CelestialIris💗 @irislovesnct - Tumblr Blog

Into It? || 18+

Synopsis: It doesn't hurt to fuck the hot frat boys you were tutoring right? Especially when they fulfilled all your horniest fantasies?

Pairings: Jake x fem!reader x Euijoo, includes members of Enhypen and &team and my glorious goddess Yujin of Ive

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, actual porn, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you dumbfuck), threesome (2 scenes), double penetration, anal sex, dumbification, big dick ej and jake, oral (f and m recieiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, cock riding, dom ej and jake, vibrator use, ass slapping because duh, mayybee masochist ej and jake, masturbation (f), praise and degradation, reader gets called a cocksucker (lovingly), horrible use of frat terms, they're all freaky and horny dont ask me shit

A/N: the people of minhosimthings queendom, your queen has finally gone utterly mad. And with the madness, she's managed to craft the horniest, filthiest shit she's ever written because oh of COURSE her biases deserve the best treatment right? Jokes apart I lost so many braincells trying to think of scenarios so please don't get bored by everything ik im shit at writing threesomes. Also succesfully beat the 1000 block restriction by combining paragraphs yay. As always, enjoy, my darlings!

Word Count: 24.8k (get your pussies wet and ready)

Everyone on campus knew them. Everyone on campus loved them.

And you were about to suffer for the next two months.

How fun.

You had no idea how your professor even knew you. You were always in the second row seat in the corner, tucked away, fixed on your laptop. You procrastinated, studied, got the grades and went the fuck home, never speaking even once in class. Not when you dropped your pencil about 5000 metres away from you (right in front of your seat-partner) and they didn't notice so you chose to stay quiet for the rest of the class and went home and googled all the notes. Desperate times, desperate measures.

And then came your professor calling you to her office, telling you how perfect you’d be to tutor her weakest students for the upcoming final exam! Yipee!

Euijoo and Jaeyun. How could one even begin to describe Euijoo and Jaeyun?

They were such paradoxes, two bodies of complete irony, the sun and moon in one. They were part of the biggest and most famous frat on campus, &-En—the one known for epic parties, charity fundraisers that broke records and a roster of members who looked like they’d stepped out of a casting call for ‘University: The Musical’.

Both of them were campus royalty, the faces on every frat party flyer, every sports event poster, every stupid candid photograph people uploaded with captions about ‘college memories <3’. In summary, they were impossible to miss.

And ridiculously beautiful too.

Jaeyun with his soft black hair that always somehow fell perfectly over his forehead no matter how recklessly he moved, pretty in a quiet way that snuck up on you unexpectedly. He smiled at everyone, held doors open, remembered names; people talked about how he once carried an intoxicated freshman girl all the way back to her dorm because none of her friends could manage it properly.

Euijoo, his dyed hair a vibrant slash of autumn against the grey campus concrete, sitting on benches, gently coaxing skittish campus cats to eat from his hand. He had the kind of face people wrote songs about after making prolonged eye contact once. You’d once seen him climb a damn tree to grab an apple for some giggly group of girls who ran their manicured claws along his chest.

But despite the frat parties and loud crowds and expensive jackets and stupidly attractive friends, neither of them had ever seemed cruel. Frat-boyish? Absolutely. They roughhoused with their friends on campus lawns, walked around in sweats and sleeveless shirts like they were born for magazine covers, and showed up to lectures smelling faintly of expensive cologne and sleep deprivation.

But they were gentle, kind. You noticed things. The way Jaeyun always bowed politely to professors, the way Euijoo slowed his pace whenever someone walked beside him, the way they listened when people spoke.

Soft boys hidden beneath loud lives.

So when Professor Choi had asked you to stay behind after class, you genuinely thought you were being accused of plagiarism or tax fraud or something equally horrifying. Instead, she folded her hands together over her desk and smiled.

“I have two students who desperately need help before finals,” she said. “And I think you’d be perfect for tutoring them.” You had opened your mouth to reject the offer immediately—because absolutely not—before she continued.

“Euijoo and Jaeyun.”

“…What?”

Professor Choi laughed softly at your expression. “They’re struggling badly in biology.”

