S

Stray Kids

Bangchan

The Door That Shouldn’t Have Closed - a f

-Chan’s anger drives y/n out into the cold

Lee Minho

A Love Not Recalled - a f

Part 2

-After an argument that should have never happened, Lee know is left regretful, not realizing he’d need a lot more than apologies to fix the pain

Seo Changbin

-

Hwang Hyunjin

The Cut That Always Bleeds - a

-'Cause you keep me on a rope And tied a noose around my throat You're gone, then back at my door (A Cut That Always Bleeds -Conan Gray)

Han Jisung

Lap Of Luxery- sg

-It’s all fun and games until y/n sits on jisungs lap to sing titanic, now jisung is having not-so holy thoughts.

No way out - Y

-One wrong turn. One fleeting glance. That’s all it took to see Han Jisung for what he really was.

Lee Felix

-

Kim Seungmin

-

Yang Jeongin

Take A Slice - y

-Jeongin was hungry—not for food, but for you. Watching just wasn’t enough anymore.

Run Rabbit, Run!- Y (?)

-Oh silly rabbit, tricks are for kids!

Multiple members

Unsteady roads- h.js, s.cb, y.jn, l.fx - sg

-What was supposed to be a simple car ride turns into absolute chaos when Y/N is forced to sit on Changbin’s lap due to lack of space.

Tomorrow x together

Choi Yeonjun

The Name I Can’t Say - a f

Part 2 Part 3

-your soulmate’s name appears on your wrist when you turn twenty. you’ve spent your whole life dreaming of the moment you’ll finally see yours—until the ink spells out choi yeonjun, your best friend who doesn’t believe in soulmates.

Rematch - s

-“So how about a rematch, huh?”

Choi Soobin

In Session - s

Part 2

-failing math and desperate for help, you ask your sweet, gorgeous classmate soobin to tutor you—offering something… filthier than cash in return.

Too good - s

-where the condom breaks

Choi Beomgyu

Wounds We Keep - a (self harm warning)

-Beomgyu and Y/N find comfort in shared wounds

The Weight Of Goodbye- - a

-Beomgyu left without a reason. You only find out the truth when it’s too late

Bites On My Neck - a

-Beomgyu comes and goes like a ghost, and she lets him—because losing herself feels better than losing him.

All Fixed, Right? - s

- Crease on in your panties? No worries, beomgyu will help loosen them up

Kang Taehyun

Forget We’re Friends - s

- picking up your drunk best friend from a late night out turned out to be the worst best decision you think you’ve ever made

Nasty Dog - s

- you walked in on taehyun jerking off once and he just… kept going. didn’t even flinch. and now it’s like a routine. He gets off next to you constantly, and you never say a word. it’s not weird if you pretend it’s normal, right?

Huening Kai

Love In Every Look - f

- huening has a little problem. He can’t stop looking at you

Multiple Members

You Started It- ot5 txt - s

- A beach day gone wrong—or very, very right. You accidentally pack the wrong bikini. The boys notice. One by one, they take you apart. And you? You take every inch.

(BRO IM LAZY ILL GET TO MAKING THIS LOOK NICE 😭)

Enhypen

Jake

All mine all night

You never thought you’d be the kind of girl two boys fought over, even as a joke. Especially not them. Taehyun and Yeonjun were always so effortlessly cool, so magnetic, always surrounded by friends and noise and that boyish chaos you envied but never quite belonged to. You were the soft presence in the corner, the roommate who shuffled by in baggy shirts and mismatched socks, glasses perpetually sliding down your nose, hair pulled back because you couldn’t be bothered most days.

You were the “sister,” the “cutie,” the punchline to every harmless joke, the person they leaned on but never leaned into. Or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself. In your head, they only noticed you when you forgot to do your dishes or when you wandered out of your room for late-night snacks, a ghost haunting the kitchen at 2am in some fuzzy pajama pants with cartoon cats.

So when Taehyun called your name that night, voice already laced with mischief and too much energy for a Thursday, you barely poked your head out of your doorway. He and Yeonjun were sprawled on the living room rug, half-untangled from a Mario Kart tournament, surrounded by snacks and empty soda cans, laughter bouncing off the cheap apartment walls. Taehyun looked up first, eyes flicking over the oversized hoodie you wore, the one with the sleeves chewed at the cuffs, and the old pair of leggings that barely reached your ankles. Yeonjun smirked when he saw you, dimples deepening, tapping his phone screen with a lazy rhythm.

You barely managed a mumble. “What?”

Taehyun shot you his most dramatic pout. “There’s a party at Beomgyu’s place. You’re coming, right?”

Panic fluttered in your chest instantly. You’d never fit at those parties. Everyone knew it, even if they didn’t say it out loud. The girls all had perfect eyeliner and long, painted nails, clothes tight in all the right places. The guys wore too much cologne and fake confidence. You didn’t belong there, not with your bare face and soft, round stomach, the way you always felt like your body was apologizing for taking up space. You shook your head, hugging your arms tighter around yourself, voice barely above a whisper. “No way. Not my scene. You two have fun, though.”

Yeonjun made a sound of protest, rolling over onto his back with a dramatic groan. “Come on, it’ll be fun! You never do anything with us anymore. Don’t be a loser.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a loser, I’m just tired. Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.”

He grinned, sensing blood in the water. “Liar. I bet you have something cute hidden in that closet.”

You flushed so hard you could feel it in your ears. The last thing you needed was for them to start poking around in your things, but Taehyun was already climbing to his feet, determined and annoyingly persistent. He marched past you, smirking, and you squeaked out his name, but he just threw you a wink over his shoulder. “If you’re not gonna pick something, we will.”

Yeonjun was right behind him, snatching up your hand and dragging you after them. You tried to protest, but it all came out as helpless giggles, your feet shuffling over the carpet as the boys burst into your tiny room like it was their own. Your closet was a disaster: layers of sweaters and hoodies and soft, washed-out t-shirts, all safe, familiar armor against the world. Taehyun started sifting through hangers, holding up shirts and making faces at your old jeans, tossing them onto the bed in a growing mountain. “Jesus, you really do dress like a grandma.”

Yeonjun hopped onto your bed, folding his legs under him, eyes sparkling with the thrill of invading your privacy. “She’s a little gremlin, isn’t she? You ever seen her in anything that isn’t three sizes too big?”

You could barely form a comeback, embarrassment burning in your chest. You grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him off your bed, but he just grinned wider, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “C’mon, cutie, we know you’re hiding something spicy in here.”

