. Hongjoong does the same with her other leg just as San closes a hand around her wrists.

“Why are you so shy now?” he asks, leaning down to meet her gaze, but Seonghwa has her head tilted away, a quivering lip taken between her teeth.

“I don’t know,” she squeaks, “it’s—it’s embarrassing…”

San pulls at her hands, then presses them into her chest where Hongjoong takes them with ease. “I thought you wanted it?” he speaks innocently and with a pout, his shoulders sinking with a sulk. “Not anymore?”

But the fear that suddenly grips her expression tells them everything they need to know—still, they want to hear her. They want to tease her, the same way she’s been teasing them for years.

“N-no, please,” Seonghwa whimpers, too flustered to be explicit with her words. San’s cock rests on her cunt, dragging slowly between her wet folds. She holds her breath at the sensation, so entranced by the expectation of penetration, she forgets about the necessity of condoms. He looks so big against her tummy, she doesn’t want to think about how all of it is going to fit inside of her.

“Please?” San repeats with a teasing inflection, the head of his cock catching at her entrance.

A whine falls pitifully from Seonghwa’s lips as she rolls her hips down into him, exhaling shakily when his cock pushes in just a bit deeper, but it’s still not enough. She clenches down on him, her frustrated gaze flicking up to meet San’s curious expression.

“W-why are you making me say it?” she asks, very obviously distressed. She feels like she’s walking a tightrope trying to not give in, and she fears she’s really close to losing it when Hongjoong begins to busy himself with a hand massaging at her breast.

“Because,” San starts, slipping his cock out to slide it against her pussy again, “your face is so cute when you’re embarrassed.” The way he says so is so gentle and sweet, and the whiplash Seonghwa gets from the delicious drag of his cock against her clit is intense.

She can’t say it—it’s so embarrassing. She’s never had to say anything even remotely close to what he’s asking for in her life; has never had to beg for anything, and believed herself to never be placed in a predicament where she may have to. Her vision grows wetter as desperation, desire, and her dignity fight a war inside of her mind.

“Don’t cry,” Hongjoong tells her then presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You just have to tell us what you want.”

She fights back with sniffles. “You already know what I want! Please, d-don’t make me say it,” she whispers with a cry while struggling against Hongjoong’s hold on her.

“Say it,” Hongjoong says, this time with a sharper edge in his tone. “Tell Sannie how you want it. Do you want him to fuck you? Is that it? Slow? Fast? Hard?”

“We promised we’d be good for you, but how can we if we don’t know what you want?” San asserts persistently. He slips the head of his cock back in to feel her clench needily around him, then pulls back out.

“Oh, my god,” she whimpers, thighs quivering on top of Hongjoong’s. She watches vigilantly at the tiny bit of penetration her pussy takes, over and over again, and feels this an earthquake inside of her, heat and shame and hopelessness clawing at her throat as a vehement desperation finally takes over.

“Please,” she begs, tears finally falling in earnest. “I want it so bad. C-can’t you give it to me?” It’s all she can attempt to say, but it seems to work because San sucks a breath in so sharp her gaze is drawn away from where they’re connected, only to toss her head back with a punched moan when San buries himself all the way in. She’s so wet he doesn’t take longer than a second to start thrusting, pulling out only to drive his cock inside deeper and deeper.

San leans into her, bangs falling across his forehead. “You were so cute, I—I couldn’t help it,” he pants out hotly against the corner of her lips.

Seonghwa feels like she’s losing her mind. She’s never been on the receiving end of so many compliments, not this consistently, and definitely not while having sex. Her moans echo the way San thrusts his hips, every little sound cutting off into the next one, and she turns her head slightly to catch San’s lips in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, too embarrassed to listen to the filthy noises her own soaking pussy makes.

San leans back and takes a hold of both her legs, hands resting at the bend to push them back into her chest. He has always wanted to test her flexibility like this, and he’s amazed at the way he’s met with little resistance. He holds them together, hips slamming into her asscheeks with the intention to make her squirt again.

It doesn’t take long, telltale signs of what’s come in the way her moans turn into squeaks, louder and louder, and the wet squelching from her cunt more and more obscene with every thrust upwards into her spot.

“I—I can’t!” she gasps out, but Hongjoong muffles her words with his hand cupped over her mouth as she screams a sob into it, squirting all over San’s dick. The juices splatter against him with every deep thrust he gives, the sounds so filthy and wet and delicious, and he finally pulls out just in time to watch her convulse, hips squirming from the onslaught of heavenly abuse her body takes. She’s still squirting with every jerk of her body as she breathes harshly into Hongjoong’s palm, then whimpers when San inserts his cock back inside the wet mess she’s made down there.

She can’t help herself when she reaches a hand down to rub a finger over her clit, desperate to finally come. Even after making this big of a mess, she wants more, and it just feels so good to touch herself there after squirting. She’s never felt it this intensely before, the desire to reach an orgasm so strong it has her sobbing because she can’t get it right.

San shushes her with a soft kiss to her forehead, then takes her hand to the side, denying her the touch. She whimpers pathetically, but San replaces it with his own before rubbing slow, gentle circles into her clit.

“A-ah, Sannie, please— ah! A l-little bit… faster,” she speaks, words slightly slurred. She’s close, so, so close, especially when San’s motions pick up, his rhythm quicker but steady.

“Better?” he asks, eyes searching her expression with such sincerity it makes her shy.

She lowers her gaze and nods, then lets her eyes squeeze closed as the feeling deep in her abdomen grows exponentially with the way San fucks her like all he wants is to make her come, his thumb rubbing her so perfectly. She focuses on finding it; on reaching that paradise, and when it’s so near she starts to see colours behind closed eyelids, she rambles, “Y-yes, c-close— close, closeclose!”