“That can’t be true,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. You had never, not once, spoken a word to either of them. Which was exactly why this whole situation was so bad. Because now you had to speak to them. Repeatedly.

“For two months?” you repeated weakly.

“Just until finals.” Professor Choi nodded sympathetically. “They’re both nice boys, it would be a pity if they failed.”

Yeah it would be a pity if you just jumped off a building right now.

You stared at her. She smiled brighter, like this was a gift. “They specifically asked for someone academically reliable, someone focused.” Which was apparently professor-code for antisocial. You sighed into your hands while she slid a paper toward you containing their schedules. “Please try your best with them,” she said gently. “They’re good boys.”

Good boys.

Right.

That was how you ended up back in your tiny one-person dorm later that night, sitting cross-legged in front of your mirror with your skincare half-done and biology notes scattered across your bed. The dorm was only yours because of your grades—a tiny mercy granted by scholarship credits and endless academic validation. It was small but quiet, and right then, it felt painfully too quiet. It was the kind of silence that amplified the impending doom.

You stared at your reflection. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you were going to sit across from Euijoo and Jaeyun for two entire hours pretending you were capable of functioning like a normal human being. You imagined awkward silences, you imagined humiliating yourself instantly, you imagined them leaning over your shoulder to ask a question and your brain physically short-circuiting.

Maybe they’d hate tutoring, maybe they wouldn’t show up, maybe they’d stare at you waiting for conversation while you slowly dissolved into the floor. Your stomach twisted as the harrowing reality closed in around you—tomorrow you were going to translate the Krebs cycle and mitochondrial DNA to Jaeyun, with his pretty, sharp eyes, and Euijoo, with his pretty, flame-kissed hair. Tomorrow, your beautifully silent, anonymous world was going to crack wide open. You dropped backward onto your mattress with a groan, one arm covering your face.

There were going to be the longest months of your life.

_____________

“Tutoring.”

“For the fifteenth fucking time—” Euijoo sighed, massaging his temple, “—yes. Tutoring. Biology. Final exam. Two months. Do you need me to draw a diagram?”

Nicholas stared at him like he’d just told him he was someone from an alien planet who’d travelled to earth to study humans. Beside him, Sunghoon chomped away at his jar of cheese balls.

“Why are you so interested anyway?” Jaeyun asked, not looking away from his game on the tv, “You usually don’t give a shit about either of us.” “Yes I do.” Nicholas said in a defensive tone, “I give a shit about you two more than anyone else. Right Hoon?” “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

Nicholas threw a cushion at his head. The frat house was unusually calm for once. Music still hummed faintly somewhere upstairs, and people moved through the halls every few minutes, but the main lounge had settled into the lazy atmosphere that only existed after midnight.

Jaeyun sat cross-legged on the carpet in grey sweats and a black hoodie, controller in hand. Euijoo occupied the far end of the couch, long legs spread comfortably, hair messy from showering. Both of them looked unfairly good for someone discussing biology tutoring at one in the morning. Nicholas, meanwhile, looked personally victimized.

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” he muttered. “You two failing biology feels very incorrect. You’re the only ones here who actually study.”

“Ew studying.” Sunghoon said, his silver hair gleaming in the soft light.

“We’re not failing,” Jaeyun defended.

“You got a thirty-two.”

Jaeyun paused. “…Okay but the class average was bad too.”

“The average was seventy-one.”

Sunghoon snorted into his cheese balls. Before Jaeyun could throw something at him, the front door opened, letting in a burst of cool night air and two more of their brothers.

“Heard the death sentence was finalized,” Fuma said, hanging his jacket by the door.

“It’s not a death sentence,” Jaeyun muttered, his car on screen crashing into a wall. He tossed the controller aside in defeat.

Jungwon blinked. “Still talking about tutoring?”

“Unfortunately,” Euijoo muttered.

“Oh, you guys got lucky.” Fuma dropped onto the armchair with a grin.

Jaeyun looked over. “How?”

Jungwon pointed lazily toward them. “I talked to Professor Choi earlier this week.”

Euijoo frowned, the reddish-orange of his hair seeming to burn a little brighter under his suspicion. “Why were you talking to Professor Choi?”

“She likes me.”

“You literally helped her carry boxes one time.”