And then Taehyun went silent. You turned to see him frozen, hand deep in the back of your closet, eyes wide as his fingers brushed over something black and unfamiliar. He pulled it free, a strange little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. In his hands was the dress. The one you bought months ago on a whim, the one you’d never worn, tags still attached, tucked so deep behind your winter coats you’d honestly forgotten about it. The fabric was sleek, scandalous by your standards. Thin straps, soft as a whisper, a neckline that dipped just a little too low. You felt naked just looking at it.

Yeonjun’s eyebrows shot up so high you thought they might disappear into his hairline. He let out a slow, appreciative whistle, reaching over to flick the dress against Taehyun’s knuckles. “Now this is what I’m talking about! Since when do you own something like this?”

Taehyun’s grin grew, mischievous and… something else you couldn’t name. “Did you buy this for yourself, or are you tryna seduce someone behind our backs?”

You wanted to die. There was no hole deep enough to bury yourself in. You grabbed for the dress, but Yeonjun held it out of reach, waggling his eyebrows and taunting you in that sing-songy voice you hated and secretly adored. “Explain yourself, cutie. We’re all dying to know.”

You stared at the floor, mortified, twisting your fingers in your sleeve. “It’s not a big deal. I just—got bored one day and it was on sale. I thought… maybe I’d wear it if I ever felt like looking pretty. Never happened. Can you put it back, please?”

The room went quiet. Not teasing quiet but something else. Taehyun was still watching you, his gaze different now, softer but also weirdly intense, tracing over your face, your hands, the way you couldn’t meet his eyes. Yeonjun’s smirk faded, replaced by something almost gentle as he handed the dress back to you.

“You’d look hot in this,” he said, voice low, almost careful. “I mean it.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Compliments from them were usually sarcastic, some punchline trailing behind. This one landed and stuck, making your chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. You mumbled, “You’re just messing with me.”

Taehyun moved closer, not quite touching you, but close enough you could feel the heat of his body, the scent of his shampoo, his cologne mingled with something warm and boyish. “We’re not messing with you. I don’t know why you hide yourself so much. You’re cute as hell, you know that?”

Your heart was pounding so loud you thought they might hear it. You squeezed the dress in your hands, fingers twisting the silky fabric. “I don’t want to stand out,” you whispered, almost hoping they wouldn’t catch it.

Yeonjun snorted, half exasperated, half fond. “You stand out all the time, dummy. Why do you think we’re always bothering you?”

You didn’t have an answer. You’d always figured it was just brotherly teasing, the way boys poke fun at the girls they see as harmless. But now, in the tight hush of your room, with two sets of eyes fixed on you, you realized you didn’t actually know what they thought at all.

Yeonjun dropped onto his knees in front of you, dramatic as ever, clutching your hand in both of his and giving you that desperate puppy-dog face he only used when he really wanted something. “Please? Wear it to the party. Just this once. For us?”

You gawked at him, laughter bubbling up despite yourself. “You want me to die of embarrassment?”

Taehyun collapsed on the bed beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, his body heavy and comforting, voice melting into your ear. “No one will mess with you, swear to god. I’ll beat anyone up who tries anything, including yeonjun. Especially yeonjun.”

Yeonjun glared up at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had shifted. Instead of dread, you felt… something lighter. An unfamiliar giddiness from the fact that they actually wanted you there as someone they enjoyed. The dress was still in your hands, your palms sweating around the fabric, nerves twisting in your belly. You looked from one to the other, the way Taehyun’s hair flopped over his forehead, the stubborn set of his jaw, the hope barely disguised in his eyes. Yeonjun’s smirk was softer now, almost nervous, his fingers idly tracing shapes along your shoulder as if he didn’t know what else to do with them.

You felt the pressure in the room like a held breath, all three of you caught in the question you weren’t quite brave enough to ask. What if you really wore it? What if you stepped out of your safe clothes, your safe routine, your safe self, just for one night? What if you let them see you, all of you?

You didn’t realize you’d nodded until Taehyun whooped, launching to his feet. Yeonjun squeezed your shoulder, laughter rumbling deep in his chest.

“Atta girl,” Taehyun grinned, backing toward the door. “You better make us proud.”

Yeonjun winked, all slow confidence but his cheeks were pink, eyes lingering on you for a beat too long. “We’ll be waiting. Don’t take all night.”

They filed out, closing your door behind them, but you could hear them bickering in the hallway, voices dropping to teasing whispers you couldn’t quite make out. For a minute you just stood there, dress pressed against your chest, heart thudding wild and reckless.

It was terrifying. And kind of thrilling. Maybe even, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like hiding. Not when they were waiting on the other side of the door. Not when you could still feel Yeonjun’s hand on your shoulder and Taehyun’s eyes on your face, both of them looking at you like you were something more than just their “sister.” Like maybe, just maybe, you could be something else.

You turned the dress over in your hands, nervous and stupidly hopeful, wondering how the night would change if you just let it. Wondering what would happen if you finally stepped out of the corner and let them see everything you’d been hiding. You didn’t know yet, but you wanted to find out.

In the living room, Taehyun and Yeonjun waited, their jokes fading into a quieter, breathless anticipation, both of them wondering why the thought of you in that dress made it suddenly so damn hard to breathe.

✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ᜔ ✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ✿ྀི

The dress sits in your hands for ages before you can even make yourself move. The black fabric shimmers a little in the lamplight. Unapologetic, nothing like the safe, baggy clothes you drown yourself in every day. You’re already blushing, already squirming at the idea of showing skin, but the memory of Taehyun on his knees, Yeonjun’s voice all breathy and soft, the way they really looked at you… It lights up something reckless inside you. you don’t belong at the party, the dress is too much, but you want to be someone new for a night, or just brave enough to show them the you they’ve never seen.

You peel off your old hoodie, your tee, leggings puddling around your ankles, feeling exposed in just your plain bra and cotton underwear. In the mirror, your reflection is unfiltered: belly soft and round, thighs thick and marked with the little dents of everyday life, your chest pushed up high and full in the cheap bra you only bought for comfort. You look like yourself, every insecurity screaming at you that you’re not enough, not pretty enough, not the kind of girl who belongs in something this tight, this revealing.

The dress slips over your head like a dare. The first shock is the cold fabric, slick and strange on your skin, settling across your shoulders with feather-light straps. Then it sinks, lower and lower, the way the dress hugs, and you mean… hugs, your curves. It clings to your waist, skims every dip and roll, rides up along your hips until you’re tugging it down, face burning. Your chest is suddenly… there, framed by the low neckline, spilling out in a way you’re not used to seeing. You shift, the hem threatening to ride up, tugging the material again and again, fingers shaking. You want to laugh, or scream, or crawl out of your own skin.