When she comes, it’s with a full body shudder, legs clamping down so tightly around San’s waist it almost hurts, but he lets her have this moment, his thrusts slowing down slightly to help her ride through it comfortably.

She’s so exhausted following it, chest heaving intensely and head lolling back onto Hongjoong’s shoulder, he almost feels bad when he starts thrusting again, but her gentle moaning almost sounds to be encouragement.

How can San stop when she’s so damn sweet? He drops her legs back to their original position and flattens a hand over her tummy, hissing at the size comparison of it and her tiny waist. When he fucks her deep, he can feel how he stretches her, and the thought of her being able to take him so well makes him delirious.

Seonghwa’s blown pupils travel back down to where they’re connected, but she can’t miss the way her secretions drip down the toned muscles on San’s abdomen. She doesn’t feel bad about it for too long, only because San is pulling out and Hongjoong lifts her up just enough to slip further underneath her. Her cunt lands directly on top of Hongjoong’s solid length, and this time she takes matters into her own shaky hands, lifting her hips up to guide his cock into her, but the moment it’s in, Hongjoong sets a brutal pace, punching a choked gasp out of her lungs as she falls backwards into Hongjoong’s embrace.

It’s so embarrassing, the position—it feels as though she’s putting on a show for San, whose gaze has zeroed in on the way Hongjoong’s cock thrusts rapidly in and out of her swollen pussy. She has nowhere to go, trapped completely in Hongjoong’s arms as she bounces with every movement of his hips.

San stalks closer, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. Seonghwa doesn’t know what’s happening until Hongjoong pulls his cock out just enough for it to be hovering near her entrance, but then San’s cock is slipping inside. They take turns fucking into her like this, and it’s so hot and so disgusting at the same time taking two cocks like this, Seonghwa almost feels guilty for how close she is when Hongjoong’s hand starts rubbing her clit through his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong curses, his voice strained as his pace quickens, balls slapping up into Seonghwa’s ass cheeks, “fuck, fuck, I—I’m gonna cum.”

Seonghwa’s words are intelligible from how forcefully Hongjoong clamps down on her mouth, and she pleads with San with wild, distraught eyes. He doesn’t fully register what she’s trying to say, but the way she squirms and struggles and sobs is telling, and it drives Hongjoong right over the edge, his hips stuttering with a shaky whine falling from his lips as he shoots his seed deep inside of her.

When Hongjoong finally relaxes a little, Seonghwa peels his hand off her mouth, panting fervently as she scrambles forward onto her hands. “W-why would you do that…?” she asks with mild irritation. She sits up on her knees, hand reaching between her thighs. It’s slimy and wet when she runs her fingers over her puffy cunt, and her attention is so taken wholly by the cum dripping onto her hands and down her thighs, she doesn’t notice the way San and Hongjoong have swapped places.

A yelp leaves her lips when someone pushes her forward, causing her to collapse face first onto her chest into the cold, wet spot she’s created from earlier. San lines his cock up with her abused hole, gathering Hongjoong’s cum on it before slowly pressing inside again.

“W-what are you doing?” she gasps out, but San thrusts so deep into her it takes all the air from her lungs, pushing her along the covers.

“Sorry, noona,” San confesses with sweet moans falling from his lips. “I couldn’t help it, a-ah, I—I wanna come inside you too.” The pace he sets is ruthless, like he’s also desperate to fuck his own cum into her.

The glide is so wet and smooth from Hongjoong’s cum, it’s filthy, and Seonghwa can’t help but feel so used, as if she’s nothing but an object . The thought of so much cum being fucked inside of her, smothering her walls and pressing against her cervix shouldn’t turn her on so much but it does.

She can’t believe she had forgotten to tell them to use condoms. Her mind had been so all over the place, it had completely slipped her mind, and now San is fucking Hongjoong’s cum back inside of her and pushing it deeper, coating her insides with the intention to come inside of her as well.

Her muffles are softened by the bed covers in her face as the humiliating sounds of squelching reach her own ears. Hongjoong’s cum squeezes out around San’s cock, dripping down the insides of her thighs and onto the bedsheets under her disgustingly, but the slide against her walls is so good. She’s never used cum as lube before, but the slippery glide it provides is so divine, it has her eyes rolling into the back of her head. San reaches places so deep she can feel it in her throat.

San peers down at her through lidded eyes, bangs matted to his forehead with how hot it’s gotten inside her room as he grabs her hips tight enough to leave little red imprints behind. She looks like she’s given in to the gratification. Either way, what can she do? It’s too late now—she might as well take another load.

“Ah,” San moans, “a-ah, I’m close, I’m—really, really close, noona. Can—can I do it inside? I really wanna…”

Seonghwa turns her head just enough to peer at San past the curve of her shoulder, and based on the expression that San wears, she doubts he’ll listen; doubts he’ll even hear her no matter what she says. He looks like he’s almost there, dark eyes staring down at the way her pussy lips stretch around his cock.

Instead, she presses her ass back into his thrusts, and the tip of his cock hits her so deeply it almost hurts, but in a way that feels incredible. Seonghwa chokes out a moan, body tensing and walls clenching down tightly, and then San is chanting out little ah, ah, ah’s, slurring, “N-noona, noona! F-feels so… so good…!”

Warmth fills Seonghwa up inside, and she can feel the way San’s cock stills inside of her, twitching as his cum spills out of her hole. When Seonghwa looks at him, she finds that he’s still watching her there, like he can’t get enough of the way her pussy lips looks around him. He pulls out slowly before giving an experimental, shallow thrust.

