wooyoungsub

[wooyoungsub]

“Cruising Altitude”

Wooyoung Soft Dom x Reader Sub | Plane Sex

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1465

Summary: On a dim overnight flight, tension builds between you and Wooyoung as subtle teasing beneath a shared blanket spirals into something far more illicit. With whispered filth and featherlight touches, he pushes you to the edge in your seat, coaxing silent submission as the thrill of public risk heightens every sensation. But he’s far from done.

Warnings: public sex, fingering, hand job, praise kink

Smut will begin underneath dividing line

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The plane had dimmed its lights for the overnight flight, and a soft hum filled the cabin. Most passengers were asleep, headphones in or heads leaning against windows. But you were wide awake. So was the man seated next to you. Wooyoung.

He had been teasing you since takeoff. The brush of his thigh against yours. Fingers ghosting over your arm under the shared blanket. The slow smirk when he caught you clenching your thighs. And now, his lips brushed your ear, voice low and syrupy.

“You're so needy, aren't you?” he whispered, his hand sliding under the blanket to rest just above your knee.

You didn’t answer, only bit your lip and nodded, cheeks hot. Wooyoung leaned back casually, making it look like nothing was happening. His fingers traveled upward slowly, exploring the inside of your thigh.

“Be quiet for me,” he murmured, slipping his hand between your legs, fingers cupping the damp heat of your underwear. “You don’t want anyone to know how good I make you feel, do you?”

You shook your head, pulse racing. His fingers slid past the fabric, dipping into your slick folds. A soft gasp slipped from your lips, and he gave your thigh a warning squeeze.

“Shhh,” he cooed, curling two fingers inside you, thumb circling your clit with featherlight pressure. “You can take it, baby.”

You gripped the armrest, your other hand hidden beneath the blanket, clutching his wrist. It was too much, too slow, too deep. The thrill of getting caught, the buzz of the plane, the scent of him so close, it all had your head spinning.

He leaned in again, lips pressing to your neck. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go. Just keep those pretty lips shut.”

And when you did, thighs trembling and mouth open in a silent cry, Wooyoung kissed your cheek so sweetly it made your heart ache.

“You’re such a good girl,” he whispered, fingers still buried inside you, not quite ready to let you rest.

Ten minutes later, your legs were still shaky when Wooyoung gave you that look, the one that said “you’re not done yet.” He rose from his seat slowly, stretching like he wasn’t planning something sinful, and disappeared down the narrow aisle toward the lavatory.

Thirty seconds passed before your phone buzzed in your hand. A text from him:

“Seatbelt sign’s off, baby. Come here.”

Your pulse skipped. Heart pounding, you slipped into the aisle, keeping your head down, and padded toward the back of the plane. No flight attendants in sight. The ding of the lavatory lock switching off came just as you reached the door.

It cracked open, just enough for his hand to reach out and grab your wrist, yanking you inside.

The door clicked shut behind you. The space was tiny, barely room to breathe, but Wooyoung didn’t waste a second. His hands were on your waist, spinning you to face the mirror above the sink. His eyes met yours in the reflection, dark, wild, but full of warmth.

“You listened so well out there,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Let me reward you properly.”

His fingers were already tugging at your waistband, slipping your pants down just enough. He nudged your legs apart, one hand steady on your hip while the other slipped between your thighs to feel how soaked you still were.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned softly, lips brushing your ear. “All for me?”

You nodded, breath shallow. “Only you.”

That earned you a soft growl. He guided himself against your entrance, teasing you with slow rolls of his hips until you were nearly crying.

“Please,” you whispered, grinding back against him. “I need you.”

“Say it louder,” he teased, pressing inside just a bit. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Woo.. please fuck me,” you gasped.

That was all he needed. He buried himself fully, one hand gripping the sink edge for balance, the other wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you in place. His thrusts were deep, controlled, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you as he whispered praise between panting breaths.

“So tight… fuck… doing so good, baby. So perfect for me.”

The mirror fogged, your bodies pressing together with every needy movement. His other hand slipped between your legs again, circling your clit just right, your whole body clenching as he pushed you closer.

“You gonna cum again?” he whispered.

“Yes—yes, please”

“Then give it to me.”

And you did. Biting his shoulder to muffle your moan, your whole body shaking as you came for him. He followed with a soft groan, spilling into you as he buried his face in your neck.

When the two of you finally caught your breath, he gently helped you clean up, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks as if he hadn’t just ruined you in a cramped plane bathroom.

“You good?” he whispered, zipping you up and smoothing your hair.

You nodded, dazed and glowing. “Best flight of my life.”

He smirked. “We’re not even halfway there.”

By the time you both made it back to your seats, your legs still felt like jelly. Your pulse hadn’t settled. Every step down the aisle was filled with the fear that someone knew what you had just done, and the thrill that maybe someone did.

You sank into your seat, cheeks flushed, eyes flicking over the darkened cabin. Wooyoung settled in beside you like he hadn’t just fucked you breathless in the lavatory. He leaned his head against the seat, tilting it just enough to look at you.

“Such a good girl back there,” he whispered, brushing his fingers across your thigh again beneath the shared blanket. “But I’m still hard.”

Your breath caught as you glanced down. Sure enough, there was a distinct bulge pressing against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“You can help me with that, right?” His voice was gentle, low. That tone that always made you melt. “Use those pretty hands for me?”

Your hand moved under the blanket without another word, slipping into his waistband. His cock was already leaking, hot and heavy against your palm. He inhaled sharply, hips lifting just a little as you wrapped your fingers around him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, head tilted back like he was just relaxing. “Nice and slow. Just like that.”

You stroked him deliberately, keeping your movements hidden beneath the blanket, your face the perfect mask of innocence for anyone passing by. But inside, your heart was racing.

“Don’t squeeze too hard,” he breathed. “You know how sensitive I get when I’m this turned on…”

You adjusted your grip, using your thumb to spread the precum over his tip. He let out a soft, stuttered sigh, biting his bottom lip.

“Faster. Just a little.”

You did as told, stroking him steadily now, your hand working him in rhythm as his hips shifted beneath the blanket. He was getting close you could feel the tension in his thighs, the way his hand gripped the armrest.

“Fuck, baby… gonna make a mess if you keep that up,” he groaned, voice low and tight. “Want me to cum in your hand? Right here?”

You nodded, eyes wide. That earned you a broken moan from him, barely audible, and then..

His release was hot against your palm, his cock twitching as he came silently, his teeth clenched. You kept stroking him gently through it, milking every last drop until his body finally sagged against the seat.

You pulled your hand away, sticky and slick, and he caught your wrist before you could wipe it off.

“Let me,” he whispered, bringing your fingers to his mouth.

And then he licked them clean.

Your breath hitched. Your thighs clenched.

“Next time,” he said with a wicked grin, “I want your mouth.”

He tucked the blanket more snugly around both of you, your hand now clean and resting peacefully on your lap. His breathing had slowed, his body relaxed, but his eyes stayed on you.

“You did so well for me,” he whispered, voice hoarse but full of affection. “So patient, so perfect.”

His hand found yours beneath the blanket again, fingers lacing gently. You leaned into his shoulder, letting the soft lull of the engine hum lull you into calm.

“I’m so lucky I get to have you like this,” he added, turning his head to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “My good girl.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. His praise never failed to send a little ache to your chest, more emotional than physical this time. It felt like more than lust. It was more.

You closed your eyes, and so did he.

Wrapped in warmth, tangled fingers, and the quiet security of being his, you both drifted into a soft, quiet nap, high above the clouds, with nothing but the stars keeping your secret.

[wooyoungsub]

"House Rules"

Dom ATEEZ (OT8) x Sub Reader | Full Gangbang

Summary: In a lavish mansion shared with ATEEZ, boredom strikes. But you’ve always been more than their friend, you’ve been their escape, their toy, their relief. When they whine about having nothing to do, you offer them entertainment. What starts as a teasing show quickly spirals into a night of unfiltered use, where eight men remind you just how much of you they own.

Word Count: 5235

Genre: Smut

Warnings: No developed relationship dynamics, all 8 ateez men fuck your brains out of you, Intense, Raw, Experimental, HEAVY Degrading, Dehumanizing, No Fluff

A/N: Hey guy's! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write another story I've been really busy lately.. I hope you enjoy this one it's really heavy and dehumanizing. This is not to be taken seriously I am not by any means saying that the Ateez members are like this it is simply inspired by a fantasy I had.

Smut will begin underneath the dividing line

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The living room felt warm, not from the summer heat bleeding through the mansion windows, but from the thick tension crawling over every inch of exposed skin. The eight of them were sprawled across the expensive sectional like gods bored of paradise, each dressed down in gym shorts and tank tops, post-shower hair still damp.

You’d grown used to being surrounded by them. Used to the stares. The smirks. The way their moods shifted when they were bored and you were available.

“Someone give me something to do before I lose my mind,” San grumbled, tilting his head back and letting out a sigh. His neck was glistening with sweat, veins stark against his skin. You caught the way Hongjoong’s fingers tapped impatiently on his thigh.

“You could work on lyrics,” Seonghwa offered from the edge of the chaise.

“Or you could just entertain us,” Wooyoung cut in, eyes already crawling up your body where you sat cross-legged on the floor.

You tilted your head. “Entertain you how?” you asked, voice dipped in a tease.

Yunho spread his legs wider. “However you want, baby.”

There was a beat of silence before you stood.

You didn’t speak. You just peeled your top over your head slowly, no bra, no shame, and dropped it on the floor. The collective shift in the room was immediate. Mingi's eyes darkened, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. Jongho's jaw clenched, fist flexing. Yeosang leaned forward like gravity had given up on everything but you.

“You all look bored,” you said, voice casual as you hooked your thumbs into your shorts and slid them down inch by inch, dragging the waistband past your hips and letting them pool at your feet.

San leaned forward. “I’m not bored anymore.”