Your glasses feel too big for your face, your bra feels too old for this outfit, and your thighs rub together in a way that’s loud in the silence of your bedroom. You turn in the mirror, twisting side to side, looking for the angle that doesn’t make you want to hide. You don’t find it. All you see is skin, rolls, the softest parts of you on display for the first time in forever. It feels wrong. It feels stupid. You almost rip the dress off and go back to your pajamas, almost lock yourself in your room for the night and tell them you’re sick. But you hear Taehyun and Yeonjun’s voices in the living room, low and buzzing, the occasional curse and laugh. You picture the way they looked at you like they meant it.

Your heart slams against your chest. Screw it. Maybe you look dumb. Maybe you’ll regret this forever. But you said you’d try. You square your shoulders, swipe at your glasses, wipe your sweaty palms on your thighs, and open your bedroom door.

The living room is loud with laughter, the boys half-wrestling over something stupid on the TV, but when you step into the light, all wobbly knees and shy posture, it all goes silent. Yeonjun’s eyes hit you first, wide and a little wild, the remote falling from his hand as he sits up straighter. Taehyun turns, a joke already on his lips, but the words die there, his mouth parting in shock as he takes you in.

You freeze, standing on the threshold, arms crossed tight over your belly. “Guys, please be honest,” you say, barely able to get the words out. “Does this dress look dumb?”

Neither of them says anything for a long, brutal moment. Yeonjun blinks, eyes crawling down your body. His eyes stay lingering on the curve of your thighs, the shape of your ass, the soft, exposed swell of your chest pressing against the neckline. He looks away, only to look right back, jaw clenching, trying not to stare. Jesus fucking Christ, his brain screams, the sight of you in that dress hitting him like a punch to the dick. He’d been half-hard just thinking about you all week. Your little giggles, the way you always smelled like vanilla and clean laundry, the way you curled up in the corner of the couch, sucking on your thumb when you thought no one was watching. But this? This is fucking torture.

His cock throbs in his jeans, stiffening hard, so fast it almost hurts. He shifts on the couch, trying to hide it, crossing one leg over the other, dragging a throw pillow onto his lap like it’s casual. But he can’t take his eyes off you. He wants to tell you the truth: that you look fucking edible, that every inch of you is perfect, that he’s spent way too many nights jerking off to the memory of your laugh and the flash of your thighs when you bent over to pick up laundry. He wants to say he’d die to see you like this every day, in nothing but this dress and those sweet little glasses, hair all messy and lips bitten red.

Taehyun is no better. He swallows, throat tight, blood rushing straight to his cock as he stares you down. Every single insecurity you have, he finds hot. The way your thighs squeeze together under the tight hem, the little bulge of your belly, the way your tits are just fucking begging to be touched, spilling over the edge of the dress, your glasses crooked and fogged at the edges. He tries to smirk, to play it cool, but he’s buzzing with dirty thoughts. Imagining you pressed up against a wall, legs spread, dress hiked up over your ass while you whimper and beg, his name falling from your lips. He shifts in his seat, adjusting himself with a subtle tug, the denim of his jeans suddenly way too tight, the tip of his cock leaking just from looking at you.

You don’t see any of this, of course. All you see are their eyes, locked on you, mouths a little open, neither one making a joke for the first time in their lives. You fidget, wrapping your arms around your stomach, wishing the dress was longer, thicker, that it could hide you from their gaze. “Seriously,” you mumble, trying to keep your voice steady. “If I look ridiculous, just tell me. I’ll go change. I shouldn’t have—”

Yeonjun finally finds his voice, but it comes out rough, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “You look… really good,” he says, eyes darting away, but his cheeks are bright pink and his legs are spread, one big hand pressed flat over his thigh as if he’s trying to will his erection away.

Taehyun lets out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair, trying to play it off but failing spectacularly. “Yeah. Holy shit, you—uh—yeah, you look fucking amazing.” He tries to keep his eyes on your face, but they keep dropping, devouring every inch of skin the dress shows off. His cock is aching, throbbing, straining against his zipper. He tries to adjust himself again, praying you won’t notice, sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

The silence stretches, thick and heavy, their gazes all over you. You squirm, shifting your weight, the fabric riding up your thighs. You tug it down, awkward and mortified. “I feel stupid,” you admit, voice trembling. “It’s too tight. I look like I’m trying too hard.”

Yeonjun swallows hard, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out what he really thinks. You look like you’re trying to make me cum in my pants. Instead, he forces a grin, his gaze gentle but hungry. “You don’t. Trust me. If anyone gives you shit tonight, I’ll—” He breaks off, catching himself, voice hoarse. “I’ll handle it.”

Taehyun nods, a little too fast, fists clenching in his lap. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s thinking, because he can’t stop picturing you straddling his lap, the way your thighs would spread, the way the dress would hike up and show everything. He wonders if you’re even wearing panties under there. He can’t help it—he imagines pushing your knees apart, just to see. His cock throbs painfully and he shifts again, making a show of leaning forward, elbows on his knees, anything to keep you from seeing the tent in his pants.

You fumble with the hem, looking like you want to disappear. “So it’s not… too much?”

Taehyun manages to shake his head, but he can barely look at you, because if he does, he’s going to say something filthy, something like ‘no, it’s not enough, let me see more, let me taste you, please’. Instead he laughs, soft and low. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t change.”

Yeonjun nods, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood, his cock twitching again under the pillow. He wants to get up, walk across the room, press you up against the wall and tell you every dirty thing he’s ever thought about you. How many nights he’s jerked off thinking about your moans, your face twisted up with pleasure, how desperate he is to bury his face between your thighs and make you forget every single insecurity you’ve ever had. But he can’t. Not yet. So he just stares, trying to memorize every inch, every curve, every tremble in your lip, eyes dark and heavy with lust.

You shift your weight, chewing your bottom lip, glasses slipping down your nose. “You guys are just saying that. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Yeonjun’s eyes go hot, frustrated, the need rising inside him so intense he can barely sit still. If only you fucking knew, he thinks. If only you could see the way he’s fighting not to palm his hard cock right there in front of you. He glances at Taehyun, sees the same tension in his jaw, the way his hand keeps sneaking down to adjust himself, how he keeps staring at your thighs.

Taehyun’s mind is filthy. He wants to see you bend over in that dress, wants to watch it ride up your ass, wants to see you blushing, gasping, begging. He wants to push your glasses up and kiss every inch of your face, wants to feel your thighs tremble around his head. He’s never been so hard in his life and he’s pissed about it, because there’s no way you don’t notice the bulge in his pants, the way he keeps fidgeting, sweat shining at his temples.

You take a shaky breath, still standing there in the middle of the living room, the boys both ogling you, trying and failing to look normal. You don’t move, don’t even realize how much they’re suffering, how close they are to saying fuck the party and dragging you back to bed, but neither of them wants to ruin it, neither of them wants to scare you, so they sit there, hard as rocks, eyes glued to you and breathing you in, drowning in their own filthy fantasies.