“S-San,” Seonghwa gasps out, a hand reaching behind her to push at his thigh, “that’s—that’s enough.”

But San shakes his head and presses his hips flush to her cheeks, desperate to keep his cock plugged inside her. “No,” he tells her, leaning forward and rolling his hips, humping into her, “a-again—I can go again.”

Seonghwa’s face twists with incredulity. “Are you serious? You—you just came!”

San takes her in by the waist, pulling her up onto her knees. “Noona, please,” he begs, his cock slipping out part way before he thrusts back inside. Seonghwa’s entire body tenses, disbelief flooding her body as their cum drips out of her. There’s so much of it slipping out of her hole she almost doesn’t accept it at first.

“H-how?” she asks, legs quivering. There’s no way any normal person is ready to go again in less than a minute. Most people don’t even have the capacity to go for a second round.

Hongjoong appears in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks to soften her anxious expression. “We told you we wouldn’t disappoint,” he whispers, and Seonghwa senses some snark and ego in his words.

San reaches around her to grab at her wrists, bringing them behind her back.

Seonghwa looks Hongjoong in the eyes when she says, “I still haven’t forgiven you for— ah!”

San’s thrusts are sharp and angled straight, and it effectively chokes Seonghwa out of the rest of her words. Hongjoong’s smile is almost sadistic, and she’s forced to peer right into his eyes as he leans in close, hands still gripping her jaw.

“For what?” Hongjoong croons. “Coming inside of you? I’m really sorry. I forgot.”

It’s as easy as that, because Seonghwa had simply forgotten too. Her cheeks flush embarrassingly red from the words Hongjoong had spoken to her, and she doesn’t know how to act with the way the other boy stares so intensely down at her.

“S-stop staring,” Seonghwa whimpers, but Hongjoong pulls away to sit back onto his ankles, just enough to watch her tits bounce while San fucks her. It’s impossible to pull away, not when San’s stronger than her, and not when she lacks the energy and spirit to fight against it. Instead, he lets her be used like this, tugged back on his cock to meet the harsh slap of his hips, and bows her head in shame while Hongjoong observes them.

His hands close down on her tits, squishing them together. Seonghwa’s head jerks up, vision hazy and lips wet with the drool that has dribbled from the corners of her lips. Hongjoong’s head tilts, his eyes trained on the way her breasts squeeze under the manipulation of his groping fingers.

“I wanna fuck your tits,” Hongjoong admits shamelessly, ogling at the ripples through her breasts as they swing. His palms brush gently over her nipples, so sensitive now that she’s come once already. He peeks around her at San, “Let me fuck her tits.”

It’s baffling, how Hongjoong skips her to ask San instead for permission. She looks back past her shoulder at him, whose thrusts have slowed down, then back at Hongjoong.

San slips his cock out, then releases her arms one by one. She’s back on her hands and knees, and she feels so weak she’s afraid she might give out. They must be able to tell, because Hongjoong gently guides her onto her back again, this time with him trapping her body in with his thighs.

Seonghwa doesn’t bother questioning how Hongjoong is hard for the third time, even though it’s just as preposterous. She’s too exhausted to think properly, head falling into her pillows as she gazes up at Hongjoong with lidded eyes.

Like she already knows what she has to do, her hands come up to push her own breasts into each other the way Hongjoong had done earlier, and maybe she’s not doing it on purpose, but the look she gives him is so erotic and sensual, Hongjoong feels his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

He presses down on his cock with a thumb and dips the head of it into the enclosed space she’s created. Her tits are so big she hardly has to try in order to massage the rest of it down Hongjoong’s length. The way they squish over his cock is decadent, soft and supple skin gliding up and down on him. It doesn’t feel like anything too crazy, but the vision is enthralling. It’s mind blowing, watching her like this; she bewitches him with her sultry gaze, forearms pressing her chest together tightly, and Hongjoong’s cock disappearing in between those mounds enchants him enough to want to sear the image into his mind forever.

It’s worse when Seonghwa sticks her tongue out. Hongjoong’s moans are shaky, like he can’t believe she’s doing it willingly, and he hisses when the tip of his cock brushes against the wet muscle.

There’s some shuffling behind him but Hongjoong pays little attention to it. He’s only drawn away from his wet-dream-come-to-life by a yelp Seonghwa makes, a violent jerking of her body knocking Hongjoong higher up on his knees.

Hongjoong looks behind him just as Seonghwa laments, “What are you doing?”

“Why?” Hongjoong asks, confused.

“What?” San questions from directly behind him, Seonghwa’s knees trapping him in. “Have you never had anyone touch you there?”

Hongjoong understands now. The irritation in the slight twitch of Seonghwa’s eyebrows paired with the dark red flush on her cheeks that hadn’t been there earlier—it doesn’t take long for him to understand what San is talking about. He swivels his head back to look at Seonghwa’s face, apprehension evident in her features.

“No— no! It’s—it’s dirty there…” she speaks, shying away from the topic of conversation. It seems as though she isn’t really good with words, not when it concerns sex. It’s endearing, the way she’s this woman nearing her forties who’s never had anyone to show her how good sex can be when they do it all, and the only two wanting to give it to her the right way are them.

“I promise we can make it feel good,” San coaxes stubbornly, his hand sprawled on her tummy. He lets his fingers trace patterns into her skin there, the touch enticing despite her not being able to see it, before he drags them down lower to rest on the folds of her pussy lips.

Seonghwa’s melts into the touch, her uncertainty giving way to defeat. Still, she holds onto some of that reluctance as she murmurs out a stammer, “I-I’ve never done it before.”