You stepped up onto the low coffee table in front of them, naked under the heat of eight stares, your body soaking in the power you had and were about to give up.

“Then watch me.”

You started to move. Slow. Sensual. Hips circling, chest bouncing lightly with each roll. One hand slid down your side while the other grazed your inner thigh. You touched yourself like you wanted to be watched. Like you wanted to be devoured.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung hissed, hand already palming himself through his shorts.

“Keep going,” Hongjoong ordered, voice sharp and low. “You want to be the center of attention? Earn it.”

So you did.

You dropped to your knees on the table, legs spread, and ran both hands up your thighs, fingertips ghosting over the wet heat between them. The boys watched with hungry eyes, each sitting back, letting the show unfold. But you saw how Jongho’s chest was rising faster, how Seonghwa’s hand drifted toward his waistband, how Mingi’s legs shifted restlessly.

“You’re soaked,” Yeosang muttered, voice wrecked and low. “Already?”

You smiled wickedly and dragged a finger through your folds, holding it up so they could see the slick.

“Maybe I like being watched.”

That was the final thread.

San moved first, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you off the table like a doll. Your back hit the couch, knees spread by large, impatient hands. The rest followed like animals unleashed. All heat, muscle, scent, and breath. Someone’s mouth was on your neck, probably Wooyoung, by the smirk against your throat. Hands were on your thighs, your tits, your hair.

“Look at you,” Mingi groaned, brushing his cock against your soaked slit without pushing in yet. “All this for us?”

“Say it,” Hongjoong growled from somewhere behind you, voice like sandpaper and smoke. “Tell us what you are.”

Your lips parted, but Yunho beat you to it. “She’s our toy.”

“She’s our fuckdoll,” Wooyoung added with a chuckle, biting your collarbone hard enough to leave a mark.

“She’s nothing unless we’re using her,” San muttered, pushing two fingers into your mouth and watching your lips close around them greedily.

You moaned around his hand.

Then Mingi pushed in.

Your body arched, the stretch obscene, deep, overwhelming and fuck, you loved it. He bottomed out with a grunt, hips flush to yours, pulling back slowly just to watch your hole twitch before slamming back in again.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” he groaned, sweat dripping down his chest as he began to thrust.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t remember what silence sounded like when your name, no, your body was being passed around like a shared secret. Mingi fucking you while San fed you his fingers and Wooyoung marked your skin and Seonghwa gentle, beautiful Seonghwa was on his knees, kissing up your trembling thigh like worship.

“Wait your turn,” Hongjoong snapped, and Seonghwa obeyed with a low nod, eyes dark with restraint.

“You hear that, princess?” Yunho whispered, kneeling beside you and dragging his cock across your cheek. “You're gonna take us all. One by one. Until you're crying.”

Tears pricked your eyes already, but it wasn’t sadness. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Mingi groaned and pulled out, panting. “She’s ready. Who’s next?”

San shoved him aside with a growl. “Me.”

Your body felt ruined in the best way, thighs shaking, lips swollen, throat raw from moaning, crying, gasping. Mingi had just left you dripping, wrecked, and open on the couch, and San didn’t wait. His hands gripped your hips like he owned every inch of you, and maybe he did.

“You’re gonna take me like a good fuckdoll, right?” he growled, dragging his thick length up your slit and teasing your entrance, already soaked from Mingi. “Or do I have to break you in again?”

You tried to answer, but San didn’t give you the chance.

He slammed into you, a harsh snap of hips that punched a breathless moan out of your chest. He didn’t stop. Didn’t ease in. He fucked like he was angry like your pussy was the only thing keeping him sane, and he needed to ruin it just to breathe.

“Fucking tight,” he hissed, pounding into you with unrelenting rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the high mansion walls.

Hands grabbed at you roughly, greedy. Wooyoung was behind you now, gripping your jaw and forcing your head back.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. You obeyed instantly.

He slid in, no warning, cock heavy and already leaking.

Your throat gagged around him, spit dripping from the corners of your lips as he held your head still and used your mouth like a sleeve. "That's it, baby," he laughed breathlessly, "so fucking pretty like this. Full like you’re meant to be."

San’s thrusts didn’t falter once. In and out, bruising and perfect, his grip on your waist tightening every time you clenched around him. “You like this shit, huh?” he grunted. “Being passed around like our little cumdump.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, mouth full, pussy full, body trembling. You nodded best you could.

“She’s crying,” Yunho said from beside you, voice amused and dark. “Should we stop?”

“No,” Jongho replied bluntly. “She’s crying because she’s happy.”

“Isn’t that right, baby?” Yeosang leaned over, cupping your face gently, contrasting the brutal way San and Wooyoung were using you. “You like being our favorite toy.”

You whimpered around Wooyoung’s cock and nodded again, choking slightly when he shoved deeper.

“She’s so good for us,” Seonghwa said softly, one hand stroking your hair. “We should reward her.”

“Reward her?” Hongjoong snorted. “She’s not here to be spoiled. She’s here to be fucked.”

San came with a low growl, burying himself deep and holding you there as he spilled inside. His moan was rough, primal, dragging out as his hips twitched. He stayed for a beat longer, panting, then pulled out with a messy squelch that left your thighs sticky and your hole fluttering.

“Next,” he said, stepping back and wiping sweat from his chest.

Without warning, Hongjoong grabbed your jaw, yanked Wooyoung’s cock from your mouth, and slapped you across the face not hard, but enough to stun.

“Eyes on me,” he growled, stripping his shirt off. “It’s my turn now, and I’m not fucking gentle.”

He pulled your body forward by the hair and forced you onto your knees between his legs.

“You want to be used?” he spat, cock slapping against your lips. “Then open the fuck up.”

You obeyed instantly, letting him fuck your throat without hesitation. No rhythm. Just need. His hands fisted in your hair and he used you, hips snapping forward again and again until you were choking, drooling, your eyes rolling back. You felt the warmth of cum still leaking from your pussy, running down your legs, pooling beneath you.

You were shaking. And they were loving it.

“You were made for this,” Jongho murmured from above, slowly stroking himself as he watched. “All holes full. All thoughts gone. Just a pretty body for us to ruin.”

Hongjoong pulled out and came across your face, thick ropes landing on your lips, your cheek, dripping down your chin. He smeared it with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. You swallowed without being asked.

“Who’s next?” he asked, breath ragged.

“Me,” Yunho growled. “On the floor.”

They flipped you onto your back. Yeosang lifted your legs. Yunho lined up and shoved in.

It was deep. Too deep. You screamed.

“Shh, baby,” Yunho whispered darkly, wrapping a hand around your throat. “You can take it.”

He fucked you slow but mean. Long, punishing strokes, his eyes locked to yours as he squeezed your throat just tight enough to make you dizzy.

“See what happens when you offer yourself up?” he murmured. “You stop being our friend. You become our fucking toy.”

You moaned high, broken, and wrecked, and Yeosang leaned down, pressing kisses along your chest.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, but there was a cruelty behind it. “So good at being nothing.”

Then he pressed himself between your lips. No warning. No pause.

You gagged as Yunho fucked from below and Yeosang thrust into your mouth.

It was chaos. Raw. Sticky. Loud. Hands everywhere. Breath hot against your skin. One cock after another. Inside, outside, everywhere.

By the time Jongho’s turn came, you couldn’t move.

He picked you up like a doll, spread your legs, and lowered you onto him slowly. You sobbed. He was thick, heavy, hard as stone.

“You’ll take all of us,” he whispered, barely moving, just stretching you wide and holding you there. “Even if it breaks you.”

You didn’t know what your name was anymore. Only that you existed to be filled.

And they weren’t done with you yet.

He held you there cock buried to the base inside your dripping cunt, thick and pulsing while your muscles trembled trying to stretch around him. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you up with ease, like your weight meant nothing to him, like you were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure.

You sobbed again, body exhausted, nerves frayed to raw edges, and yet... your pussy clenched. Around him. For him.

“Did you feel that?” San barked a laugh. “She fucking tightened on him.”

“She likes it,” Mingi growled. “She lives for this.”

Your head lolled to the side as Seonghwa approached again, cock flushed and leaking, dragging it across your parted lips. He tapped your cheek twice. “Say ‘thank you,’ doll.”

You couldn’t find the words. Only a whimper.

Tap. Harder this time. “Use your voice.”

“Th–thank you,” you whispered, lips glossy with drool and spit. “Thank you for using me.”

Seonghwa slid in.

You were being impaled from both ends Jongho lifting and dropping you on his cock with slow, punishing force, while Seonghwa fucked your mouth like it was his right. You were just a fucktoy between them now. Passed around, loaded, dripping. Full.

“She’s leaking again,” Yeosang murmured from above, voice cold and clinical like he was observing a specimen. “Already ruined and still ready.”

“Not ruined enough,” Hongjoong snapped.

“Then we fix that,” Yunho said. “Flip her. Now.”

Jongho lifted you off his cock your body clenched in protest and suddenly you were on your stomach across the couch cushions, ass raised, legs spread. Hands grabbed you from every angle. Spreading you. Smacking you. Testing which hole would give out first.

Then came the snap of a condom packet.

And the wet sound of lube.

You froze.

“Wh–who’s—”

“Don’t ask questions,” Mingi growled from behind you. “Just take it.”

One thick cock slid into your pussy again too fast. You cried out, overstimulated and twitching.

Then came pressure at your ass.

“Shh…” Wooyoung's voice was sweet and mocking as he kissed between your shoulder blades. “Relax, baby. Let us stretch you out.”

You clenched involuntarily. He didn’t stop.

Mingi thrusted deep again.

Then Wooyoung pushed in.

Slow, steady, splitting you open with slick precision until both of them were buried inside one in your pussy, one in your ass your body stretched past the edge of pain and deep into pleasure you couldn’t understand. Couldn’t survive.

You screamed.

And they moaned in unison.