“And now we’re connected spiritually,” Jungwon said seriously.

Sunghoon made a thoughtful noise. “That’s beautiful.”

“Anyway,” Jungwon continued, “I told her to get you idiots the best tutor possible before finals destroyed your GPAs.”

Nicholas gasped softly. “You care.”

“I care about the frat reputation,” Jungwon corrected instantly. “If two of our members fail biology, people will think we’re stupid.”

“We are stupid,” Sunghoon said.

“That’s not the point.”

Fuma leaned back comfortably. “I know who your tutor is, actually.”

Euijoo lifted his head slightly. “You do?”

“Top of the class,” Fuma said simply. “Like ridiculously top of the class.”

“Great.” Jaeyun groaned immediately. “So they’re gonna hate us.”

“Nah.” Fuma said. “She’s just quiet.”

Silence. Actual, physical silence. It was like the entire world had just collapsed, the way all of them stared at Fuma.

“…She?” Nicholas repeated slowly.

“It’s a she?” Sunghoon sat upright so fast the jar of cheese balls nearly flew off his stomach.

Fuma blinked at them. “Yes?” The room exploded.

“No one said it was a girl!” Nicholas yelled.

“Why would we assume that?!” Jaeyun shouted back.

“Because tutors are always men named Daniel!” Sunghoon argued passionately.

Euijoo rubbed his face tiredly while Nicholas looked personally betrayed. “You let me picture some forty-year-old economics major this entire time.”

“She’s not even an economics major,” Fuma said.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Wait.” Jaeyun stared at Fuma suspiciously now. “You know her personally?”

“Not really,” Fuma admitted. “We’ve talked a few times.”

Nicholas gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. Fuma has female acquaintances.”

“Please grow up.”

“Wait. Is she at least normal?” Jaeyun asked, head tilted like a curious pup.

Fuma stared at him. “You’re asking if someone’s normal while Nicholas is currently wearing sunglasses indoors.”

Nicholas pointed at him. “Fashion never sleeps.”

Sunghoon grabbed another handful of cheese balls. “Important question though.”

Euijoo already looked tired. “What.”

“Is she pretty?”

Jaeyun groaned loudly. “Why does that matter?”

“Because,” Nicholas said as though explaining basic mathematics to children, “if I’m being forced into academic rehabilitation, I at least deserve visual motivation.”

“You’re not even being tutored,” Euijoo said.

“I’m emotionally involved.”

Fuma shrugged. “I mean…yeah.”

Immediately, Nicholas sat upright. “Yeah?” he repeated eagerly.

Fuma looked amused now. “Pretty. In a scary smart way.”

Jaeyun sighed deeply and leaned back against the couch behind him. Sunghoon winced, “Oh you guys are finished.”

“Fantastic.” Euijoo groaned into his hands.

“Don’t act miserable,” Jungwon said. “You’re the ones who ignored every warning sign before exams.”

“We were busy,” Jaeyun argued weakly.

“With what?” Sunghoon asked. Jaeyun opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

Nicholas pointed at Euijoo accusingly. “You better not flirt your way out of this.”

Euijoo looked offended. “I don’t do that.” All four of them stared at him. Jaeyun burst out laughing first.

“Bro,” Sunghoon said through laughter, “you once got an extension because Professor Lee said you looked exhausted.”

“I was exhausted.”

“You smiled at her once and she extended the deadline for the whole class,” Nicholas corrected.

Fuma, meanwhile, looked entertained. “Honestly? I can’t picture her tolerating either of you.”

“Great,” Jaeyun muttered. “Love that for us.”

“She’s really quiet,” Fuma continued. “But nice.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Pretty and quiet.”

“Yes, Nicholas,” Jungwon sighed. “Women exist.”

“Do you think she’s mean pretty or cute pretty?” Sunghoon asked seriously.

“Can you freaks focus?” Jaeyun said.

“No, wait,” Nicholas interrupted. “This matters.”

“It absolutely does not.”

“It does,” Sunghoon insisted. “There’s a psychological difference.”

A moment later, both of their phones buzzed at the exact same time. Nicholas lunged forward instantly like a starving animal detecting food.

“Ohoho.”