Hongjoong’s face softens at her words as he leans down to kiss her on her cheek. “You’ve never done a lot of things until today, noona,” he breathes hotly into her skin. “What’s one more?”

She squirms as San grazes a dry finger at her hole, clenching down in hesitancy. “Won’t it… won’t it hurt?”

A bright grin cracks across Hongjoong’s lips. “It won’t if we do it right. Do you have lube?”

“U-um,” Seonghwa stutters, scrambling onto her elbows as she looks in the direction of her vanity.

“There?” Hongjoong asks with a pointed index finger. “We can go get it.”

“Wait, what do you mean if you—if you do it right? Have you never done this before…?” she continues to question, but Hongjoong laughs lightly as though he finds humour in her concern.

The bed dips with San’s weight when he comes back with the bottle of lube, and it looks like it’s barely been used—barely been touched. Hongjoong wonders how long it’s been sitting in the drawer of her vanity while caressing a hand into the side of her face, fingers curling into her hair.

“Of course we’ve never done this. Didn’t you know we were virgins?”

Seonghwa’s jaw drops. “What…?”

Hongjoong sucks a breath through his teeth, head tilting to one side with furrowed eyebrows. He speaks innocently, “Huh. Did you really not know?”

Seonghwa sits up straighter despite San finding his original place between her legs again. “No, I didn’t know! Y-you two…” She lifts her hands to her face, a mixture of anger and embarrassment meeting in the middle to create the expression she wears. “Oh my goodness, I—do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

Does Seonghwa have any idea what she’s done?

San presses a hand into her chest to lay her back down. “What did we do?” he asks, his voice gentler than it has ever been tonight. “Didn’t we make you feel good? Isn’t it what you wanted? Why—do you regret it?”

Hongjoong blinks as a growing understanding sets in. “What, are you surprised or something? Because you’re forty and letting us hit?”

Seonghwa gasps, disbelief colouring her face as though she’s been slapped. “How—how can you say that to me?”

Curiously, Hongjoong leans down into her until his face is an inch away from hers, the tips of their noses nearly brushing against each other. He tests the waters slowly, “Is it embarrassing?” His gaze slides down the slope of her nose to her lips before flicking back up. “That no one has been able to pleasure you the way we can? Did it feel so good, it made you feel guilty when you found out we were virgins?”

Seonghwa’s hands cup over one another on her lips, and her fingers tremble weakly where they hover. With more courage this time, Hongjoong reaches for her breast, his thumb circling her tender nipple.

“You’re so pitiful,” he coos, a pretentious pout sitting on his lips. Seonghwa’s eyes glisten with moisture at his words. “You waited so long for us. Poor thing. Noona took our virginities because no one else could give her what she wanted.”

“T-touch me,” she whispers quickly, a tear slipping past her waterline as it drips down to her temple.

Hongjoong’s lips curl as though he had expected it. He brushes the tear away while tracing his hand down to her clit, swollen but full of life.

Something cold skims her asshole, and she flinches just a little at the touch, but not away from it. She breathes deeply, hands coming down to grip tightly to Hongjoong’s shoulders.

“A-are you sure?” she asks, slightly panicked. “It’s dirty there, I don’t—I don’t know if we—”

“Be quiet,” Hongjoong mumbles into her jaw, then presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss there. “It’s not. Noona could never be dirty.”

“I promise it’ll feel so good, noona,” San comforts her soothingly. He circles his finger around her rim before slowly pressing inside to test the resistance.

Seonghwa sucks in a sharp breath at the penetration, the sensation so foreign she doesn’t know what to make of it. It doesn’t feel good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. San hardly has it down to the first knuckle before he’s thrusting just the tip of his finger shallowly.

When she relaxes a little bit, he pushes the finger deeper inside, little by little. The grip she has over Hongjoong’s shoulders is tight, her knuckles turning white and thighs trembling despite the support she has with her feet planted on the bed.

It comes as a surprise to all of them when Seonghwa says she’s ready for more after a minute. San had been expecting to be there fingering her open for a while, and while he really would have enjoyed that, he can’t help but feel the way Seonghwa is rushed when she begs for it.

The second finger is wet as well when it prods at her entrance, and it’s a bit of a stretch when it finally breaches that tight ring of muscles, but Seonghwa is more familiar with the touch now. She calms herself down with steady breathing and tells herself she’ll listen to them; she trusts them enough to really believe it’ll feel good eventually.

“You’re doing so well, noona,” Hongjoong tells her while littering kisses all over her neck. It’s salty with sweat when he grazes his tongue against her skin, but he doesn’t care. In fact, he loves it, and he shows her by sinking his teeth gently against the supple skin.

He continues, “You know you deserve this so much, right? We aren’t doing this for you just because we want to. N-not saying we don’t want to, but—we’re the only ones who know how to make you feel this good. You know that, right?”

Seonghwa softens like butter under his praise. She didn’t know Hongjoong could be so sweet with words. He had just clocked her on how much she liked the humiliation earlier—something even she didn’t know about herself until tonight—but is he saying all these things because he knows she likes this too?

She wishes she had the energy to think about it more, but San is pushing three fingers into her now, and the stretch is beginning to feel really weird—until he crooks his fingers up. The pleasure doesn’t feel as strongly as it did inside her vagina, but the pressure is enough for her to still feel it—for it to still feel good.

Her reaction appears to be the one they’re looking for, because San doesn’t stop driving his fingers into that spot. Seonghwa’s breathing picks up, stomach twisting deliciously as the pressure builds like it had before, but she still can’t get used to it—this force that threatens to erupt, the feeling of needing to pee. It’s so embarrassing she doesn’t understand why it even feels so good.