“She’s shaking,” Wooyoung laughed breathlessly. “Fuck, she’s clenching like crazy.”

“Keep going,” Mingi grunted. “She’s not saying stop.”

You weren’t.

You couldn’t. You were drooling into the cushions, back arched, skin marked by dozens of hands and teeth. All you could do was take. And they gave. Roughly. Mercilessly.

“She’s ours,” Hongjoong said, kneeling beside you now, brushing sweat-drenched hair from your face. “She’s not a friend. Not a guest. She’s our property. Say it.”

You tried to speak. Failed.

He slapped you. “Say it.”

“I’m... yours,” you gasped.

“Whose?”

“All of you. I belong to all of you.”

Jongho fisted your hair and pulled your face up. “Louder.”

“I’m your fuckdoll!” you screamed, voice cracking. “I belong to all of you.. Use me!”

They didn’t need more permission.

Mingi and Wooyoung moved faster, pounding into you with animal force, stretching you so wide it felt like your body was split in two. You felt it everywhere, every nerve screaming, every muscle convulsing. Cum from earlier was still dripping out of you, mess mixing with lube, sweat, and spit as your body rocked between them.

Seonghwa straddled the couch in front of you and shoved his cock between your breasts, fucking your tits as Yunho slapped your ass red, hard, over and over until you were sobbing again from sheer overstimulation.

“She’s going to pass out,” Yeosang murmured.

“She doesn’t get to pass out until I cum inside her,” San hissed.

You came again. Harder than before.

It ripped through you like lightning, your body convulsing, clenching around them as you cried out their names in one endless string of praise and desperation. Your pussy spasmed around Mingi. Your ass clenched on Wooyoung. Your mouth dropped open with a silent scream.

And still, they didn’t stop.

Because you were no longer a friend. No longer a companion.

You were theirs.

You no longer knew where your body ended and theirs began.

You were shaking. Slick. Marked. Wrecked. Laid flat on the couch, face down, drool soaking the fabric. Holes stretched wide, trembling, still gaping from the double penetration that left your mind floating.

And they were still hard.

Still waiting.

Still hungry.

Hongjoong was crouched beside you again, tilting your head up by the chin, studying your ruined expression like a piece of art. “You thought we were done?” he asked, voice dripping with mock pity. “You don’t get to be done.”

“I can’t—” you croaked, eyes glassy.

“You will,” San snapped from behind, grabbing your arms and pulling them back. You cried out as your shoulders flexed, tits dragging along the soft fabric of the couch. “You don’t decide when this ends. We do.”

Rough fabric bound your wrists. You blinked down, one of their shirts, maybe Yunho’s, wrapped around your arms and knotted tight.

“You wanna act like a toy,” Yeosang said coldly, standing above you now, “then we’ll treat you like one.”

The world blurred as they flipped you, wrists bound behind your back, chest heaving, thighs trembling. Seonghwa shoved a pillow under your hips to keep you arched, spread, and vulnerable. Someone slapped your pussy. Hard. You whimpered.

“She’s still dripping,” Mingi muttered, dragging two fingers through the mess between your legs. He held them up to your lips. “Clean it.”

You sucked eagerly, tasting your own cum, sweat, and whatever they’d left behind.

“You’re disgusting,” Jongho said. “And so fucking perfect.”

Then came the stretch again.

Yunho slid into your ass, thick and slow, pulling a ragged sob from your throat.

You barely had time to adjust before Yeosang pushed into your pussy.

You screamed.

And then Seonghwa straddled your chest, cock dragging across your spit-soaked lips. “Open up,” he ordered.

You obeyed.

Triple penetration. Every hole filled. Every breath stolen.

Yunho behind you, thrusting hard and slow. Yeosang pounding your pussy like it offended him. Seonghwa was using your throat like it belonged to him. It was too much and somehow not enough.

They fucked you like a machine. Like your body was built for this. Like this was your purpose.

“She’s swallowing it,” Seonghwa groaned. “Her throat is fucking milking me.”

“Of course she is,” San muttered. “She’s trained for this.”

Tears streamed down your face, but your hips met every thrust.

Seonghwa came first, hot cum shooting into your mouth and spilling from the corners of your lips. He pulled out, letting it drip down your chin, smearing it across your cheek with two fingers. “Don’t waste it,” he hissed.

Then Yunho cursed, voice wrecked. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” His thrusts stuttered as he emptied himself deep in your ass, hands bruising your hips.

But Yeosang wasn’t done.

He flipped you again, bending your knees to your chest, locking his eyes with yours as he slammed in harder. Faster. Cruel.

“Cum with me,” he growled.

You did. Violently.

Your body convulsed, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent cry as your orgasm tore through you like a bomb. And Yeosang followed, burying himself deep and unloading everything inside until it leaked out around him and down your ass.

They pulled back and left you open, gaping, dripping, ruined.

“Look at that mess,” Wooyoung cooed, kneeling between your legs and spreading you wide. “So pretty.”

He dipped his fingers inside, scooping out cum and smearing it across your lower stomach. “Marking our territory.”

Then he leaned in and licked it up, slow, wet, obscene.

Your body jolted, too sensitive, too raw.

Jongho grabbed your ankles and flipped you again, dragging you over to the coffee table. “Crawl.”

You tried. Failed. Your limbs barely worked.

So they carried you.

San held your arms. Yeosang your legs. And they laid you back on the cool glass, tits up, lips parted, body still twitching. Someone was tying your ankles to the table legs, now open, vulnerable, utterly on display.

“She’s not cumming again until we all do,” Hongjoong said.

You whimpered.

They lined up.

One after the other.

Mingi came next across your chest, his cum painting your tits.

Then San fucking your throat until he filled it, watching you swallow and then spitting on your tongue for good measure.

Then Jongho slow, cruel thrusts into your raw cunt until he finished inside with a low grunt.

And Hongjoong last.

He didn't fuck you.

He knelt between your thighs, scooped up the cum that had pooled there, and rubbed it into your clit.

“Look at this used hole,” he murmured. “Ruined. Messy. Perfect.”

You were crying. Moaning. Shaking again.

“Ready for more?”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been tied to the coffee table, your arms bound behind your back, legs stretched wide and secured to the table’s edges with rope that bit into your skin. Cum coated your thighs, your breasts, your lips. The glass was fogged with your breath. You had long since stopped pretending to be anything but their property.

They watched you like gods circling their sacrifice. Every inch of your body had been used. Every hole stretched. Every part of your mind fogged over by pain and pleasure so vicious that it all melted into heat.

“She’s so fucked out,” Mingi laughed, running a lazy hand up your calf. “You still in there, sweetheart?”

You blinked. Barely. A moan slipped out instead of a word.

“She doesn’t need to answer,” Yeosang said, voice low. “Her body tells us everything.”

“Exactly,” Wooyoung chimed in, circling behind you, something plastic clinking in his hands. “She’s not here to speak. She’s here to feel.”

You flinched as cold touched your thigh. A smooth, buzzing hum.

A toy.

Your eyes flew open.

Wooyoung’s smirk was wicked. “That woke her up.”

The vibrator pressed against your clit soaked, puffy, swollen from overuse. The jolt of sensation made your entire body seize.

You screamed behind the gag.

Seonghwa had tied it in place minutes before, a thick black silk ribbon between your teeth, knotted cruelly at the back of your head.

“Quiet now,” he whispered in your ear. “We don’t want the neighbors hearing, do we?”

As if any part of this could be hidden.

Hongjoong knelt beside you, eyes dark and wild. “Look at her twitch. She’s shaking already. She’s gonna break.”

“She doesn’t get to break,” San growled. “She breaks when we say she does.”

And they didn’t say it yet.

Wooyoung pressed the toy harder. Circles. Pressure. Cruel rhythm. Every time you got close to cumming again, he’d pull away.

Again.

And again.

And again.

You screamed into the gag, sobbing through the denial. Your thighs trembled. Muscles locked up. Heat surged and disappeared like a tease just out of reach.

“You want to cum?” Yunho asked, voice like honey and venom. “Beg.”

You whimpered.

“Use your eyes, doll,” Yeosang murmured. “Beg us with your fucking eyes.”

You looked at them pleading, shattered. Your whole body was shaking, mouth dripping spit around the gag, chest rising and falling like you were drowning in want. And maybe you were.

“Pathetic,” San said, voice thick with arousal. “So fucking needy.”

“She’s ready,” Seonghwa whispered.

They untied you just enough to reposition you.

Then came the next stage.

They pulled you onto your knees and pushed your chest flat to the cold glass. You couldn’t hold yourself up, your arms were still bound behind your back, but it didn’t matter. You were theirs.

Hongjoong shoved the vibrator inside you this time, your slick swallowing it whole. A second one followed, smaller, pushed between your thighs and held in place by a hand you couldn’t see.

Then they all took seats.

Watching.

Mingi held a remote. “We’ll start slow.”

The toys buzzed to life.

Low. Then high. Then pulsing.

You choked around the gag, body convulsing as your orgasm slammed into you immediately.

Your scream was garbled, incoherent, but your body betrayed you, hips bucking, juices pouring, back arched in a way that screamed ruin me again.

They applauded.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purred. “Now again.”

The toys didn’t stop.

Another orgasm.

Then another.

Your body gave up trying to come down.

It just kept going, shaking, leaking, jerking against invisible waves of overstimulation.

You’d lost count.

Had it been five? Seven? More?

Your voice was gone. You were sobbing. Hands gripped your hips, Yunho again, and pushed you up against his cock.

He slid in.

You were soaking. Stuffed. Full of buzz and slick and heat.

He didn’t move. Just held you there.

“Look up, pet,” he whispered. “Show me what that throat’s made for.”

Then Yeosang got in front of you.

You obeyed.

Because you didn’t have a choice.

Because you didn’t want a choice.

He shoved in.