Jaeyun narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

Too late, Nicholas had already snatched Jaeyun’s phone from beside him while Sunghoon practically folded himself over the couch trying to read Euijoo’s screen upside down. Nicholas read aloud in the most robotic voice imaginable:

“Hello. This is regarding tomorrow’s biology tutoring session.”

Sunghoon lost it immediately, nearly choking on a cheese ball. “Oh my god,” he wheezed. “That’s terrifyingly formal.”

Nicholas continued dramatically. “Would 4:30 PM at the science library be suitable for both of you? Please let me know if adjustments are needed. Thank you.”

The room dissolved into laughter. Jaeyun dragged a hand down his face. “Why does it sound like an email from the government?”

Euijoo, despite himself, smiled a little. “It’s polite.”

Nicholas clutched his chest. “‘Please let me know if adjustments are needed.’ Euijoo, she thinks you pay taxes.”

Sunghoon wiped tears from his eyes. “You’re gonna show up tomorrow and get assigned homework and a retirement plan.”

Jaeyun grabbed his phone back with an exhausted sigh. “She already hates us.” He decided.

“I don’t think she hates you,” Fuma said.

“She texts like she’s the dean.” Nicholas argued. The phone buzzed again suddenly and Nicholas immediately lunged for it like a feral animal. “Oh my god there’s more.”

Euijoo held the phone out of reach effortlessly. “Get away from me.”

Jaeyun checked his own screen first and snorted. A follow-up message.

“Also, please bring any previous test papers if possible so I can identify which topics need the most attention.”

The room went silent again. Then Nicholas whispered, horrified, “She’s so organized what the fuck.”

Sunghoon looked genuinely afraid now. “You guys are meeting a real academic weapon tomorrow.”

Jaeyun dropped backward onto the carpet dramatically. “I’m calling in sick.”

“You can’t call in sick to tutoring,” Jungwon said.

“Watch me.”

Fuma laughed quietly while Euijoo typed out a reply. “4:30 works. We’ll be there. Thanks.” Short and simple. But he reread it twice before sending anyway. Nicholas noticed immediately.

“Oh?” he said slowly. “Why are you typing so carefully?”

Sunghoon clutched Nicholas’s arm with faux shock. “He wants the tutor to think he’s literate.”

Jaeyun pointed accusingly at Fuma from the floor. “This is your fault for telling them she’s pretty.”

“I said she seemed nice!”

“Same thing,” Nicholas argued.

Euijoo ignored them completely, tossing his phone beside him before standing. “I’m sleeping.”

“Same.” Jaeyun agreed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna pass biology. Which is why we,” he said, emphasizing the word as he looked pointedly at Nicholas and Sunghoon, “are going to bed at a reasonable hour so we can actually focus tomorrow.” This announcement was met with exaggerated gasps and mock applause.

“The &-En pillars, turning in before midnight? For studying?” Nicholas clutched his heart. “The world is ending.”

Jungwon made a dramatic gagging noise “We’re witnessing history here.”

Sunghoon pointed at them solemnly with a cheese ball between his fingers. “Good luck, scholars.”

“Can’t wait to hear all about your future A pluses tomorrow.” Nicholas crowed.

Euijoo flipped him off lazily as he headed toward the stairs, but despite the chaos behind him, his mind lingered strangely on tomorrow. Jaeyun was on the same thing, the stiff, painfully formal text not leaving his mind. It was like someone was trying very hard not to say the wrong thing and something about it felt strangely endearing.

Till tomorrow it was.

__________

You were about to combust. You were about to die.

It was 4:31. One minute late, yeah of course they hated you. Why wouldn't they? You were the one who sent that grandma ass text to them last night so now they obviously thought you were some stuck up nerd who ate data reports for breakfast.

‘Would 4:30 PM at the science library study hall be suitable for both of you?’ Suitable for both of you—you sounded like someone’s divorced aunt scheduling a dentist appointment. Cool, this was so cool.

You sat tucked into the far corner of the science library, half-hidden behind a stack of biology textbooks you’d arranged in front of you like defensive barricades.You’d arrived twenty minutes early out of sheer panic and now you were spiraling. Your outfit situation certainly wasn’t exactly helping either.