“S-San,” she whimpers, her thighs trembling being the first warning sign, her hands flailing around looking for something to grasp onto a bigger indication of what’s to come.

“Noona,” Hongjoong whispers, his own hand finding her tummy to press down on it, “are you gonna squirt again?”

Seonghwa’s clasps a hand around Hongjoong’s wrist, the look in her eyes frenzied when they meet Hongjoong. “W-why are you doing that? S-stop…!”

It’s worse when Hongjoong pushes harder, the tension that’s been built up feeling like it’s going to explode, and it really does when San leans forward to close his mouth around her pussy.

It’s the third time she squirts, and it’s still as intense as the first time. She sobs into the back of her hand, mindless, muffled blabbering spilling from her lips as her entire body shakes from it.

Seonghwa isn’t given much time to come down from her orgasm—she doesn’t even know if it can be considered an orgasm because it doesn’t feel the same —before she’s being manhandled by two pairs of hands on her frame. It’s all so good nonetheless, she can’t care too much about if she’s right or not.

She finds herself straddling Hongjoong, her two palms splayed across his chest as he lays beneath her with a little grin reflecting on his face. Her pussy lips slide wetly along his length when she grinds down on it, her juices coating his cock before he’s reaching between them and guiding her up with a hand on her waist to direct his cock into her pulsating heat.

The glide is smooth when he shoves his cock all the way in—it should’ve been too much considering how long they’ve been fucking her for, but it still feels so good when it hits deep, causing her to clench her thighs around his hips.

She’s still familiar with her other hole being used when San drags his fingers along her beautiful curve of her crack, but she doesn’t consider what it is they’ve been preparing her for until San is slipping a finger inside again.

Her voice isn’t working and her mouth isn’t cooperating with her when San pulls his fingers out to replace it with the tip of his cock instead. She wants to ask them: is this really okay? She had never even considered the possibility of taking a cock back there, never mind two cocks at once, but nothing comes out of her mouth except for a choked, gaspy moan when the stretch of it becomes too much as San inches himself inside her alongside Hongjoong’s cock in her pussy.

Seonghwa collapses forward, her holes clenching down around the both of them as more sweat gathers on her forehead, stands of her hair damp when they stick to the sides of her face. She doesn’t even want to think about how she looks right now, head hung low and arms trembling where they’ve been supporting her.

She can’t believe it—she’s taking them both at the same time. It’s terrible to think about, but it turns her on so disgustingly much it overrides every other emotion inside of her. The pleasure is out of this world, and she’s never felt it so intensely from being this full.

It’s too much—it really is. The shallow thrusting of Hongjoong’s cock inside of her pussy is mind numbing, but San’s slow roll of his hips brings her back to life. He must’ve coated himself with lube because the stretch doesn’t sting as much as Seonghwa expected it to, and it does feel a little weird until San completely bottoms out inside of her.

“T-too much,” she manages to say, her fingernails digging into Hongjoong’s flesh. They leave tiny, crescent-shaped indents when she lets go to move her hands further up to the spot in the pillows next to his head.

She feels so full, pussy stuffed and asshole filled, but it feels so good it brings tears to her eyes. The humiliation from Hongjoong’s earlier words settle in as San slides his cock out languidly, only to thrust back in with a sharp snap of his hips because he’s right —Seonghwa has been so unbelievably deprived of all of this ever since she had divorced her husband, she’s missed out on so much it makes little sense for a woman of her caliber.

She knows she’s pretty. She knows she looks incredibly young for her age. She knows many men look at her but have never interested her enough to seek out anything more than a few exchanges of words, but for it to be two young men of her son’s age to give all of this to her? It’s impossible to think of.

“Feel good?” Hongjoong asks from beneath her, but his voice is as strained and as breathless as she fears hers might be. He tries to hold onto this control that he thinks he has, but in reality—he’s losing himself too.

Seonghwa looks so fucking hot like this, eyebrows scrunched up and cheeks moistened with tears of pleasure as she tries to figure out why she’s enjoying this so much. Hongjoong can’t stop staring at her, and he also can’t help himself when he rocks his hips up into her, punching a choked sob from her lips.

There is no rhythm at first, but when Hongjoong and San find it together, it brings euphoria to all three of them. She’s so impossibly tight, Hongjoong is afraid he might cum if he focuses too much on how intoxicating it feels to have such an intense heat around his cock, and San grips her so greedily around her fleshy hips, he might be feeling it too.

San does feel the same way. It’s so good, the way she sits there, letting them guide their cocks in and out of her holes as though she’s nothing but a doll for them to use.

“So good,” San pants out while watching his cock disappear between her cheeks. “Y-you’re so good, noona—d-doing so, so good for us, ah.” It’s everything that San has alway wanted; it’s his dirtiest, filthiest fantasies come to life, and not just with any woman.

This is Park Seonghwa, and it’s her face that he imagines on every woman he sees behind closed eyelids when he falls into bed with a moan choked from the back of his throat and a hand wrapped around his dick.

The drag of their cocks is so good, Seonghwa thinks she’s really losing her mind this time. Never in her life did she think she could feel so blissed during sex, so full, and so sinfully desperate for another orgasm. It builds faster than it did before, the pressure in her tummy leading a stray hand between her legs to rub hopelessly at her clit while she sobs with curled toes and tense shoulders.

“Please, pleaseplease,” she chokes out, begging to no one in particular. The wet sounds her holes make are so disgustingly filthy when it’s all that she can hear aside from the harshness of her own breathing, but focusing on it brings her closer and closer to her peak, and San and Hongjoong’s thrusting grow quicker, hitting her in places she never thought were possible to reach.