You were spit roasted again. Yunho behind you, slow, torturous thrusts, and Yeosang in your mouth, face-fucking with that quiet rage he always hid behind beauty. The toys never stopped. You were cumming around Yunho and choking on Yeosang and sobbing through every thrust, gagged and bound and absolutely gone.

Hongjoong approached from the side, bent down, and whispered:

“You still haven’t broken.”

He turned the toy all the way up.

You came so hard your vision went white.

Then you collapsed.

But they didn’t let you rest.

You didn’t feel yourself go.

One second your body was tensed in orgasm, shaking, soaked, used.

The next, you were gone.

Collapsed. Mind wiped clean. No words. No awareness. Just black.

But even as you passed out, they kept going.

Yunho stayed inside you, cock still throbbing, thrusts slowing but never stopping. Your cunt milked him without your permission, body reacting purely on instinct. The vibrator was still humming inside, juices spilling down your thighs, soaking the floor under the table.

“She’s out,” Yeosang said, voice emotionless as he wiped spit off his cock and stared at your slack, ruined face.

Hongjoong crouched down, cupping your chin with one hand. “Still breathing.”

Mingi looked down at your wrecked body, tied, dripping, flushed red. “So fucking hot.”

They didn’t stop.

Because that’s what you were for.

“Wake her up,” Seonghwa said gently, brushing your hair back. But there was nothing soft in his eyes.

So they did.

A slap.

A hard one. Then another.

Your eyes fluttered open.

You gasped like you’d been pulled from drowning. Air slammed into your lungs. Tears pooled instantly. Your body spasmed.

“You’re okay,” San said, but it wasn’t comfort, it was command. “You’re not done.”

Your lips moved. No sound came out. You tasted cum and spit and salt.

“She’s awake,” Jongho confirmed. “Back in the game.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Because then Seonghwa climbed up, one knee on the table, then the other, and positioned himself directly over your face.

“I’m going to sit here,” he said, voice calm. “And you’re going to make me cum. No hands. No help. Just your mouth and your tongue. Understand?”

You whimpered, nodding slowly.

He lowered himself.

Your face was smothered in skin, his thighs around your ears, his cock resting on your lips, heavy and hard.

He began to roll his hips.

Slow. Controlled. Dominant.

“Breathe when I let you,” he whispered. “Or don’t. I don’t care.”

You licked. Sucked. Moaned against his weight as he rode your face like a throne, rocking until his hips stuttered. He came on your tongue, in your mouth, across your cheeks and kept you pinned under him.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered, brushing your hair again as you gasped for air the second he lifted.

But there was no time to recover.

Jongho was between your legs again, spreading you open to reveal the mess inside.

“She’s full,” he murmured, dipping his fingers into your pussy. “So full, it’s leaking out.”

Wooyoung joined him. “Let’s fill her more.”

“What if we kept it all inside?” Mingi asked, half-laughing. “Tied her up, plugged her, and made her hold it.”

“Watch her belly swell with it,” Yunho added. “Like she’s getting knocked up with all of us at once.”

You moaned a broken, humiliating sound.

“You like that?” Hongjoong asked. “The idea of us fucking you full until you’re bloated and dripping?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please.”

They lost it.

The last of their self-control.

Hands everywhere grabbing, lifting, pulling. You were thrown over Yeosang’s lap, legs dangling, cunt exposed and already leaking. Someone shoved the vibrator back in, then held it there. Mingi slid his cock in beside it, two thick shapes stretching you open again.

Your stomach bulged slightly under the pressure.

“Fuck, look at that,” San hissed. “She’s stretching around it.”

They took turns again.

No order now. Just chaos.

San in your ass, rough and feral. Yunho in your mouth, face-fucking with your hair knotted in his fist. Jongho on your back, jerking himself onto your spine. Wooyoung forcing your legs open and watching the mess bubble up with every thrust.

And they didn’t stop filling you.

One load.

Then another.

Then another.

Until you could feel it.

Heavy. Warm. Stretching your walls, pooling deeper. Cum spilling out, sliding down your ass, dripping onto Yeosang's lap in a puddle of proof.

Then they pulled back, admired their work.

Your body was limp again. Barely conscious. Tied, swollen, painted in spit and semen. Belly slightly puffed from how much they’d left inside you.

“She’s not broken yet,” Hongjoong said.

“Then we keep going,” Seonghwa answered.

Because you don’t stop a doll when it malfunctions.

You reprogram her.

You didn’t remember how long it had been.

Hours? A full night? Time had stopped meaning anything. You were no longer a person, just a body, leaking and pulsing and shaking under the weight of every orgasm they gave you. You’d passed out. Come back. Been used. Passed out again.

Now… you were still.

Bound. Gag removed. Knees tucked under you, arms behind your back, ropes soft but firm around your ankles and wrists, hair knotted, lips bruised. Caked in spit. Dried cum smeared across your skin like warpaint. A mess. Their mess.

They circled you now quiet, calm, spent. Each one touched you like you were theirs. Because you were.

“She’s beautiful like this,” Seonghwa murmured, running a hand through your tangled hair.

“No thoughts left,” San whispered. “Just obedience.”

“Just need,” Wooyoung added.

“Just us,” Yeosang said, and his fingers ghosted over the bruises he’d left on your hips.

You blinked up slowly. Your voice was barely a rasp. “Yours.”

They didn’t laugh. No teasing this time.

Only heat.

Still.

Present.

Dominant.

“She doesn’t need a name anymore,” Hongjoong said, crouching in front of you. His eyes were wild, but his voice was terrifyingly calm. “She belongs to us. She lives to serve.”

You swallowed. You nodded.

“You want a title, pet?” Yunho asked. “Something permanent?”

You opened your mouth.

Then Seonghwa leaned in and whispered it like a blessing.

“Doll.”

That word echoed in the space like gospel.

“That’s all she is,” Jongho said. “Our doll. Our perfect, empty, ruined little thing.”

Mingi brought the collar over.

Black leather. Silver ring in front. No name tag. No need.

You lowered your head willingly.

Hongjoong fastened it.

It clicked shut like a promise.

“You don’t get to speak anymore unless we tell you to,” he whispered. “You don’t get to cum. To breathe. To beg. Unless we say so.”

“Yes, Master,” you breathed.

And that was it.

The final shift.

You weren’t the friend anymore. You weren’t the guest, the girl in the mansion, the tease they toyed with.

You were property.

And you had never felt so fucking full.

San dragged you into his lap, pressing your back to his chest, spreading your legs for the others to see. “Look at her,” he growled. “Still leaking. Still twitching. Still wanting.”

Mingi cupped your breasts.

Wooyoung sucked a mark into your throat.

Yeosang stroked himself while staring at your ruined folds.

“She’s ready again,” Jongho muttered.

But Hongjoong shook his head. “Let her rest. She’s done. For now.”

They laid you out on the rug like art. Limbs loose. Breathing heavy. Cum still pooling between your thighs.

San kissed your temple.

Seonghwa cleaned your lips with a cloth.

Yunho undid the ropes and massaged your wrists.

“You did so well,” he whispered. “You took all of us. You let us destroy you.”

“And you loved it,” Yeosang murmured.

You nodded barely.

Tears welled up. Not from pain. From something deeper. Relief. Bliss. Love, even, in its filthiest, rawest form.

“You’re ours now,” Hongjoong said. “Forever.”

Your voice cracked as you whispered:

“I wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else.”

They smiled.

And as they cleaned you, kissed you, and wrapped your spent body in their warmth, you realized something:

You weren’t broken.

You were exactly what you were meant to be.

[wooyoungsub]

"Unlocked"

Choi San x Reader x Wooyoung | Humiliation

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3649

Warnings: 18+ content, Dom/sub dynamic, cnc (the addition of another member without verbal consent), bdsm (choking, spanking), humiliation, overstimulation, power imbalance, sadism

A/N: WOW ... I'm sorry guys I didn't mean for this to come out so long.. Brace yourself for this one it's borderline sadistic and hard to read. If at any point it becomes too much for you feel free to let me know in the comments (I respond to everything). As always I hope you enjoy.

Smut begins below the line

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You didn't hear the door open.

Didn't hear the soft, surprised breath caught in a throat.

You didn't hear him.

Wooyoung freezes in the doorway. His eyes widen, gaze locking onto the curve of your ass as you reach up to wring water from your hair. Your head is tilted back, exposing your neck, breasts glistening in the dim light, the water cascading like honey over your skin.

He should leave. He knows he should. But he doesn't.

He watches for a second too long, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. Then, like a ghost, he slips out again, the door clicking shut behind him so quietly it may as well have never happened.

You don't know what has just happened.

But San does. He saw everything.

He was coming down the hallway when he saw Wooyoung standing there, mouth parted, eyes darkened, jaw tight. He followed the trail of Wooyoung's gaze, only to find the door to the bathroom cracked open. Steam rolled out like it was inviting them both inside. The soft sound of your voice humming carelessly, utterly unaware, wrapped itself around both men like silk.

You hadn't locked the door.

San felt something twist in his chest. Not jealousy. Not really.

Possession.

San then pulled Wooyoung aside. Wooyoung's eyes widened, stricken by fear of how his best friend would react.

"Enjoying the show?" San's tone was icy, laced with venom, eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

"I- I had no idea she was in there.. I just.." he began to explain himself.

"Did you like what you saw, or not?" San cut him off, a smirk forming on his lips.

Wooyoung nodded.

"Then tonight I will allow you to test her out." San was fully smirking now.

Wooyoung bit his lip, understanding the assignment.

The rest of the day was strange. You noticed it almost immediately.

At breakfast, San didn't kiss you good morning like he usually does. He just looked at you over the rim of his mug, eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable. When you asked if something was wrong, he only smirked and said, "Nothing you need to worry about."

Wooyoung was worse. Less subtle. His eyes lingered far too long on your lips when you spoke, and he kept standing too close when he passed behind you in the kitchen, like he wanted to touch you but was holding back.