Yeonjun manages to find a shred of self-control, scraping his nails along the throw pillow, knuckles white. “You look incredible, okay? Just… trust us.” His voice is soft, but his eyes are hungry, dragging over every inch of you like he’s undressing you with his mind.

Taehyun just nods, a strangled sound escaping him, legs spread wide and cock visibly straining against his jeans. He doesn’t care if you notice anymore. He wants you to see. He wants you to know.

You look between them, still shy, still unsure, but you let yourself breathe. You let yourself stand a little taller. You let the dress hug your curves and let their gazes linger, hot and messy and wanting.

Neither of them blink. Both are hard, desperate, and praying you’ll stay in that dress a little longer, that the party lasts forever, that you never go back to hiding yourself again.

✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ᜔ ✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ✿ྀི

The night air pricks at your skin, every breeze a reminder of just how much skin you’re showing. You, Taehyun, and Yeonjun pile into the back of the Uber—Taehyun sliding in first, Yeonjun quick to follow, practically boxing you in between their bodies. The driver offers a polite hello, but you barely manage more than a mumbled “hi,” too busy tugging at the hem of your dress, trying to keep it from riding up your thighs, palms already clammy on your little bag.

Taehyun sits closest to the door, his left hand tucked into his pocket, the other resting casually on his knee, but you feel the occasional graze of his pinky against your leg—a touch so light it sends a jolt through your body each time .The streetlights paint quicksilver patterns over his sharp jaw as he turns to check on you, his mouth quirking in a grin when he catches you fussing with your dress.

Yeonjun’s on your other side, all nervous energy and crooked smiles, his thigh pressed against yours, warm through the thin fabric. He nudges your shoulder, his breath hot in your ear as he leans in to whisper, “You keep messing with it, it’s gonna get even shorter.” He’s teasing, pretending not to notice the way your hand keeps shaking or how you keep glancing at your reflection in the window, checking your lipstick, making sure your glasses aren’t sliding down your nose.

The car is quiet except for the low hum of the radio and the sound of the driver occasionally clearing his throat. Every time you pass under a streetlamp, you feel the flicker of light and shadow skitter over your bare legs, your chest, the bit of thigh you can’t seem to hide no matter how you tug at your dress. Taehyun catches your eye and winks, murmuring, “Relax, you look fucking gorgeous.” You roll your eyes but your cheeks burn, heat pooling low in your belly.

Yeonjun leans back, stretching his arms along the back of the seat, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder. “Seriously,” he says, his voice so soft only you can hear, “stop stressing. You’re gonna be the hottest one there.” He says it with a playful edge, but there’s something else in his eyes—a hunger he doesn’t even try to hide.

You cross your legs, wishing the ride was over and wishing it would last forever all at once. You feel them both watching you in the dark glass, their gazes heavy and hungry, their bodies pressed close, the driver none the wiser to the mess of tension tangled up in the back seat. You don’t know whether you want to hide or climb into their laps, but the closer you get to the party, the more you realize: tonight, you’re not invisible. Not even a little.

When the Uber finally pulls to a stop at Beomgyu’s place, Taehyun slides out first, straightening his jacket, reaching in to help you out. Yeonjun lingers close behind, his hand pressed low to your back as the driver gives a distracted “have a good night,” but the real heat is all in the way your roommates look at you, like they’re already planning to ruin you before the night is even half over.

And as you step out onto the curb, the music thumping from the house, the porch crowded with strangers, you finally let your hands fall from your dress. Taehyun and Yeonjun fall in close on either side, protective and proud.

Yeonjun circles around to your side, his presence warm and steady. He flashes you a quick, reassuring grin, but even his eyes can’t hide the flicker of pride—like he knows exactly what you’re feeling, and he wants you to see yourself the way he sees you. Taehyun is close on your other side, hovering just behind, his hand finding the small of your back, thumb tracing slow circles there as you start toward the house.

It’s a short walk—twenty steps, maybe less—but it feels like a runway. Every stride is a performance you never rehearsed. The party is already in full swing: people are sprawled on the porch, cigarettes glowing between their fingers, laughter peeling out into the night. Someone’s perched in the open kitchen window, legs dangling, their face turning just as you pass by.

You keep your gaze glued to the cracks in the pavement, heart in your throat. But you feel them—the stares, the whispered comments, the way a group of guys clustered by the bushes fall silent, then burst into laughter, a little too loud, their eyes following your every step. Girls in crop tops and glossy lips cast quick, sharp glances your way, sizing up your dress, your body, your awkward posture.

You hug your arms a little tighter around yourself, fighting the urge to bolt. Are they judging me? Are they laughing? The question spins in your head, louder than the music now. Your face is on fire, and your steps falter just a little.

Yeonjun leans in, voice low, close to your ear. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, not for the first time tonight. “They’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you, that’s all.”

Taehyun’s hand squeezes your waist, steady, grounding. “Almost there,” he teases, trying to make you laugh, but you know he’s watching, too—ready to step in if anyone gets bold.

You reach the bottom of the steps. The porch is crowded, bodies pressed together, red plastic cups in every hand, the air thick with the smell of beer and cologne and anticipation. The front door swings open, spilling yellow light and more noise onto the lawn. Someone recognizes Taehyun, claps him on the shoulder, and he just grins, tugging you closer, protective and proud.

Your heart stutters. You force yourself to look up, just for a second. And you see it—all the eyes on you, every head turning, every conversation pausing as you pass, some people’s gazes hungry, some surprised, some appraising, but none of them laughing.

You swallow, shoulders back, trying to remember how to breathe. One night, you remind yourself. Just one night.

You step through the door, squeezed between Yeonjun and Taehyun, and the party swallows you whole.

Inside is chaos. Pulsing music, sweat, the sickly-sweet tang of alcohol in the air. Beomgyu is already trashed, hugging strangers and shouting over the music, waving you all inside. “Look at you! Damn, who is this?” he calls, waggling his eyebrows at you, but Taehyun flips him off with a grin, keeping you close as you push through the crush of bodies.

You barely register the blur of faces, the heat of the house, the way the bass thrums through your bones. You can’t tell if people are staring because you look ridiculous or because—just maybe—you look good. It’s dizzying. You try to keep your head down, avoiding every gaze, but Taehyun and Yeonjun don’t let you hide.

Taehyun leans close, voice pitched low against your ear. “You okay?”

You nod, though your hands are shaking. Yeonjun snags a solo cup from the kitchen counter, thrusting it into your grip. “Here, this’ll help. Trust us.” He flashes you that wicked little smile that always gets him out of trouble, but tonight it’s softer, almost nervous.