When she comes, she’s squirting too, and she can feel the hot liquid splash into the palm of her hand while she rubs herself vigorously through it. The wetness drips down thighs, coating Hongjoong’s cock in her juices when he pulls out only to slam back in with a guttural moan.

It’s so embarrassing, the way her pussy squelches louder from how messily wet she’s made herself, but Seonghwa’s brain is so muddled from how hard she comes it blanks out completely. If anything, the stimulation is starting to become too much, their thrusts so hard it knocks her forward, her face planting into the space next to Hongjoong’s neck in the pillow.

“T-too much,” is all that she manages to get out as San’s bruising fingertips grip the flesh of her hips harder as though he cares little about what she has to say. Seonghwa whimpers pathetically, her body growing limp in their hands, and she clenches down in an effort to try and relay her message differently.

It has little effect though, as both San and Hongjoong seem to have forgotten where they are now that they’re chasing another orgasm. Her little moans and sobs are punctuated brokenly from how she takes the brutal thrusting into her holes, and somewhere in the back of her sex-drunken mind, she wonders how she even kept up with them at all tonight.

“Noona, I’m gonna come,” San grits out, his hands having travelled down to her ass cheeks to grip them apart with two strong thumbs. He’s so obsessed with the image of his cock sliding in and out of her abused hole, and the vision brings him right over the edge, his cum spilling deep into her hole. He pulls out just in time for a few spurts to land over the pink globes of her ass. His cum drips from her gaping hole, sloppily clenching around nothing now that he’s dragging the head of his cock against her thigh to clean the cum off himself.

Hongjoong pulls out of her just in time to cum right over her pussy lips, the tip of his cock buried between her folds as he dips it back inside to ensure her greedy hole takes some of it inside despite having already taken two loads in there. He jerks his cock in a few quick successions, cum dripping down his length down to his balls.

Seonghwa is placid aside from the heaving of her chest as she lays sprawled across Hongjoong’s torso. Her breasts squish into his chest, and he can’t help but to reach a hand up to her arm, bent and splayed above them.

A warm, wet muscle licks into Seonghwa’s armpit and she makes a small noise of surprise at it, head turning away from the pillow to find Hongjoong staring into her eyes as he flattens his tongue into the crook of her armpit.

Her black hair is a mess over her face now, but she’s too lazy to fix it as she huffs. She sounds genuinely puzzled when she asks, drained with her eyebrows scrunching and a shake of her head, “Why?”

Hongjoong grins cheekily, tongue back in his mouth now. “I don’t know. It’s hot.”

She flusters easily with those words, a groan falling from her lips, half muffled after she turns her head away. The springs of her mattress dip and raise when San gets off the bed to look for towels, and Hongjoong takes it as his cue to help her off of him and onto her back.

“We’re sorry we made a mess, noona,” Hongjoong tells her, body half supported by an arm under him when he turns to face her. She lays with the back of her hand pressed to her forehead, eyes closed like she’s taking a nap. Even though she’s naked, she rests like a princess, or maybe somewhat of a queen, with one leg propped up, foot by her knee, and her other hand lounging over her stomach.

Seonghwa peeks her eyes open just enough to catch Hongjoong’s half-apologetic gaze. “It’s okay,” she tells him. “You can stop calling me that now.”

Hongjoong’s head tilts. “Why? I like it. I know you like it too.”

“Are you crazy? You cannot call me that in front of Wooyoung-ie.”

“So, does that mean we can call you noona when he’s not around?” Hongjoong asks, laying the trap down. She looks at him incredulously, like she can’t believe this is the same person she’s supposed to have known for so many years.

San comes back with a couple wet towels and hands one to Hongjoong, who takes it into his hands with a quiet word of gratitude. She looks between the two of them, unsure of what they’re about to do when Hongjoong lifts one of her arms and presses the warm towel there.

It seems the surprises do not see an end. Never in her life has anyone helped her clean up after sex before, and San and Hongjoong do it so thoroughly and so tenderly. The touch is gentle over her lower portion, like they’re aware of how sore she is down there. San collects the cum in the folds of the towel.

For boys their age, who are supposed to be out exploring themselves, partying (not that she’s too fond of the idea), and doing everything most people do in their youth, they sure know how to take care of her.

And she’s almost forty. There’s a brief moment of silence that follows after she succumbs to her thoughts, and a searing heat spreads across her chest so fast it knocks the wind out of her, eyes blurring so fast it’s embarrassing when the tears fall.

“N-noona?” San asks, quickly reaching for his glasses and sitting up on his heels, and Seonghwa can make out the murky outline of him suddenly by her side, peering down at her. She says nothing as she sobs, hands raised to her eyes.

“W-what’s wrong?” Hongjoong worries. Concern laces their voices so evidently, Seonghwa can’t help but to cry a little harder, disappointment plaguing her sobs to the point where Hongjoong and San look at each other in fear, unsure of what to do.

Hongjoong reaches forward to take one of her hands into his, fingers slowly slipping into her palm to rub gently into. “Please tell us what’s wrong,” he tries, his voice soft and gentle. “D-do you want some water? Are you hungry?”

San has shoved her sheets off of her bed now since they’ve been soiled, and he finds her robe that’s been hung on one of the hooks on the back of her bedroom door—the one she’s always wearing around her house when they’re over late. It’s fluffy and soft and smells of strawberry milk-scented body lotion, and when San drapes it over her figure, she pulls it tightly to herself.

“Sorry,” she sniffles, then scoots up into a seated position. She hunches over her knees, shoulders curling in on herself. “It’s… it’s not your fault.”