You'd ask what's going on, but something about the way they kept exchanging glances made your stomach flip, made heat pool low in your belly.

They were hiding something.

And you were pretty sure you were the secret.

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch in one of San's oversized hoodies and a pair of tiny sleep shorts, scrolling on your phone, when San came in.

He doesn't say a word, just plucks the device from your hand and sets it on the table. His fingers curl around your jaw, tilting your face up to his.

"What's rule number one, baby?"

You blink. "Huh?"

He leans in, so close his lips brush your cheek as he speaks. "When you shower, what do you do?"

"...Lock the door?"

"Right." His voice is low, dangerous. "Except you didn't."

Your heart skips. "I- I forgot. I was rushing.."

His thumb presses against your lips, silencing you.

"You were on display, sweetheart. For anyone to see."

You feel the heat crawl up your neck. Something about his tone.. it's different tonight. Not angry. Possessive. Dark.

Before you can answer, you hear the door open again, and Wooyoung steps in from the hallway.

You stiffen. He gives you a look that's both apologetic and hungry, and San's fingers curl a little tighter against your face.

"You let him see what's mine," San murmurs. "So I've decided.. you're going to share tonight."

Your eyes widen. "San.."

"No. You don't get to speak right now."

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, just enough to command.

"And if you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you finish tonight."

Your stomach knots. The air is thick with tension, with something dangerous. Embarrassment burns through you, hot and shaming. But underneath it, god help you, you feel the dull throb of need.

You glance at Wooyoung, who's already kicked off his shoes. His eyes are fixed on you, like a predator.

This is wrong. Unfair. You should say something. You should protest. But instead, your thighs press together, and your breath hitches when San slides his hand between your legs and feels the slick warmth already there.

"Tch," he smirks. "So this is what you like?"

Then he leans in to kiss you, claiming, roughly. You melt.

You're scared, humiliated, burning with shame. But you don't say no. And that's all the answer they need.

Sans' hand is still between your legs.

He doesn't move it, just presses his fingers firmly over the damp fabric of your shorts, holding the evidence of your arousal against your skin like proof.

Proof you can't deny.

Wooyoung steps closer, and you can't bring yourself to look at him. Your cheeks are burning, your breath sallow. Every inch of you feels exposed, even though you're still clothed.

"You're already wet," San murmurs beside your ear. "He hasn't even touched you yet."

You try to shake your head, to explain, I didn't mean to, I wasn't thinking, I didn't know he was watching, but none of it comes out.

All that escapes you is a soft whimper as San slides his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers slipping beneath the waistband to find you hot, slick, and aching.

"Goddamn" he growls. "You filthy little thing."

Your knees buckle slightly, but San catches you by the throat with his free hand, steadying you. His grip is firm, not tight, just enough to remind you who's in control.

"Get on your knees."

You hesitate, wide eyes flicking to Wooyoung.

San's tone drops, deadly calm. "Now."

You drop.

The floor is cold under your knees, but the heat rolling off both men makes your skin feel fevered. San stands over you, his fingers still glistening from your arousal.

Wooyoung kneels in front of you, eyes roaming shamelessly down your body.

"She always look this pathetic when she's desperate?" he asks with a smirk.

San chuckles. "Only when she knows she's about to be used."

You clench your thighs together instinctively, but it's too late. Wooyoung sees it, your twitch, your shiver, your silent betrayal, and it makes his grin widen.

"She likes that," he says, leaning closer. "Being called pathetic."

You open your mouth to protest, to say no, I don't, but all that comes out is a shaky breath, and then San's hand wraps gently around the back of your neck, forcing your head down.

"She doesn't need to talk. Not tonight."

You expect San to unzip himself first, to claim your mouth like he always does when he's in this mood. But instead, his hand stays on your neck, pressing just enough to keep your eyes locked on Wooyoung's cock as he pulls it free.

You freeze.

He's already hard.

"Open," San orders.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat. You can't believe this is happening. You can't believe San is letting him. Making him. Making you.

You should feel betrayed.

You should feel angry.

But all you feel is heat. And shame. And a deep, aching need that curls inside you like a flame.

Wooyoung strokes himself slowly, watching your face. Waiting for any sign of hesitation. There is none. Your eyes flutter half closed as he guides himself to your mouth and slides in slowly, deliberately, like he's savoring the moment.

San watches from above, his grip tightening slightly on your neck. "Good girl," he murmurs. "Take him deep."

You try. God, you try. But he's thick, and the angle is unfamiliar. You gag softly, eyes watering, but you don't pull away. You press forward, moaning around him as San's praise sinks into your bones like poison and honey all at once.

"There she is," Wooyoung groans, hips twitching. "Knew she'd be good."

You want to cry from the humiliation, from the overwhelming heat, from the way San is letting someone else take what's his. But there's no stopping now. You've already given in and you know it.

San kneels behind you, hands sliding up your thighs, then under your hoodie, exposing the curve of your ass. He rips your shorts done in one rough motion, letting them hang uselessly around your knees.

Then his hand cracks on your ass.

The sound echoes in the room. Your body jolts, a cry muffled around wooyoungs cock. You pull your head back from the pain as San spanks you again harder. Wooyoung grips your hair, roughly pulling your head closer to him "keep sucking," he growls.

Pain blooms across your skin, chased immediately by a rush of arousal so intense it makes your vision blur.

"You feel that?" San asks, fingers sliding between your folds again, now bare to the air. "You're soaking."

Wooyoung lets out a breathless laugh. "Fuck, you're unbelievable."

You whimper, tears dripping from your lashes, not from sadness, but from overstimulation, from how badly you want more.

San leans down, lips brushing your ear. "You're ours tonight. And tomorrow, you'll thank me for it."

San's breath is hot against your neck as he kneels behind you, one palm braced on your lower back, the other cupping your ass, thumb grazing the tender skin already marked red from his first strikes.

He clicks his tongue. "You didn't even fight us. Didn't even try to stop him."

You want to say you were shocked, or confused, or overwhelmed.

But the truth is, you liked it.

The raw edge of shame in his voice, the way wooyoung fucked your mouth while san just watched made your stomach twist in the most sinful way. Your hips are already pushing back, involuntarily, searching for more of his hand even as you tremble.

"Oh," Wooyoung chuckles from in front of you, still hitting the back of your throat, one hand brushing your hair from your tear-stained face. "She's bratty for it."

San's palm cracks against your skin again. Harder. The kind that echoes. You gasp around your own spit and the taste of Wooyoung's release, jolting forward.

Another strike.

Then another.

You whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as your knees slide further apart, body bowing like it's begging.

You don't say it, not out loud, but the sounds you're making are pure submission. There's no hiding it.

"You don't get to lock the door anymore," he says, voice flat. "If you want to act like a whore, then we'll treat you like one."

Wooyoung chuckles, cock still hard in his hand. "I wanna see her face when you put it in."

San doesn't answer, but the shift behind you says enough.

The blunt head of his cock brushes your entrance, thick and already leaking. You choke out a noise, half sob, half moan, and arch back into him instinctively. He presses in slowly, a deliberate stretch that makes your thighs shake. No prep. Just your own slick and a full day of tension.

You want to scream. Instead, you bite your lip so hard it stings.

"She's tight," San grits, fingers bruising your hips. "Like her body still thinks it belongs to just me."

Wooyoung crouches in front of you again, cock resting heavy against your cheek.

"Does it?" he murmurs. "Tell me the truth, baby. Are you San's? Or ours now?"

You don't answer. Can't.

So he slaps your face lightly with the tip, smearing cum across your lips.

"Come on, use that mouth again. Be a good girl."

San thrusts forward sharply, bottoming out in one brutal push, and your mouth opens wide with a soundless cry just as Wooyoung slides his cock back between your lips.

Perfect.

San sets a punishing rhythm from behind deep, relentless, hips smacking againstyour sore ass with every thrust. He grunts with the effort, one hand wrapped in your hair to yank your head up and keep your throat exposed while you choke around Wooyoung.

You're drooling, soaked, completely split open. Used.

Your body rocks between them like it doesn't belong to you anymore, like it was made to be passed around.

San growls each time you tighten around him. Wooyoung moans when your throat constricts from the force of San's thrusts.

You're being fucked from both ends. Reduced to a toy for them to use. And still.. your hips push back harder. Still... you moan around Wooyoungs cock like you're desperate for more.

San leans over you, chest pressing against your back, breath ragged.

"You don't deserve this," he hisses. "But you want it anyway."

He reaches around, fingers rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit.

"Come on. Be honest. Come for us like the messy little thing you are."

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up.

The orgasm tears through you like a wildfire. You shake. You sob around Wooyoungs cock. And worst of all you clench around San as he fucks you through it, letting out a vicious groan as your body milks him for more. You collapse into Wooyoung's lap, utterly ruined, twitching.

But it isn't over.

He grabs your jaw, tilting your head up with a smirk.

"Still got one more hole, sweetheart."

And you, shaking, soaked, and glowing with shame, didn't even flinch. You're barely upright. Your face sticky with spit, tears, and Wooyoungs cum. Your thighs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy pulsingaround nothing now that San pulled out, smearing his cum across your ass as he strokes himself through the aftermath.

Wooyoung looks down at you like you're the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. "She didn't even flinch," he murmurs. "You see that San? I said she's got one more hole and she just.. took it."

San chuckles behind you, running a hand down your spine, slow and possessive. "She knows she doesn't get a choice anymore."

You should flinch, but instead you let Wooyoung tip your face toward him, his fingers gripping your chin with a kind of cruel softness.

"Hey," he began, voice teasing. "You want it, don't you?"

Your lips part automatically.

Not a yes.

Not a no.

Just need.

San grabs your hips again, dragging you into a new position, bent over the couch, knees spread wide, back arched, your ass pushed high in the air while your chest pressed against the cushions.

You feel his cum slide down the inside of your thigh.