Every decent shirt you owned had apparently decided to unionize overnight and sit in the washing machine damp and unusable, leaving you with exactly one option: a white button-up that dipped lower at the collar than you normally liked. One wrong move and you’d be in jail for flashing everybody. Which meant you’d spent the entire walk to the library awkwardly tugging at it every thirty seconds like a Victorian woman protecting her honour.

Your thumb mindlessly scrolled through videos as you waited, desperate distraction after desperate distraction until you landed on some stupid clip of a raccoon stealing cat food while dramatic orchestra music played in the background. The raccoon knocked over the bowl and you snorted before you could stop yourself.

And immediately after, the universe decided it hated you as a laugh sounded behind you—warm and surprised and very close.

“Oh my god,” a voice said through barely contained laughter. “Is that a raccoon edit?”

Your soul left your body and you nearly launched your phone across the library. You whipped around so fast you nearly elbowed your water bottle off the table.

And there they were.

Tall—that was your first coherent thought—just offensively tall.

Jaeyun stood slightly behind Euijoo, black hair falling messily over his forehead, soft eyes crinkled from laughing. Even in something so simple—a navy hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and loose grey sweatpants—he looked so majestic, a sort of Adonis.

And Euijoo—jesus fucking christ. The hair was somehow even worse in person, softer-looking under the library lights, messy in a way that looked accidental and intentional all at once. He wore a black zip-up over a white shirt, rings glinting faintly as he adjusted the strap of his bag.

You were going to die here.

“I—” you stammered instantly, locking your phone screen so fast it nearly slipped from your hand. “It just came up on my feed, I wasn’t—”

Jaeyun lost it. “No, no,” he said quickly, holding his hands up. “I’m not judging you. The music made it ten times funnier.”

“It just autoplayed,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so aggressively you almost dropped it. “I wasn’t searching for raccoon content specifically.” There was a pause and Euijoo’s mouth twitched slightly.

“Specifically?” he repeated quietly. Heat rushed into your face so violently you considered throwing yourself through the nearest library window.

You closed your eyes for one brief moment. “Okay,” you thought to yourself. “This is horrible.”

“You text exactly how I imagined.” Jaeyun was visibly delighted now. “The ‘please let me know if adjustments are needed’ almost made me stand up straighter.”

Euijoo nodded beside him. “Very professional.”

“I don’t talk like that normally,” you defended instantly.

Jaeyun raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you lied. Of course your antisocial dumbass always talked like that.

Euijoo finally sat down across from you, movements easy and relaxed while you sat there like a frightened woodland creature. “I’m Euijoo,” he said gently.

You nodded too fast. “I know.” Silence, your eyes widened. “I mean—not like weird know,” you corrected immediately. “Not stalker-ish. Just like campus-knowledge know. Like everybody knows—not everybody, probably, statistically speaking that wouldn’t even make sense—”

Yeah the universe should have just killed you already.

Euijoo looked down for a second, hiding a smile. Jaeyun had physically bent forward laughing now. And somehow, impossibly, the panic in your chest loosened a little.

“I’m Jaeyun,” he offered kindly, like you weren’t actively self-destructing in front of them.

You nodded again. “I know that too.” Jaeyun stared at you. You stared back in horror. “Jesus Christ,” you mumbled, covering your face with one hand. “Can I restart this entire interaction?”

“No,” Jaeyun said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Euijoo leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you fumble with an expression that was far too entertained for someone who was supposed to be struggling biology students.

“This is the best first meeting I’ve ever had.” He added softly.

You peeked through your fingers suspiciously. “You’re making fun of me.”

“A little,” Jaeyun admitted.

“But affectionately,” Euijoo said.

Oh.

Oh ok where was your gun.

You dropped your hand back onto the table and immediately knocked your pen onto the floor. The three of you watched it roll away in silence. You stared at it. Then stared ahead instead.

“I’m leaving it there,” you decided quietly.

Jaeyun laughed so hard he had to lean back in his chair. Euijoo shook his head, smiling properly now before leaning down to pick the pen up for you. Your heart nearly stopped from embarrassment when his fingers brushed yours lightly handing it back.