You take a sip, then another, the burn of cheap liquor making your cheeks warm, your muscles slacken. Taehyun is next to you, refilling his cup, eyes scanning the crowd, keeping you boxed in like he’s daring anyone to come near. Yeonjun nudges your hip, making you giggle, and suddenly it’s easier—every laugh, every little touch, the boys propping you up, the drinks going down too fast.

One shot turns to three, turns to four. Someone brings over a bottle of something blue and sweet, and Taehyun pours you a cup, insisting you have to at least try it. Yeonjun takes a shot for every one you do, all bravado and bad jokes, his hand pressed low against your back every time you take a drink, his body leaning into yours, letting his lips graze your ear as he makes you laugh. You’re warm all over now—liquid courage fizzing in your veins, nerves melting away, music thumping through your chest.

After a while, you stop noticing the stares. You start laughing too loudly, your body buzzing and loose, your inhibitions unraveling with every new song and every accidental brush of Taehyun’s hand against your waist, Yeonjun’s knee pressed to yours as you all cram together on a too-small sofa.

Yeonjun’s hand keeps drifting, “accidentally” resting on your bare thigh for a beat too long, thumb tracing gentle, lazy circles over your skin while he tells you some dumb story. Taehyun leans in from your other side, close enough that his breath stirs the hairs at your temple, his hand splayed warm over your lower back, thumb tapping, tapping, tapping, as if he can’t stand not to be touching you. Their bodies are heavy, warm, everywhere. The drinks make everything blurry and bright, their laughter mixing with the music, your heart thumping double-time every time they look at you for a second too long.

Yeonjun can’t stop thinking about how you look in the dress. He’s drunk enough now that his self-control is unraveling, every touch an excuse to get closer. The way the fabric hugs your hips, the way your thighs spread out on the sofa, the soft spill of your breasts just barely contained by the neckline. He wants to slide his hand up, to find the skin under the hem, to press his mouth to the hollow of your throat and bite down just to hear you whimper. His cock’s been aching since you stepped out of your room—hard as stone and twitching every time you laugh, every time you lean into him, your arm brushing his, your scent filling his head. He’s thinking about fucking you right here, about getting you alone in the bathroom and hiking the dress up, making you sit on the counter while he mouths at your pussy until you’re crying his name. He shouldn’t be thinking this. You’re his friend. His roommate. But with every drink, every shy little glance, he forgets why he’s supposed to hold back.

Taehyun’s in just as deep. He’s watching you laugh, cheeks flushed, glasses sliding down your nose, your mouth slick and pink from the sticky drinks. He’s imagining you on your knees, the dress pooling around your thighs, your mouth opening for him, spit trailing down your chin as you look up with those big, nervous eyes. He can’t stop touching you—his hand finding excuses to graze your waist, his thigh pressed so hard to yours he can feel the heat of you, can feel you trembling just a little every time he moves. He’s drunk and stupid, but all he wants is to mark you up, to make you squirm, to see just how messy you can get for him.

You don’t know any of this. All you know is you feel good—the drinks, the music, your body loose and alive for the first time in ages. The boys keep you close, never leaving your side, their hands on your waist, your thigh, your shoulder. You’re so warm you could melt, giddy with the attention, your insecurities drowned in the tide of their touches and the haze of alcohol.

Eventually, the music shifts, the beat deepening, the crowd thickening in the living room. Someone calls out for everyone to dance, and Taehyun tugs you up, grinning, dragging you and Yeonjun out to the floor. You stumble a little, giggling, the boys’ hands steadying you, their arms wrapped around you from both sides. The dance floor is packed, sweaty, pulsing with bodies and heat and neon lights.

Yeonjun presses up behind you, hands settling on your hips, his body big and hard and so close you can feel every inch. Taehyun is in front, hands on your waist, his face bright with laughter, but his eyes are dark, hungry, almost predatory as they trace over your flushed skin. The three of you start moving—awkward at first, bumping and giggling, but the music is so loud and the drinks so heavy that you lose yourself in it, hips swaying, arms draped over Taehyun’s shoulders, Yeonjun’s chest pressed flush against your back.

You’re sandwiched between them, every movement a tease, every sway of your hips grinding your ass against Yeonjun’s crotch, your belly brushing up against Taehyun’s abs. Yeonjun’s hands tighten on your waist, his breath hot against your ear, chest heaving as he rocks his hips forward, cock stiff and pulsing in his jeans. He can’t help himself—he starts grinding, slow and subtle at first, but the friction is too much, his mind gone, lost in the need to feel more. He’s thinking about grabbing your hair, about bending you over right here, about pressing his cock up between your thighs until you’re dripping for him, not caring who sees.

Taehyun’s grip slips lower, his hands sliding to your hips, then lower still, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass as you grind into him. His cock is throbbing, hard and leaking, every brush of your body sending electric shocks straight through him. He starts to move in time with you, his hips rolling, his chest brushing your tits as you press closer. He can smell you—sweet, a little sweaty, that vanilla note that drives him fucking wild. His thoughts are filthier than ever: he’s picturing you riding him, moaning, dress bunched up around your waist, his hands leaving bruises on your thighs.

You lose track of the music, the people around you. All you feel is heat, their bodies pressed to yours, their hands everywhere—your waist, your hips, your ass, fingers digging in, kneading, groping, holding you in place as you move together. You throw your head back, laughing, grinding harder, the alcohol making you bold, careless, reckless.

Yeonjun growls low in your ear, lips brushing your neck. “You’re fucking killing me, you know that?” His hands slide up, cupping your sides, fingers grazing the swell of your tits through the thin fabric. His cock is so hard it hurts, pressed against your ass, every little grind making him bite his tongue to keep from moaning.

Taehyun leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, voice hot and ragged. “You look so fucking good. You have no idea what you’re doing to us.” His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, grinding his cock against your stomach, desperate for more.

You’re lost in them, the world fading away, nothing but heat and sweat and the desperate friction of three bodies moving together, lost in the music, lost in the alcohol, lost in the messy, tangled need that’s been simmering under the surface for months. You don’t care who sees. You don’t care if people are watching. For the first time, you feel wanted—really wanted, every insecurity stripped away by the way they hold you, touch you, lose themselves in you.

The dance gets messier, filthier, their hands exploring, squeezing, teasing, never quite crossing that final line but coming so close you ache for more. Yeonjun grinds into your ass, groaning softly, his mind a wreck of dirty fantasies: you on your knees, you on the couch, you begging for his cock, begging for both of them at once. Taehyun is just as gone, grinding into your front, hands slipping dangerously close to places he shouldn’t touch, his mouth ghosting over your cheek, your jaw, wanting to kiss you, wanting to ruin you.