You hear Wooyoung unwrapping something, a condom maybe, but your brain's too fogged to follow. Your heart pounds, wild, confused, filthy. Shame twists inside you as San leans over and whispers in your ear, "You thought getting caught with the door unlocked was embarrassing? Wait until you feel both of us inside you."

You whimper.

A fresh flood of wetness spills from between your legs, and San hums in approval.

Wooyoung presses against your entrance from behind, not where San was before. Lower. More forbidden. You jerk, startled, but San grabs your wrists and pins them down against the couch.

"Relax," he growls. "You're going to take him. You want to be our little fuckdoll? Then earn it."

You squeeze your eyes shut as Wooyoung's fingers work you open slowly. Lube coats his touch slick, cold, then warm as he presses deeper. You're panting already, squirming in sans grip, but every time your hips try to jerk away, he spanks you again. Harder now. Sharp slaps that echo in the room and leave you gasping.

"That's it," Wooyoung breathes. "Just like that."

It burns. It stretches. But he doesn't stop. You can't help but press back.

San watches your body tremble, then he reches for the bottle of lube and pours it on his tip lazily spreading it on his cock.

You realize what's about to happen.

And then-

They both slide in.

Together.

You scream in pain, discomfort, and pleasure.

Your body doesn't know how to survive this, yet craves it at the same time.

Soon, your screams turn into loud, heavy moans.

"You hear that?" San says through gritted teeth. "She fucking loves it."

"You feel her shaking?" Wooyoung groans, hips thrusting harsher than before. "God, she's squeezing both of us."

You're crying again. You can't stop. Overstimulated, stretched to your limit, your mind trying to flee, but your body only opening more needy and raw.

You whimper Sans name then Wooyoungs, and then just please, even though you don't know what you're begging for anymore.

They keep going. Faster. Harder. Until the pain is pleasure, and the pleasure is unbearable, and your mind goes blank.

"You're gonna come again," San hisses, slamming into you. "Gonna fucking squirt all over us, aren't you?"

"She's close," Wooyoung pants. "She's trembling."

You scream as your orgams hits you, violent and wet, your body convulsing as both men fuck you through it deep and brutal and perfect.

And still they don't stop.

Your vision swims.

Your body twitches between them, oversensitive and wrecked, sweat and slick clinging to your skin. Your lips are swollen, your thighs coated in cum and spit.

San pulls out first with a grunt, cock still hard, glistening. Wooyoung follows, slower, letting your body release him with a wet sound that makes your cheeks burn hotter.

"Messy little toy" San mutters.

You collapse forward, gasping, but he grabs a fistful of your hair before you can fall. He forces you up. Your back bows. You whimper.

"No." he snaps. "We're not done."

"Fuck, no where not," Wooyoung breathes from behind, hand trailing across your spine, your ribs, cupping your tits roughly.

They drag you up between them, your knees barely holding, your mind fogged, until you're standing, limp and trembling, in the space between both men.

"On the couch," San growls. "Facing us."

You move. Obedient. Silent. Humiliated. You can barely meet their eyes.

But you do as you're told.

You sit back on the couch, thighs falling open automatically, like a reflex. You don't even try to close them anymore.

Wooyoung lets out a low whistle as he kneels in front of you. "Look at her. All ruined, and still begging."

"I want her to say it," San says.

You flinch, say what?

You blink up at them, dazed. San steps forward, towering over you, and then, without warning, he slaps you.

Your head snaps to the side. It's not hard enough to hurt, just sharp. Shocking. Your mouth falls open. You look up at him again.

Another slap, this time from Wooyoung.

Back and forth.

Your skin burns. Not violently, but deliberately just enough to knock more shame loose from your bones.

"Say it," San commands. "Tell us you like it."

You hesitate. Just for a second.

San's jaw clenches. "You liked getting used. You liked being full of us. You fucking liked it."

Wooyoung's hand comes under your chin, gripping it hard. "Be honest, baby," he murmurs. "You soaked our cocks with how much you liked it."

You nod before you speak.

"I.. " your voice cracks. You can barely hear it. "I did."

"Louder," San says.

You swallow thickly. "I liked it."

You don't sound proud. You sound wrecked.

Exactly what they wanted.

"Good girl," Wooyoung purrs, already crawling back between your thighs, dragging his tongue slowly up your inner thigh, toward your still pulsing cunt.

San sits beside you on the couch, hand around your throat, squeezing gently, not enough to scare you, but enough to remind you that you're not done.

"You're gonna ride me," he says darkly. "While he eats you out."

Your body answers before your brain does, legs moving to straddle San's lap, knees planted wide on either side of his thighs. He lines himself up, already thick and stiff again, and when you sink down, inch by inch, your lips fall open in a soundless moan.

Wooyoung is right there between your legs, watching you take san deep again. Then his mouth is on you. Tongue licking through the mess they left behind. You sob.

San holds your hips in place and thrusts up while Wooyoung devours you from below. Your body jerks, your breath hitches, and then.. slap.

"Look at me while you cum."

And you do.

Your body is already rushing toward another climax, fast, brutal, unstoppable.

Your thighs ache. Your jaw throbs, and you still ride him.

San holds your hips like handlebars, grinding you down onto his cock over and over, while Wooyoungs tongue tortures your swollen clit like he's starving. Your moans break in your throat; this was no longer pleasure, it was surrender.

You can feel Wooyoung smile against you. The cocky kind. The mocking kind.

"You hear the way she's moaning?" he says to San. "You think good girls make those sounds when they're being fucked in front of someone else?"

Sans's hand slips up your side, under your breast, around your throat, tightening hard. "No," he answers. "They cry. They beg to stop."

"But not her." Wooyoung slaps your thigh with a loud crack. "She grinds harder."

You flinch, but your hips stutter forward anyway.

San chuckles darkly. "She doesn't want to stop. She wants us to ruin her."

You hate how true it is.

You ride him harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, moans breaking past your throat in ugly, helpless bursts. The couch rocks beneath you.

You feel your orgasm crashing before you can prepare. Your thighs seize. Your toes curl. You scream.

And finally, they stop.

Finally, it's over.

Finally, you realize: they didn't steal anything from you. You gave it. Every last part of yourself. And that's why you're ruined. Not because they took you. But because you wanted them too.

[wooyoungsub]

"Storm Command"

Hongjoong x Reader | Dom/Sub | Explicit

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2957

Warnings: 18+ content, Dom/sub dynamic, rough, bd/sm elements (spanking, bondage, choking, breath play), degradation+ condescending language, overstimulation, tears, power imbalance, possessiveness, creamp!e

The smut begins underneath the dividing line

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The motel door slammed shut behind you.

Rain hammered the windows in chaotic rhythm, wind howling just as loud as the crowd had been an hour ago, but nothing in this room was louder than Hongjoong’s silence.

His eyes burned under his cap, damp hair clinging to his forehead. He hadn’t spoken since the car ride. He hadn’t needed to.

The weight of his stare as you leaned against the peeling wallpaper made you feel naked even though you were still in your tour outfit, damp from the run inside.

“You just…” he began, voice low, barely audible over the storm, “stand there and act like you don’t know what you’ve been doing all night.”

You swallowed, throat tight.

“I didn’t—”

“You knew,” he growled, stepping forward. The tone in his voice cracked something inside you, heat blooming in your core instantly. “You knew that top was a fucking problem the second you stepped into that dressing room.”

Your back hit the wall. The look in his eyes wasn’t teasing. It was command.

“You danced like you wanted everyone to look. But only I get to touch.”

“I—”

“Strip.” One word. Cold. Sharp.

Your heart flipped violently in your chest. But your hands obeyed before your mouth could.

Top. Skirt. Bra. Panties. All dropped to the stained carpet, one by one.

Hongjoong stepped closer, closing the distance until your bare chest nearly brushed his still-clothed body.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

The second your palms pressed against the faded wallpaper, his belt came off with a hiss.

You shivered. He hadn't even touched you yet.

The next sound was the sharp crack of leather snapping in his hands.

“You’re going to stay still,” he muttered, circling behind you like a predator. “You want to act like a brat in public? You’ll be treated like one in private.”

He tied your wrists with his belt, snug but secure, pinning your arms behind your back. The cold buckle pressed against your skin. Then came his palm.

The smack echoed in the room over the rain, over your gasp, and then again.

Hard.

Then harder.

“You think I didn’t see the way you bent over for the crowd?” he snarled between spanks. “Every time your ass bounced, I wanted to drag you off stage and fuck you against the nearest wall.”

Your knees buckled, but his hand gripped your hair, yanking your head back.

“Not done. You’re not going anywhere.”

Another spank. You cried out.

“You take it so pretty,” he growled.

His other hand ghosted down your spine, fingertips tracing the curve of your trembling backside, dipping lower.

You moaned at the first brush of his fingers between your thighs just enough to feel how soaked you were.

“Pathetic,” he muttered. “One punishment and you’re dripping already?”

He dropped to his knees behind you, spreading you wider with his hands.

“You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe. “Yes…”

His breath was hot against your core. “Use your words.”

“I get used.”

A dark chuckle. “Damn right you do.”

Hongjoong didn’t hesitate.

His tongue was merciless, rough, unrelenting, licking through your folds like he owned them, like your body existed for this moment alone. And maybe it did. The storm outside cracked like a warning, but nothing inside the room stopped him.

You writhed, gasping, wrists twisting in the restraint of his belt as he licked and sucked, groaning low into you like your taste was his only religion.

Then gone.

“Already shaking?” he muttered, standing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His fingers grabbed your chin, forcing your dazed eyes up to his. “I haven’t even started yet.”

You whimpered as he turned you, pressing your bare back to the wall, your wrists still bound behind you. His other hand gripped your throat, thumb under your jaw, not choking yet just reminding you of the power he held.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Tell me what you are.”

Your lip trembled. “Yours.”

“And?”

“Your slut,” you whispered, thighs pressing together instinctively.

“Louder.”