Hongjoong and San gaze regretfully at her anyway.

She sniffles again, the back of her hand wiping gently at her cheeks. “I just… felt like I didn’t deserve it.” It sounds silly to her now that it’s coming out of her mouth, but she’s never been the type to shy away from a vulnerable conversation if the situation calls for it. Maybe it’s because she’s a mother.

San’s gasps quietly, and when Seonghwa peers over, something akin to confusion spells out his features, as though he’s a little offended.

“You deserve a lot more than you think,” Hongjoong tells her, both her hands now in his. He squeezes gently like she’s delicately crafted. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

“Noona, do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this with you?” San asks, his words coming out slightly rushed as though he has so much more to say. He scoots a little closer, bent to look at her at eye-level. “And—and if it helps, I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone else before. It was only you, I promise!”

The way he speaks so animatedly is endearing, and Seonghwa’s lips curl into a sad, little smile.

“M-me too!” Hongjoong exclaims. “You’re the only one I’ve ever looked at like this. A-as you know, we’re both t-technically… not very experienced, but we’ve never been interested in—y’know, doing it with anyone else, right, San?”

“That’s right,” San nods optimistically. The towel has gone cold in his hands, but he still grips onto it tightly, afraid she’ll misunderstand—afraid she’ll wallow further in the frustrating thoughts in her mind.

Seonghwa looks between the two of them, shoulders sinking with their sweet words. She doesn’t know if she fully believes them yet, but it’s enough to placate her rapid heart. There’s something comforting about the way they give her a hundred per cent of their attention despite there being nothing sexual occurring.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay?” San asks.

Hongjoong pulls her robe further up her shoulders. “Let us help you clean you up a little more.”

She allows herself to sink into their consolation, and she shows little dissent when Hongjoong finds himself comfortable between her legs. San comes back with another warm towel while Hongjoong licks a slow, warm kiss up her folds with his tongue. It’s so light of a touch it’s hardly arousing, but it’s satiating in a way she’s never felt before.

It’s comparable to getting a relaxing massage, or coming home to everything being clean and spotless; it’s like drinking hot tea on the couch in a dark room, or waking up from a satisfying eight hours of sleep. Hongjoong’s tongue cleans her unhurriedly, taking his time eating her out as if he wants Seonghwa to forget about everything that’s darkened her mind.

His hand reaches up and finds the fabric of her robe at her stomach, but then a smaller hand slips into his own, and he laces their fingers together, his thumb brushing over soft skin and tongue running over swollen folds.

It’s romantic, the way Hongjoong kisses the prickly bit of skin before gliding his nose into the slick. Seonghwa’s moans are soft and pretty, a complete contrast to how she had sounded when they were having their way with her earlier.

The hot towel in San’s hands is reminiscent of those from massage parlours, the muscles in her traps relaxing with every little squeeze and rub as he washes her of sweat and everything dirty. She doesn’t think she can come anymore, too sensitive when Hongjoong’s tongue presses down gently onto her clit. Her legs twitch and her fingers squeeze over his hand, so he leaves it alone and suckles down on one of her folds, teeth grazing just the slightest bit. She’s so puffy down there, he thinks she’ll be sore for days.

A little apologetic about it, Hongjoong kisses his way up her stomach to her breasts. “Did you feel good today?”

Seonghwa is like putty when she answers, head lolling to one side to blink her eyes open at them both. “Yes,” and the smile she gives them is placid and unworried, and San and Hongjoong feel pride spread under their skin at how content she looks.

“Do you want a bath?” San asks, looking as though he’s ready to go into her washroom to run the hot water, but Seonghwa sits up with a yawn and shakes her head.

“No, not yet,” she replies, pulling her robe around her to slip it on properly. She seems a little back to normal, as she runs her fingers back into her hair to smooth it out. “I need to clean up.”

“We will help!” Hongjoong offers.

San asks, “Can we come over again soon?”

Seonghwa looks at them, but her expression doesn’t change until it softens suddenly with a small, tired giggle. “Do you need to ask? You didn’t even ask today.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong says, “you’re right. Um, s-sorry about that.”

“Plus, I need to go to the pharmacy,” she adds, legs swinging over the side of the bed as though she’s about to stand up, but Hongjoong jumps to his feet first, hand lifting to the air as though he’s still in a high school classroom trying to ask for permission to go use the washroom.

“I-I will go!” He scrambles around looking for his clothes, and San does the same. Suddenly, he pauses, one leg in his shorts. “Wait, why—why do you need to go to the pharmacy?”

Seonghwa cocks an eyebrow at them, unimpressed. “You came in me. Both of you,” she states flatly, a pointed finger swapping between San and Hongjoong.

Realization settles in afterwards, and then they’re rushing to get their clothes back on again. “Y-y-you’re right. Oh god, I didn’t—I didn’t even think about that,” Hongjoong mumbles to himself as he’s reaching for the door handle. “We’ll be right back!”

Seonghwa follows them out of her room and out into the living room, where they’re reaching for their backpacks, but she tells them to leave it before leading them into the kitchen. Still, they take their wallets anyway. Her purse is still sitting on the counter when she reaches into it to pull out some cash before handing it to San, who babbles a quick thank you and an apology.

Just as they’re about to head to the front door, a noise there makes all three of them jump out of their skin. They freeze, watching as the door handle jiggles with the chime of keys clanking against each other, and then it pops open. A familiar head peeks inside, and Seonghwa pulls her robe tighter around herself. The spot between her thighs is still moist despite the fact that they’d cleaned her earlier, but it must be because she’s standing now. She crosses one foot over the other, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“Oh! You’re still here?” Wooyoung smiles widely, the door shutting behind him. “You guys must’ve studied pretty hard. Sorry I couldn’t make it, but we’re still down for tomorrow, right? Here, again?”