You’re dizzy, panting, your head spinning from the alcohol and the attention, the way their hands feel on your skin, the way their cocks press into you from both sides. You arch your back, pressing harder into Yeonjun, rolling your hips against Taehyun, your body burning with need you didn’t know you had. You want to be touched, to be devoured, to be theirs.

But the song changes, the moment snaps, and suddenly you’re all laughing, breathless, the world rushing back in. The boys pull you close, hugging you tight, but their hands linger, their eyes dark and desperate, every thought they have written plain across their faces. You don’t know how you’re going to survive the rest of the night. You don’t know how you’re going to keep pretending this is all just fun, just friends.

And neither do they.

They’re both so hard it hurts, so desperate for you it’s a miracle they haven’t dragged you into the nearest empty room and made you theirs. Every brush, every laugh, every sloppy grind is another drop in the ocean, another crack in the dam. The line between friendship and something more is long gone—blown apart by heat and need and the feel of your body between theirs.

But for now, you’re still just dancing. Still just friends. Still pretending you don’t know exactly what’s happening.

✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ᜔ ✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ✿ྀི

You’re burning. Your skin tingles, dress sticking to the sweat at the back of your thighs, every nerve alive and frantic. You barely register the song blaring through the speakers or the crush of bodies moving around you. All you know is the way Taehyun’s hands keep grazing the bare skin of your waist, the way Yeonjun’s mouth ghosts so close to your ear, the feeling of two hard cocks pressed against you through layers of fabric—making you so wet and needy you’re honestly scared you’re going to do something stupid. It’s like the whole room has narrowed down to the three of you: the bass, the heat, the taste of cheap vodka clinging to your lips, their hands and hips and breath all tangled up in yours.

But eventually you realize you need air—or at least space to catch your breath, maybe cool down your face and thighs before you lose your mind. You pull back, but their hands linger, Taehyun’s thumb dragging slow over your hip, Yeonjun’s palm sliding along your back, his fingers curling in the strap of your dress like he can’t let go. “Hey,” you say, breathless and trying to sound casual, “I gotta use the bathroom.”

Taehyun’s mouth dips, eyes flicking down your body, like he’s memorizing the way you look right now. “You want us to come with you?” he teases, voice pitched low—almost growly.

You laugh and shove at his shoulder, but you can’t help glancing down, too aware of the heat swirling in your belly. “I think I can handle it,” you say, and he finally lets you go, his touch trailing off slow, deliberate. Yeonjun grins, but it’s strained—his hand squeezing your waist a beat longer than necessary before dropping away. You feel them watching as you push through the crowd, the air thick with sweat and hormones and the sticky sweetness of spilled drinks.

Your skin’s on fire as you wind through the house, the music dimming behind you. You spot a bathroom down the hall, but before you can reach for the handle, someone steps in your path—a guy with fluffy brown hair, tall and broad-shouldered, kind eyes under soft brows. He’s leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting, but when he smiles, it’s open and shy, nothing like the cocky frat boys you’re used to dodging at these parties.

“Hey,” he says, voice just loud enough to cut through the noise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to block you—are you looking for the bathroom?”

You nod, blinking up at him, mind still hazy from the dancing and the drinks. He smiles wider, tucking his hands into his pockets, and for some reason you find yourself relaxing just a bit. “It’s actually a little tricky to find. I’m Jake.” He extends his hand and you shake it, cheeks hot. “You look like you’re having a good time out there.”

You shrug, giggling, trying not to let your eyes dart back to the dance floor where you know Taehyun and Yeonjun are probably still staring holes in your back. “I guess so. The drinks help,” you joke, and Jake laughs, the sound warm and sincere.

He’s not like most guys at these parties—he’s not leering, not ogling, not even glancing down your dress, though you know you’re basically spilling out of it by now. He’s looking right at you, listening, his posture easy, smile inviting. You don’t see the way his gaze lingers just a little too long on your mouth, or the way his eyes soften when you laugh. To you, he just seems… nice.

Jake’s asking you questions—how you know Beomgyu, whether you’re in school, if you live around here. You answer honestly, a little more bubbly than usual thanks to the vodka, warmth blooming in your cheeks. He tells you he’s friends with Sunghoon, that he doesn’t come out much, but he’s glad he did tonight. “Honestly, it’s not so bad when you meet someone interesting,” he says, and you beam, genuinely touched. You don’t realize he means you, that he’s flirting, that he’s trying to get close.

He leans in, just a little, voice dropping lower. “You’re really cute, by the way. Sorry, I just had to say it.”

You laugh, waving him off, not quite believing he means it. “You’re sweet, but I’m kind of a mess tonight,” you protest, but Jake just grins, shaking his head. “No, really. You look great. Way better than most people here, trust me.”

The conversation’s easy—easier than you expected. You start to relax, thinking maybe you’re not as out of place as you always fear. Maybe you could even make a new friend. You’re so wrapped up in your own awkward happiness that you don’t notice the dark eyes burning into you from across the room.

Back by the edge of the dance floor, Taehyun and Yeonjun are glued to you, barely pretending to enjoy the music, all their attention honed on the way Jake leans in, the way he makes you laugh, the way his hand lingers just a little too close to your bare arm.

Yeonjun’s jaw clenches so tight his teeth ache. He’d watched you slip away, his cock still half-hard and aching from the dance floor, chest tight with the memory of your body pressed to his, your ass grinding against his dick like you fucking knew what you were doing. He was still lightheaded, body thrumming with need, and the only thing keeping him sane was the way you’d smiled at him before you left, shy and a little tipsy, eyes shining with that soft, hesitant hope he never saw in anyone else. But now, watching some other guy step into your space, watching you laugh at his stupid jokes, watching Jake inch closer and closer, Yeonjun feels something dark coil in his gut.

He wants to march over and grab you, wants to press his mouth to yours and remind you who you belong to. He wants to tell Jake to fuck off, that you’re taken, that you’ve always been his, even if you don’t know it yet. Every muscle in his body is tight, cock twitching in his jeans, his mind a mess of jealousy and raw, possessive want. He tries to tell himself it’s nothing, that you’re just being friendly, that Jake’s just another random guy. But the way you smile, the way your hand lingers on Jake’s forearm, the way you lean in when he whispers something in your ear—Yeonjun feels like he’s going to explode.

Taehyun’s no better. He’s been riding the high of your body on his all night, the way you fit so perfectly between him and Yeonjun, the way you melted against him on the dance floor, every soft sound and breath sending sparks through his body. Now, watching Jake with you, his blood runs hot, jealousy pulsing low in his gut. He’s never seen you smile like that, never seen you so at ease with anyone but him and Yeonjun. It pisses him off, even though he knows he has no right. He’s been dying to touch you all night, to claim you, to make you his—now some random party guy is stealing your attention, and Taehyun’s fists clench at his sides, jaw working, cock pressing painfully against the fly of his jeans.