“Your slut, Hongjoong.. please..”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you like a punishment, lips crushing yours, hand still around your throat, making every breath shallow and desperate. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his thigh between your legs, forcing them apart.

His free hand unzipped his jeans, and your eyes dropped to the way he gripped himself, thick, hard, angry.

“You’re gonna take it all,” he growled. “Don’t care how tight you are. You made this mess, now you’ll fix it.”

He didn’t wait.

One harsh push, your back slammed the wall, and he was fully inside.

You choked on the scream, head falling back, barely held up by the grip around your neck. He held you there, pinned and helpless, thrusting up into you with a brutal pace, the rhythm syncopated with the storm battering the windows.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “All fucked out already, and I’m just getting warmed up.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely moan. Your legs were jelly, but his grip kept you up, one hand on your throat, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

Then he slowed just a little enough to let the tension build.

“You wanna come already, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you sobbed.

“Did I say you could?”

“…no.”

“That’s right.”

He pulled out. You nearly collapsed.

But he wasn’t done.

“On the bed,” he ordered. “Face down. Legs open.”

You stumbled, wrists still bound, body burning. When you made it to the mattress, the cold sheets hit your skin and you shivered.

Then you felt the pressure of his hand on the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillow as he slid back inside you, slower this time, deeper.

"Hold still."

His palm slid from your neck to your lower back, holding you down as he fucked into you with relentless control rougher now, deeper, angrier. You gasped for air as he reached under you to grip your throat again, arching your body back into his.

“You like choking on me and on air, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say it.”

“I love it—”

A particularly hard thrust stole your voice.

“You what?”

“I love it! I love when you use me.. please, Joong, I need..”

“Shut up.”

He held you down, both hands on your hips now, slamming into you as thunder cracked so loud it rattled the windows. You cried out with every thrust, body quaking, tears mixing with the sweat on your skin, the moans torn straight from your chest.

And still, he didn’t stop.

Your vision blurred.

The drag of his cock inside you, the sting of his hands at your hips, the breathless pressure around your throat, it all blurred into one violent rhythm. Your body stopped being yours. It was his. All his.

“Gonna come,” you gasped, sobbed, pleaded, not sure what words were actually leaving your mouth anymore.

“Do it,” Hongjoong growled, hips pounding faster now. “Make a mess on my cock. Let everyone in this shitty motel hear who you belong to.”

You shattered.

The orgasm ripped through you like the thunder outside, no control, no slowing it down, just a scream muffled by the pillow and a blinding white that erased everything else.

But he didn’t stop.

You twitched beneath him, spasming from the force of it, still pinned and bound and sobbing into the sheets.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, breath heavy, voice laced with obsession. “I’m not done. You wanted to tease me all night? Now you take it.”

Your cry turned into a moan too sensitive, too raw as he kept thrusting, every slide of his cock dragging against nerves that were already screaming. Your body jolted under him.

“Fuck. Joong.. I can’t..”

“Yes you can,” he growled, grabbing the belt loop around your wrists, tugging it just enough to arch your back more. “You’re gonna come again. I want to feel you fall apart a second time.”

You sobbed into the mattress, drool pooling under your cheek, your body already twitching and shaking with overstimulation. But your pussy clenched around him like it didn’t know how to stop.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “Crying from one orgasm and still getting wetter. Filthy. Perfect.”

He slammed into you again. And again. Until that second orgasm built, blistering, raw, impossible.

Your body arched on instinct, the belt pulling tighter around your wrists, and when you came again, you screamed your throat raw, vision blacking out at the edges.

But it didn’t stop.

His pace didn’t falter. If anything, it snapped.

“Joong.. please, please.. I can’t..” Your voice cracked, face soaked with tears, but you couldn’t stop clenching around him.

“I know,” he whispered darkly, leaning over your back, his breath hot at your ear. “You’ll take one more for me. Just one. Then I’ll come inside you like I’ve been dying to.”

His hand reached between your legs, two fingers circling your swollen clit.

You screamed, thighs shaking violently, your voice high and broken as your body tried to escape his hand, but his other arm was there, across your back, pinning you in place.

Your third orgasm was a convulsion. A full-body collapse. Your mouth opened in a soundless cry as your body jolted and thrashed under his weight, soaked and wrecked and soaked again.

“Good girl,” he breathed, eyes dark and crazed. “Fucking good girl”

With a final thrust, he stilled, buried deep, and came with a groan so low and primal it made your body clench again just from the sound.

You felt it hot, deep, overwhelming, filling you even as your body trembled, still clenching and twitching around him like you couldn’t stop.

Neither of you moved for a long moment.

The storm cracked outside. Your tears were still falling silently onto the pillow. His breath was ragged above you.

Then—

“I’m going to untie you,” he said quietly, voice finally soft, sliding the belt loose from your wrists. “Don’t move.”

You couldn’t have moved if you tried.

Your wrists were free, but your body wasn’t.

The second Hongjoong slipped the belt off, he didn’t let it drop. His fingers threaded it through his hands like he was preparing a weapon.

“Turn over,” he said quietly, not a request.

You did, barely able to move. Legs spread automatically, thighs sticky and trembling, mascara streaked with tears. Your chest heaved, your eyes glazed. You were a picture of ruin, and he smirked.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that. Eyes on me.”

You whimpered, lips parting.

Then the belt slipped around your throat.

He buckled it, not tight enough to cut off breath, not yet, but snug enough that you felt every movement. Every tug. Every twitch of his hand would control your head, your breath, your body.

He leaned down, chest pressing against yours, lips ghosting your ear.

“You thought I was done?”

A sharp yank on the belt pulled your neck forward, making your lips part in a silent gasp.

“I’m not done until I say you're done.”

You nodded or tried to, but he was already moving again, positioning himself between your legs, one hand yanking the belt to keep your throat taut and your body angled up to meet him.

Then he thrust back in.

Raw.

No warning.

You screamed a ragged, broken sound as he buried himself deep again. Your body jolted from the sudden invasion, still twitching from your last orgasm.

“You’re soaked,” he growled, each word a thrust. “Like your pussy wants to be ruined.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

He fucked into you like he’d been waiting months for this brutal, grinding, unrelenting pulling the belt tighter with every thrust until your moans were broken and breathless.

You could barely breathe. Couldn’t think.

Your hands gripped the sheets, your eyes rolled back, your mouth hung open in a silent cry as the pressure on your throat paired with the pressure in your core.

Tears streamed again.

Not from pain.

From the overwhelming, helpless pleasure ripping you apart. Every thrust, every tug on your throat made your pussy clench, made your vision blur, made you forget your own name.

“Take it,” Hongjoong grunted. “Fucking take it. Look at you crying for me, choking on my cock, shaking like a mess.”

You were a mess.

A bound, belt-collared, come-drenched, tearstained mess.

And you wanted more.

He adjusted his grip, tugging the belt harder to yank your face up, forcing your teary eyes to meet his. You barely managed it.

“One more,” he hissed, hips slamming faster. “You’re going to come for me again. And this time, I’m gonna watch you cry while you do it.”

Your hands clawed at the sheets, hips bucking involuntarily.

You were so close.

Too close.

“Joong, please, it’s too much!”

“Say you want it.”

“I want it,” you sobbed, tears blurring everything. “I want it, I want to come, please”

His hand slipped from the belt to your jaw, gripping it tight as he slammed into you even harder, deeper.

“Fucking do it.”

And you did.

Your body convulsed, eyes wide, throat taut under the belt, scream cracking and raw as your fourth orgasm crashed over you, violent, electric, endless.

You shook. Sobbed. Your body clenched and didn’t stop.

Hongjoong groaned, still moving inside you, slower now, dragging it out, watching you fall apart while still holding your throat like a leash.

He didn’t loosen it.

Not yet.

Your vision was barely holding.

The belt still snug around your throat. Your thighs soaked, trembling, twitching. You couldn’t remember when the tears started or if they ever stopped. All you knew was the feeling of Hongjoong inside you, pushing you to the brink again and again, never letting up.

But now?

Now something changed.

You saw it in his eyes, wild, glassy, feral. His breath was ragged, jaw clenched, and the tight precision that usually defined him was gone.

He wasn't in control anymore. Not of himself.

He yanked your legs higher, knees pressed to your chest, belt still looped around your neck, and then he snapped.

He slammed into you, hips brutal, voice broken with every thrust. “Mine. fuck you’re mine, I don’t.. can’t.. fuck..”

He lost his rhythm.

Lost his grip.

Now he was just fucking, feral, punishing, desperate. Each thrust made the bed creak and slam into the wall, each stroke deeper than the last, like he was trying to carve himself into your body.

“Gonna fill you up,” he choked. “You’re gonna take all of it, every drop. Fuck, you feel so good, I can’t.. can’t stop”

Your hands fumbled to grip his arms, fingernails clawing for purchase, voice gone completely. Your body had nothing left to give, and still, it reacted. Writhing. Clenching. Weeping around him.

You were incoherent. Fucked-out. Eyes wide, mouth open, body twitching.

And that’s when he came undone.

A scream wrenched from his throat, guttural, animal as his hips slammed one last time and he spilled into you, thick, hot, endless. His whole body trembled with it, teeth bared, belt still clutched in one hand like a handle for your soul.

He collapsed over you, forehead to yours, breathing like he’d run a marathon, sweat dripping from his hair onto your skin.

Still buried deep.

Still twitching inside you.

Still leaking into you.

But even then..

He didn’t let go.

His fingers stroked the edge of the belt at your throat, gently now, reverently. His lips brushed your cheek, your temple, your trembling jaw. Voice low, hoarse, shaking:

“You took all of it. Every fucking drop. Mine.”

You nodded barely.

He reached under your thighs, lifting them just enough to hold you flush, keep himself inside you like he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The storm outside had finally begun to fade.

But in that room, between the tangled sheets and belt-wrapped throat, your bodies still echoed with thunder.