“Thank you,” you said far too formally.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with equal seriousness, “Now should we start before any more accidents happen?” “Yep.” Jaeyun replied enthusiastically, pulling out a genuinely massive folder from his bag, “You wanted all our tests right?” Universe, where was the damn gun.

The session itself started chaotically. Mostly because Jaeyun and Euijoo apparently shared one singular brain cell when placed together. At one point, Jaeyun confidently identified the mitochondria as “the thing that does vibes.” Euijoo had immediately buried his face in his hands while you stared at them in genuine disbelief.

“It’s the powerhouse of the cell,” you said weakly.

“Right,” Jaeyun nodded seriously. “That’s what I meant. Vibes.”

And somehow—somehow—it got easier after that. The tightness in your shoulders slowly disappeared the longer the session went on. The awkwardness never fully vanished—you still nearly choked on your water when Euijoo leaned closer to look at your notes once—but it became manageable.

Jaeyun asked questions constantly, even if half of them sounded ridiculous at first. “So wait,” he’d said at one point, frowning at his worksheet, “if enzymes speed reactions up, why don’t they just keep going forever?” And instead of pretending to understand when he didn’t, he genuinely waited for your explanation, brows furrowed in concentration.

Euijoo was quieter. He absorbed things carefully, eyes flicking between your diagrams and textbook while he listened. Sometimes he’d go silent for a full minute before suddenly asking something terrifyingly specific that forced you to rethink how you explained the concept. You liked that a lot more than you expected.

And they were nice. God, they were annoyingly nice. Jaeyun apologized every single time he interrupted you, even accidentally. Euijoo kept sliding your highlighters back toward you whenever they rolled too far across the table because apparently your motor skills deteriorated under stress.

At one point, while you were explaining cellular respiration, you’d gotten too into it and started gesturing aggressively with your pen.

Jaeyun blinked at you. “You really like biology.”

You froze mid-sentence. “I mean,” you said awkwardly, “academically.”

Jaeyun laughed softly. “No, I mean it’s cool.”

Now why did your chest suddenly feel so tight? Probably because nobody usually called your interests cool.

Then, near the end of the session, something genuinely shocking happened. Jaeyun got a question right. Not partially right. Actually right. You’d stared at his paper for a full three seconds before looking up slowly.

“See?” Jaeyun immediately pointed at the answer triumphantly. “Academic weapon.”

Euijoo leaned over to look and blinked. “Wait, you actually got that?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because I know you.”

Jaeyun looked offended while you laughed before you could stop yourself. Both of them looked up immediately. And for one horrifying second, you realized that was probably the first time you’d laughed properly around them for the past three hours.

Jaeyun grinned instantly like he’d won something.“You’re way less scary when you laugh.”

“I was scary?”

“You text like my mother.” Jaeyun reminded you.

Euijoo nodded solemnly beside him. “Very intimidating.”

.By the time the session ended, your notes were scattered everywhere, Jaeyun had somehow eaten two protein bars during a lesson on DNA replication, and Euijoo had finally understood something he’d been stuck on for weeks.

And weirdly—you’d had fun.

__________

Once you got back home, a realization hit you that made you genuinely sit down and think about life for a second.

That tutoring session had been….actually great?

You were back in the sanctuary of your dorm, the door locked firmly against the world. You’d dumped your bag, kicked off your shoes and were about to collapse into your usual post-social-interaction coma when it hit you, so foreign and unexpected that it made you genuinely stop and think about life for a second.

They hadn’t laughed at you meanly even once. Okay, they laughed at you constantly, but not cruelly—a particularly mind boggling difference. And they’d listened to you too, to your very quiet voice which was akin to the flap of a butterfly’s wing. Jaeyun had looked genuinely excited when he finally understood something. Euijoo had quietly thanked you after you re-explained transcription for the third time without sounding annoyed. Nobody had treated you like some awkward invisible thing sitting in the corner.

You sat down on the edge of your bed in complete silence, staring at your wall like you’d just uncovered a government conspiracy. Then you fell backward onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling. You’d expected arrogance, disinterest—frat boys who’d spend two hours scrolling through their phones while you suffered quietly beside them.