San and Hongjoong nod enthusiastically, but they grow awkward when Wooyoung’s line of sight drops lower. San looks down.

Oh.

“Why is your shirt wet?”

San gulps. “Oh. I—um, yeah, I was just—I was—”

“He spilled water on himself,” Seonghwa helps after clearing her throat. It almost sounds like she’s trying to stifle a laugh, but she plays with off with another yawn. “I’m not feeling too well, Wooyoung-ie, so I asked them to go to the pharmacy for some medicine. It’ll close soon if they don’t go now.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, of—of course,” Wooyoung says, concern flashing across his features. “I’ll come with you guys!”

“No,” Seonghwa’s voice is stern when she speaks, “not you. You were out the whole night with your dad. Did you study at all? I hope you haven’t forgotten your exams are coming up soon. There’s still a little bit of time left, so you can—”

San and Hongjoong take it as their cue to slip out silently, and when the night air greets them both, it brings forth a sensation of refreshment and liveliness that doesn’t come easy to them at this time of night. At the bottom of the stairwell, San grips Hongjoong by the shoulders.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, staring wide-eyed at the other boy.

Hongjoong echoes, a grin cracking across his lips, “Holy shit.”

“That was incredible,” San breathes out, mildly aware of the cooling touch to his abdomen. He shakes Hongjoong a little. “I can’t believe we—oh god, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Hongjoong cackles out a laugh, turning to bring them on a steady pace down the street. “Me neither.”

“I think I love her.”

“What? No, you can’t say that,” Hongjoong says, and the expression on San’s face turns crestfallen until Hongjoong smirks. “Not without me.”

San scoffs, but the smile on his own lips is one that can’t be helped. He gives Hongjoong a light pack on the back. “Should we get her ice cream too?”

“Oh, I think that will be nice! Maybe for Wooyoung too. He’s gonna be sad we’re giving her special treatment,” Hongjoong hums thoughtfully.

“Dumbass, we technically are giving her special treatment.”

The snicker that leaves Hongjoong’s mouth is lighthearted. “I guess so, but it’s not like we can give Wooyoung that kinda treatment.”

San shrugs casually. “It’s not our fault we have a thing for MILFs. Well, I guess I’m just attracted to his mom.”

It’s true. Perhaps this whole time, San hasn’t been seeking anything out aside of what’s known only to him and the framed nightstand photo of him, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung when they had graduated high school together. Neither of them had lied when they said they had only ever wanted her in the way they had shown her today.

Maybe it’s an obsession disguised as love, as San had confessed, or maybe it’s a deep and dark desire that has overwritten their longing for things that most people their age yearn—and maybe it is a little unusual and inconceivable to everyone else, but to them, it makes sense.

It has only ever made sense this way, and to whom does it matter if it’s so?

The door is unlocked when they get back, a bag from the pharmacy hanging from San’s wrist and another one on Hongjoong’s, filled with ice cream and other treats. She hadn’t given them the money for the latter, but they didn’t mind fishing some change out of their wallets if it means it’ll make her happy.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung are sitting at the island counter when they enter. She has her glasses perched on her nose, and her hair looks so soft and healthy it’s a dead giveaway she’s showered already. Wooyoung looks up from his textbook.

“Is that from the convenience store?” Wooyoung asks Hongjoong while peering into the plastic bag as San discreetly passes the bag from the pharmacy over to Seonghwa. She mouths a thank you before leaving to her bedroom. San feels a little guilty that they couldn’t help her clean up before Wooyoung came home, but he promises himself that he’ll be a little more prepared next time.

If there’s a next time. He’s sure he and Hongjoong will find a way.

For the next ten minutes, they sit around the TV, with Seonghwa and Wooyoung on the couch and San and Hongjoong on the floor in front of them. She’s scooped ice cream out for everyone to enjoy while they watch some random show that’s been really popular lately on Netflix, true only by Wooyoung’s persistence.

San and Hongjoong had been right. The smile on her face really is worth the money spent on ice cream. They have a lot more to thank than just a sweet snack, though, like San’s guitar for being in her room, or even Wooyoung, who had asked to borrow it for something San can’t even recall anymore.

He feels a little ashamed when he thinks back to how bold he had been when Seonghwa confronted them about how they’d gone through her room without her permission, but everything melts away when Seonghwa grazes her foot up and down San’s back leisurely.

It’s something she likes to do to anyone sitting in front of her, a bit of an eccentric habit, if you will, so San is familiar with it, but this time, he can feel the intention behind it, and he’s given his confirmation in the form of a text message that arrives while he and Hongjoong are taking the last bus back home.

Come again next week?

Notes:

screaming crying throwing up im so sorry this one took so long the holidays literally had me by the THROAT i did not have time to work on this after starting it ugh ...... you guys are literally champs for waiting so long for me and i applaud u fr

i really hope the extra long pwp made up for it PLS ACCEPT MY APOLOGY NOW !!!!!!

ugh u guys had no idea how bad this fic had me .. had to take a breather so often cuz idk how i accidentally made seonghwa so hot .. poor milfy baby not properly fked like i wish i was san or hongjoong cuz i want seonghwa's delicious fat mommy milkers in my mouth too ,, like hunny let me show u a good time too... none of those men got a thing on me ong..

anyways have a happy horny merry day !! you can find me on twitter and bluesky !! i love yelling abt ateez and porn there HAHAHAHA reach out and let's be oomfies <3