He sees Jake’s hand reach out, fingertips brushing your bare arm, and that’s it. Both boys move at the same time, breaking away from the edge of the floor, crossing the room in a beeline for you, barely avoiding bumping into people as they make a beeline for your side.

Jake’s hand lingers, gentle and perfectly polite, his eyes soft as he says, “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? You looked a little overwhelmed back there.”

Before you can answer, Yeonjun’s suddenly at your side, slipping between you and Jake, his body blocking the guy from view. “Hey! There you are, we’ve been looking everywhere,” he says, voice high and fake-bright. Taehyun’s there too, dropping an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tight, his smile all teeth, eyes dark as he sizes up Jake.

Jake blinks, surprised, looking between the two of them and you. “Oh, uh—sorry, I was just showing her where the bathroom was.”

Yeonjun gives a tight laugh. “Yeah? Well, we can take it from here. Thanks, man.”

Taehyun’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his hand sliding down your arm to your waist, fingers digging in, his touch possessive, almost desperate. “Did you need something, Jake?” he asks, voice even, but his eyes are sharp, daring the other boy to say yes.

Jake laughs, awkward now, glancing at you, then back at them. “No, I was just chatting. Didn’t realize she was, uh—” He trails off, suddenly sheepish, stepping back as he realizes what he’s walked into. “Sorry, I’ll let you guys have your night. It was nice meeting you,” he says to you, and then he’s gone, melting into the crowd with an embarrassed smile.

You blink, confused, glancing between your roommates. “What was that?” you ask, voice slurred with alcohol and confusion. “Why’d you both rush over like that?”

Yeonjun just grins, but there’s no humor in it—his jaw tight, his eyes wild. “We were just making sure you’re okay. That guy seemed… persistent.”

Taehyun nods, steering you away from the bathroom and back toward the front door, his hand never leaving your waist. “You never know with these parties. Some guys can’t take a hint.”

You frown, still not getting it, but the way their hands are on you—every touch lingering, every glance heavy with something you can’t name—makes your stomach flip. “He was just being nice,” you protest, but they don’t answer, ushering you toward the coat closet, helping you into your jacket, hands all over you under the guise of helping, brushing down your arms, smoothing your dress, squeezing your shoulders.

They herd you out the front door, Yeonjun’s arm around your waist, Taehyun’s hand at your lower back, steering you down the steps and into the cool night air. The drive home is quiet, tense, the three of you crammed into the backseat of the rideshare, your head spinning from the drinks and the music and the way their bodies are pressed close on either side. You can feel the heat radiating off them, the way their legs press against yours, the way Taehyun’s hand settles on your thigh and stays there, warm and heavy, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You turn to look at Yeonjun, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the window, his thigh pressed tight to yours. “Seriously,” you say, voice small. “What was that? Why did you guys act so weird with Jake? He was just talking.”

Neither of them answers right away. Taehyun squeezes your thigh a little tighter, his jaw working, eyes fixed on the back of the driver’s seat. Yeonjun just sighs, shifting in his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your other knee, fingers splayed wide, possessive.

The silence hangs, heavy and electric, their hands on you, their bodies close, jealousy simmering just below the surface. You’re left squirming between them, dizzy with confusion and desire, your mind racing with questions you can’t ask, your body aching for answers you’re not sure you’re ready to hear.

You stare out the window, city lights blurring past, your heart pounding in your chest, the night spinning out behind you—every look, every touch, every unspoken thing thrumming between you, thicker and heavier than ever before. And as Taehyun’s thumb keeps stroking your thigh, and Yeonjun’s grip tightens on your knee, you realize you’re not the only one desperate for something more.

✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ᜔ ✿ྀི ׅ ᤱ ⸱ ᜔𓂂 ׅ ᤱ ⸱᜔ 𓂂 ׅ ✿ྀི

The three of you stumble inside, the apartment door barely clicking shut before you’re pushing out of your shoes, blinking in the familiar soft light of home. You’re still a little drunk, mind whirling, heat throbbing between your legs. Your dress is riding up again, your thighs sticky, and you can’t stop thinking about the way Taehyun’s hand kept squeezing your leg in the car, or the way Yeonjun kept looking at you like he wanted to fucking eat you. You’re confused, burning up inside, needing answers but not even sure what the questions are anymore.

You tug at the hem of your dress, shuffling into the living room, words tripping out of you before you can stop yourself. “Seriously, guys, what was all that with Jake? Why did you—?” But you don’t get to finish. Yeonjun’s on you first, backing you against the wall, his chest pressed to yours, his hand sliding up under your jaw, tipping your head back. His eyes are wild, blown wide and dark, pupils swallowing up the brown. You barely register the sound of Taehyun locking the door behind you before Yeonjun crashes his mouth onto yours—hungry, messy, desperate.

You gasp, shock freezing you for half a heartbeat, but then Taehyun’s behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his chest hot and heavy against your back, his breath scorching your ear. Yeonjun’s tongue pushes into your mouth, wet and greedy, tasting of vodka and need. He groans, low and filthy, grinding his hips against yours, his cock already hard and thick in his jeans, pressing into your belly through the fabric. You moan into his mouth, caught between the two of them, their bodies crowding you, their hands everywhere at once.

Taehyun’s mouth finds your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. His hands are rough, sliding up your dress, grabbing fistfuls of your ass, squeezing until your legs tremble. “You fucking killed us tonight,” he growls against your skin, voice deep and raw. “Walking around in this little dress like you don’t know what you’re doing. Letting every guy at the party stare at what’s ours.”

Yeonjun pulls back just enough to speak, his lips slick, swollen, voice ruined. “You didn’t see the way they looked at you, did you? Didn’t see Jake undressing you with his fucking eyes?” His hand slides down your body, palming your tit through the fabric, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whine. “You were too busy playing dumb, weren’t you? Fucking clueless.”

You gasp, dazed, heart beating out of your chest. “I—I wasn’t—he was just being nice, I didn’t—”

Taehyun cuts you off with a snarl, his hands sliding up, yanking your dress higher, exposing the soft curve of your stomach, the tops of your thighs. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not nice to anyone but us now, got it? Fuck, look at you—so needy, so desperate to be fucked. Can’t stand seeing you with anyone else.” He ruts against your ass, grinding his cock between your cheeks, moaning when you arch back into him.

Yeonjun pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down, hiking your dress up around your waist, baring your panties—soaked through, sticky and dark. “Look at this. Look how fucking wet you are. All because we touched you in front of everyone, huh? You like being shown off, don’t you? Like being our little slut?”