Instead they’d just been…..two guys who were genuinely disgusting at biology and genuinely grateful for the help. It was cool. It was, dare you think it, great. The feeling that settled in your chest was weird—a low, warm hum of something like accomplishment, mixed with a strange, lingering awareness of Jaeyun’s eager eyes and the careful way Euijoo had handed you your pen. It was nice, suspiciously so and now you felt strange; like maybe these months weren't going to destroy you after all.

Shaking your head slightly to dispel the peculiar buzz, you decided the best course of action was a hard reset. A return to your most reliable, private comfort.

The cursor hovered over the familiar title. You’d bookmarked this one last week, a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers fic in your favourite fantasy fandom, renowned in the comments for its particularly… thorough eighth chapter.

The tags were a delicious wall of text, you immediately spotted your favourites: size kink, bondage, degradation, a mating press and a full fucking nelson? Oh weren’t you in for a treat tonight. You skimmed them, a ritual as comforting as the first sip of tea. Your eyes caught on something and a faint, unrelated echo of Jaeyun’s voice—“For real? Oh, hell yeah!”—flitted through your mind before you firmly pushed it away. This was your time, your space.

You clicked open. The prose was immersive, pulling you instantly into a torch-lit chamber where the two protagonists, after chapters of biting dialogue and fraught glances, finally faced the precipice of their desire. The author was a master of the slow reveal, of the aching detail—the hesitant brush of a calloused knuckle against a jawline, the hitched breath that was more telling than any confession.

You read curled up on your bed, the dim glow of your laptop the only light. As the characters’ verbal sparring dissolved into breathless, urgent whispers, your own breathing began to subtly sync with the rhythm on the screen. A familiar, low thrum of heat started in your belly, a pleasant counterpoint to the weird buzz still lingering from the afternoon.

One hand scrolled slowly, absorbing every beautifully crafted sentence. The other drifted down, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear. Your touch was light at first, exploratory, mirroring the tentative explorations described in the text.

The hero’s voice in your head, low and rough with praise—“You’re doing so well, just like that…”—coalesced with the memory of a different kind of approval, of two sets of eyes fixed on you with grateful focus.

You pushed the thought away, focusing on the fiction, on the safe, controlled fantasy. Your fingers moved with more purpose, circling in the slow, practised rhythm that you knew worked. Your back arched slightly off the mattress as a particularly vivid line of description—a bite against a collarbone, a whispered command—sent a sharp jolt through you.

The sensations built, a steady crescendo. The warm hum in your chest from earlier seemed to migrate, to fuse with the physical heat coiling tighter and tighter low in your body. The images from the story—tangled limbs, sweat-slicked skin, desperate pleas—flashed behind your closed eyelids.

For a fleeting second, the fantasy blurred at the edges; the careful hands in the story weren’t entirely fictional, they were unexpectedly gentle, handing you a pen, and the voice murmuring praise was eager, relieved, saying you got one.

It was that confusing, illicit overlap—the real, strange warmth of the day colliding with the reliable, fabricated heat of the story—that finally tipped you over the edge. Your breath caught, a soft, stifled sound in the quiet room as the tension shattered into waves of release, leaving you trembling and spent against your pillows.

For a long moment, you just lay there in the aftermath, the blue light of the laptop screen casting everything in a cool, unreal glow. The peculiar buzz was gone, dissolved into a heavy, physical lassitude. The weird feeling of accomplishment was still there, but it was quieter now.

You closed the browser tab with a soft click, the finality of the sound sealing the chapter on both the story and the day. The months stretched ahead, but the dread was now just shadows, and for now, the shadows felt manageable. You suddenly couldn't wait for the next session two days later.

Meanwhile on the other side of the campus—

“So…”

“So.”

“She’s hot.”

“Oh my god she’s so damn hot.”

Jaeyun was lying on his back on his bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the constellation of glow-in-the-dark stars stuck haphazardly to his ceiling. Euijoo was perched on the edge of his own meticulously made bed, ostensibly examining a highlighter as if its chemical composition was the most fascinating thing in the world.

They were supposed to be reviewing the notes you’d helped them make. The pages were open on Jaeyun’s desk and Euijoo’s bed, covered in highlighted terms and doodles on the margins. Neither was looking at them.