You were wrecked. No, demolished.

Every nerve twitched. Your chest rose and fell in short, uneven bursts. Your thighs trembled, slick with sweat and release.

He finally unraveled the belt from your throat, setting it coiled beside your head like a memory, the skin of your throat faintly marked from its hold.

Hongjoong hovered over you, just watching.

His eyes weren’t cold; they were starving. But softer now. Not like a man still hunting like one, admiring the ruins of something he'd conquered.

He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. You flinched from the contact, still too sensitive. He smiled, not teasing this time, but proud. Maybe even reverent.

“You did so good,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Took everything I gave you.”

You swallowed barely, and your voice came out hoarse.

“I always do.”

His smirk returned, faint but full of fire. He bent down and kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then your throat, where the belt had been.

“I almost lost it,” he murmured. “Almost broke.”

“You did.”

He chuckled low in his chest, pulling the covers up over both of you, though the heat between your bodies didn’t need it. He slid in behind you, chest to your back, his hand resting right at the base of your throat, not squeezing, not pulling, just claiming.

The storm outside had quieted to a soft hum.

But your skin still burned. Your breath still hitched. Your pulse still hadn’t caught up.

“You’re mine,” he said again, lower now, half-asleep. “Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin. Mine to hold.”

And you let him.

Because that was always the truth under the thunder, under the sweat, under the bruises and belt marks and unspoken obedience.

You belonged to him. And tonight…

He proved it.

[wooyoungsub]

"Drive You Home, Break You In"

Choi San x Reader | Established Dom/Sub | Explicit

Description: San is driving you home after a party with the rest of the members and some friends. Everything seemed to be going well until San noticed you were flirting with Mingi. Prepare for your punishment...

Word Count: 1634

Warnings: 18+ content, bd/sm, pushing past limits, breath play, overstimulation, choking, slaps

A/N: Hello everyone, this is the first fanfic I have written in over 3 years so I do apologize if my writing is a little crusty. If you have any requests please let me know down below. I hope you enjoy!!

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The leather seats creaked under San's grip as he steered one-handed through the dim streets, jaw clenched, the other hand draped possessively over your thigh. The music was off, silence thick with tension.

You shifted slightly in your seat, the hem of your dress creeping higher from the movement. His fingers tightened. You didn't dare meet his eyes.

"You thought I didn't see you," San said, voice low, dangerous. "Batting your lashes at Mingi. Giggling like you forgot who you belong to."

"I wasn't-"

He squeezed your thigh, and the breath caught in your throat.

"Careful," he warned, turning to glance at you just long enough for his eyes to flash in the dark. "You're already in trouble. No need to dig deeper."

Your stomach flipped. He wasn't yelling. He didn't need to. That tone calm, condescending, full of restrained violence - was worse. And hotter.

He smirked, sending your silence wasn't defiance but anticipation. "Good girl," he murmured, dragging his hand just slightly higher. "You remember your place eventually."

You clenched your thighs, but it was useless the heat was spreading too fast.

"We'll be home in five," he said, voice dropping an octave. "You'll undress, kneel, and keep your hands behind your back. If I see even a hint of attitude..." He let the threat hang, licking his bottom lip slowly. "I'll remind you who's in charge. Thoroughly"

You swallowed hard. Teasing had its consequences. You knew that. Maybe that's why you did it.

He pulled into the driveway and you both make your way into the house. The second the door clicked shut behind you, San's hand was in your hair.

"You know what to do."

You didn't speak. You didn't need to. The air was hot with expectation, and your body moved on autopilot stepping out of your shoes, unzipping your dress. You let it slide to the floor, baring yourself completely, pulse already pounding.

Then you dropped to your knees. Your hands folded behind your back like always, fingers laced, spine straight. But you couldn't resist the smallest twitch of your lips a nervous, teasing smirk as you peeked up at him.

That was all it took.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes gleaming with something animal. "Still mouthy, huh?" He stepped closer, unbuckling his belt at an agonizing pace. "You're practically begging me to break you tonight."

You didn't respond. You weren't allowed to not until he told you to.

He circled you like prey, dragging the leather strap slowly across your shoulder, down your chest, then around your neck. Not right, not yet just enough to make your breath catch.

"I'm going to ruin you," he whispered against your ear, his breath warm and cruel. "And you're going to thank me for it."

With one command "Crawl" you follow him on all fours to the bedroom. The sound of his footsteps, the creak of the bed, your own heartbeat thudding in your ears... it was all too much.

Once you reached the edge of the bed, he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up. His eyes searching yours not for hesitation, but for surrender.

"You're mine," he growled.

You nodded.

"Say it."

"I'm yours, San."

He kissed you bit you rough and hungry, before dragging you up onto the bed like a toy he couldn't wait to tear apart.

Then the real punishment began.

He didn't waste time. The second your back hit the mattress, San had his hand wrapped around your throat not tight, just firm to remind you who you belonged to.

"You looked so pretty tonight," he murmured, pushing your legs open with his knee. "All dressed up, acting shy. But underneath all that sweetness..." leaned down, brushing his lips over your jaw. "You're a filthy little thing, aren't you?"

"Yes," you whispered, voice catching. His fingers flexed slightly around your neck. "Only for you."

He chuckled low and sharp. "Damn right."

Then his hand was between your legs, two fingers slipping between your folds with an obscene wet sound. He didn't tease. Didn't need to. You were soaked.

"Pathetic," he sneered, voice tight with desire. "Already dripping from being told what to do."

You moaned as his fingers thrust deep, curling just right, palm grinding against your clit like he knew your body better than you did. And he did. He's made it his business to.

"You know what happens when you act up in front of others, don't you?" he hissed, withdrawing his fingers and holding them up, glistening. "You get used. Hard."

You whimpered as he shoved the wet fingers into your mouth, forcing your taste onto your tongue.

"Suck."

You did, eyes watering, tongue swirling, lips wrapped tight as he watched you with pure possessive hunger.

"That's my girl," he growled, undoing his pants with one hand. "Now spread those legs wider. I want to watch you come apart."

The stretch when he slid into you was brutal, overwhelming. He gave you no time to adjust, no slow ease in. Just one hard, hungry thrust that had your back arching and a cry slipping part your lips.

"San-"

"Shut up," he snapped, hips slamming into yours again. "I'll tell you when you can make noise."

Your breath hitched, hands still behind your back, nails digging into your own skin as he took you fast, deep, punishing.

"You love this," he grunted, one hand gripping your thigh, the other fisting your hair. "Being used like this. Stretched until you can't take it. Ruined."

"Y-yes-"

A harsh slap to your thigh made you gasp.

"Did I say you could speak?"

You shook your head, biting your lip, moaning low in your throat as he pounded into you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until your forget your won name," he growled, eyes wild now, sweat slick on his chest. "And when I'm done, you'll still beg for more. Won't you?"

You nodded frantically, barely able to breathe, already close.

He saw it.

"Don't you dare come yet," he barked, pulling out abruptly. You nearly sobbed from the loss. But he wasn't done, not even close.

He flipped you over like a ragdoll, yanked your hips up, and slammed back in from behind with a guttural groan. One hand on your hip. The other? Back around your throat.

"You want to come?" he hissed. "You want to be allowed?"

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the word.

He leaned down, teeth at your shoulder, voice in your ear like sin itself. "Then earn it."

Your knees were burning against the sheets, but you didn't dare collapse. Not when his hand was still wrapped around your throat, not when his hips were crashing into you like he had something to prove.

And he did. He always did.

"You think I'm going to let you off easy after the way you acted tonight?" he growled against your ear. "Wearing that dress. Flashing that smile. Do you know what you looked like?"

You whimpered, your body trembling.

"Mine," he spat. "You looked like mine. And now I'm going to fuck you until that's the only thing you remember."

Your body was strung tight, every nerve lit up like fire. Each brutal thrust knocked the air from your lungs, and his grip on your throat made it harder to breathe, harder to think, but you didn't want him to stop. You wanted to break. You wanted to shatter.

And San knew it.

"You're such a good little slut when you're quiet," he said, voice dipped in condescension. "Look at you. Obeying. Taking every inch. So desperate to come you're shaking."

He pulled out again and got sobbed.

"Don't cry" he mocked. "This is what you wanted."

You were shaking now, forehead pressed to the bed, hips still lifted and ready, so ruined and raw and needy. You could barely stay up, your arms trembling behind your back.

San ran his hand down your spine, slow, deliberate. "Beg."

"Please," you whispered. "Please, San. I need you. I need to come. I'll be good, I promise-"

"Oh, I know you will." His voice sharpened. "But I'm not done using you."

He shoved back in with a snarl, and this time there was no rhythm, just filthy, ruthless, thrusts that sent you over the edge so fast it hit like a collapse.

"Come."

The second the command left his lips, your body obeyed. You scream as everything unraveled, pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn't feel your limbs. Your arms finally gave out, your chest hitting the bed, legs twitching as the orgasm tore through every inch of you.

But San didn't stop.

He kept going, grunting, cursing, using you like his favorite toy. You were too sensitive, too raw, tears streaming down your face, but you didn't tell him to stop. You couldn't.

"You take it so well," he groaned, voice wrecked now. "Fuck, baby. Look at you. Just perfect. Fucking perfect."

You barely registered the deep, growled curse when he finally came, deep, hard, spilling inside you with a feral sound. His fingers bit into your hips, hips stuttering through his release, holding you in place like you'd vanish if he let go.

When it was over, there was nothing but ragged breathing and the way his chest pressed to your back as he collapsed over you, still buried deep.

Then - silence.

Until San reached up and gently brushed the hair from your check, his lips soft at your shoulder now.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered.

You nodded weakly, still gasping, your body completely wrecked.

"Color?" He asked - the ritual. The check-in.

"Green," you breathed. "So green."

His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you close, warm and steady now.

"good girl," he murmured, kissing your shoulder again. "You did so fucking well."