You whimper, body shaking, but you can’t deny it. The way they’re talking to you, the way their hands are all over you, the filthy words pouring into your ears—your brain is short-circuiting. “Please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for, “please, I need—”

Yeonjun kisses you again, teeth clacking, tongue fucking into your mouth, while Taehyun yanks your panties down your thighs, baring your pussy to the cool air. His fingers slide through your folds, rough and unyielding, circling your clit, pressing in until your knees buckle. “You need what, baby?” Taehyun breathes, voice mocking but so fucking hot. “Need to be fucked, right here, against the wall? Want us to ruin you?”

You nod frantically, hips rolling, chasing every scrap of pleasure they give you. Yeonjun’s grip on your wrists tightens, holding you helpless, his mouth never leaving yours, breath mixing, teeth biting your lips until you whine.

Taehyun kneels behind you, face pressed to your ass, tongue licking a fat, slow stripe up your pussy. You cry out, squirming, but Yeonjun just laughs, pinning you harder, his cock grinding into your stomach, leaking precum into his jeans. Taehyun eats you like a man starved, tongue fucking into you, lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and moaning, hands bruising your thighs as he holds you open. The wet sounds are obscene, spit and slick and desperate groans, his nose bumping your ass as he devours you.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Taehyun groans, tongue flicking fast over your clit, making your hips buck. “Could eat this pussy all night. So wet for us, fuck.”

Yeonjun lets go of your wrists, both hands coming down to yank your tits free of the dress, palming them roughly, squeezing, thumbs flicking over your nipples until you’re whining. He bites your jaw, your ear, voice harsh and filthy. “You want everyone to see you like this? Want them to know how much you love being used?”

You’re a mess—moaning, babbling, begging for more, your body on fire. Taehyun stands, mouth shiny with your slick, eyes blown black, grinning as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bed. Now.”

They drag you to Taehyun’s room, your dress bunched up, panties tangled around your ankles, tits out and bouncing with every step. The door barely clicks shut before they’re on you again, Taehyun pushing you onto the bed, Yeonjun stripping off his shirt, jeans, boxers, cock springing free—thick, flushed, leaking. He strokes himself, eyes locked on you, tongue dragging over his lower lip.

Taehyun rips your dress the rest of the way off, tossing it aside, kneeling between your thighs, spreading you wide. “Look at you,” he breathes, voice reverent and cruel. “So fucking pretty. So fucking slutty. You want us to fuck you, baby? Want to feel both of us?”

You nod, biting your lip, shivering with need. “Please, please, I need it—need you so bad, I can’t—”

Yeonjun climbs onto the bed, caging you in, his cock smearing precum across your stomach as he leans down, kissing you deep, messy, tongue fucking into your mouth. Taehyun lines himself up, cock thick and hot against your dripping entrance, pushing in slow, relentless, stretching you wide until you’re crying out, nails digging into Yeonjun’s shoulders.

“Shit, she’s so fucking tight,” Taehyun groans, hips jerking as he bottoms out, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider. “So fucking good. You feel that, princess? Feel how hard you make me?”

Yeonjun kisses your tears away, cock pressed to your lips. “Open up,” he commands, voice gravel and hunger. “Let me fuck that pretty mouth. Need you to choke on me, baby. Need to see you drool.”

You open wide, tongue lolling, eyes rolling back as he slides his cock past your lips, down your throat, one hand tangled in your hair, the other stroking your cheek. He starts slow, but quickly loses control, thrusting into your mouth, spit and precum dripping down your chin. “Fuck, fuck, you’re perfect,” he pants, hips snapping, voice breaking. “Such a good girl, taking it so deep. Bet you’d let anyone use you, wouldn’t you? But you’re ours. Ours to fuck, ours to ruin.”

Taehyun’s fucking you hard, hips slamming into your ass, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room, your wetness loud and slick. He slaps your thigh, grabs your belly, leans over to bite your shoulder, marking you up. “Fucking take it, baby,” he snarls. “Take it all. Look how cockdrunk you are already. Can’t get enough, can you?”

You moan around Yeonjun’s cock, tears spilling down your cheeks, spit and drool everywhere, eyes wild and desperate. You’re choking, spluttering, but loving every second, every filthy word, every rough thrust. You’ve never felt so wanted, so full, so fucking alive.

Yeonjun pulls out, stroking his cock over your face, smearing precum across your lips. “You look so fucking good like this. Ruined. Just for us.” He leans down, kissing you hard, licking the spit off your chin, biting your bottom lip until you whine.

Taehyun flips you over, ass in the air, face pressed to the mattress. He slides back in, deeper this time, pounding you so hard the bed shakes, your tits bouncing with every thrust. Yeonjun kneels in front of you, sliding his cock between your tits, fucking your cleavage, moaning as he watches your lips part, tongue flicking out to catch the tip every time he thrusts forward.

“You like this, huh?” Yeonjun pants, voice filthy. “Like being used? Like being our little fucktoy? Look at you—so eager, so messy. Bet Jake would shit himself if he saw you now.”

Taehyun grunts, slapping your ass, grabbing a fistful of hair, yanking your head back so he can watch your face. “You’re never looking at another guy again. Not after tonight. You’re ours. Say it.”

You sob, body shaking, completely overwhelmed. “Yours. I’m yours. Please, please don’t stop—”

They both laugh, dark and cruel, but there’s so much love in it, too. “Good girl,” Yeonjun breathes, fucking your tits harder, hips stuttering. “So fucking good for us. So perfect.”

Taehyun’s thrusts go ragged, his voice breaking. “Gonna cum in this tight fucking pussy, baby. Gonna fill you up, make sure everyone knows you’re taken. You want that? Want us to breed you?”

You nod, mindless, begging for it. “Yes, please, want it, need it—”

Yeonjun grabs your face, kisses you messy, then pulls back, jerking his cock over your mouth, moaning as he cums—hot and thick, painting your tongue, your lips, your chin. Taehyun follows, slamming into you one last time, spilling deep inside, filling you so full you can feel it dripping down your thighs.

You collapse, boneless, ruined, their hands gentle now as they stroke your skin, kiss your cheeks, praise you, mock you, love you all at once.

“You’re ours now,” Taehyun whispers, wrapping you in his arms, cock still twitching inside you. “Only ours.”

Yeonjun pulls you into his lap, kissing your forehead, his hands still roaming, greedy and soft. “No more parties without us. No more flirting with other guys. You belong to us, got it?”

You nod, dazed and fucked-out, their cum sticky on your skin, your body aching, your heart finally, finally full.

And in the quiet after, all three of you tangled together, you realize you’ve never been so happy to be ruined.