Jaeyun turned his head on the pillow, his dark eyes finding Euijoo’s profile in the dim lamplight, whose shoulders slumped as if released from a wire. He dropped the highlighter.

“What the fuck are we even thinking about?” He breathed, his words fervent.

“How we find our tutor hot.” Jaeyun deadpanned.

It was a floodgate opening. The careful focus, the respectful masks they’d worn for two hours in the library fell away completely, revealing the sheer, dizzying impact you’d had on them. Another silence followed, mostly because neither of them knew where to even begin. Because it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything all at once. Their minds (hive mentality perhaps) were fixated on the ravishing beauty of you. And the shirt.

Oh that damn shirt.

Cut so dangerously, both of them could see everything when you leaned forward, unaware of your own skin because you were so engrossed in biology. But neither of them was willing to admit how much heat had flushed between their legs at the sight of your cleavage.

Jaeyun groaned into the mattress dramatically. “The glasses thing almost killed me.”

Euijoo looked over immediately. “Right?”

“Like why was she pushing them back up every thirty seconds?” Jaeyun sat up halfway, scandalized. “How am I supposed to focus on mitochondria during that?”

“The way she explains things,” Jaeyun continued, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling, seeing not stars but the intense, thoughtful furrow of your brow. “It’s like…..her voice just cuts through all the noise in my head about this stupid class. Kinda hot.”

“I know,” Euijoo agreed, running a hand through his hair, messing it. “And she has this…this tiny little frown she does.” He breathed, “I think I almost lost it.”

“And her hands,” Jaeyun said, almost to himself, “I’m going to be so weird about her hands.”

“Go ahead.” Euijoo laughed, then sighed, “Wow. We’re kind of the worst people to ever exist right now.”

“We are.” Jaeyun conceded, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Man what the hell would she think of us right now? She’s just so…” “Hot.” Euijoo finished for him, the word definitive. “Incredibly hot.”

“I was going to say innocent but yeah that too.” Jaeyun hummed.

Euijoo laughed under his breath. You did look so….soft. Warm eyes, nervous hands, pretty lips constantly pressing together after you spoke like you were mentally reviewing every sentence for errors. Euijoo leaned back in his chair smiling helplessly now while Jaeyun buried his face into a pillow.

“She looked so excited when we understood something,” Euijoo murmured.

“She looked at me like I’d solved world hunger when I got that answer right.”

“To be fair,” Euijoo said, “I was also shocked.” Jaeyun threw a pillow at him.

“But seriously,” Jaeyun continued, “she’s weirdly easy to be around.”

That was the strangest part. Usually people acted different around them. Too eager, too shy, too damn performative. But you were so fucking awkward that it circled back around to honesty. Every expression showed on your face immediately, every embarrassed thought practically announced itself out loud. And the funniest thing? You clearly had no idea how pretty you were.

Euijoo remembered the exact moment you laughed properly for the first time. How you’d immediately looked startled afterward, like the sound escaped accidentally. Jaeyun remembered the way you frowned at your notes while concentrating, lips moving silently as you reread things. Both of them remembered how softly you’d thanked Euijoo for picking your pen up.

Jaeyun turned his head toward Euijoo suddenly. “She definitely thinks we’re cooler than we are.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Jaeyun sighed dramatically. “This is bad.”

Euijoo raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because now I actually wanna go to tutoring.” A beat passed.

Then Euijoo admitted quietly, “…Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this one was charged, buzzing with shared, stunned realization. Jaeyun sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We can’t be weird about this,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes still bright. “We cannot fuck this up by being…you know. Us. Around girls.”

“What are you talking about? We’re amazing around girls.”

Jaeyun stared at him. Then burst out laughing. “No, we’re not.”

“Yes we are!”

“Euijoo, you accidentally flirt with baristas.”

“Yeah and you once thanked a girl for handing you a receipt and she turned red.”

“That sounds like her issue.”

“Exactly this.” Euijoo pointed accusingly at him. “You can’t do this cool boy shit with her.”

“You can’t do it with her either then!” Jaeyun said.

Euijoo leaned back in his chair looking deeply unbothered. “I’m naturally charming.”

“You’re naturally annoying.” Jaeyun ran a hand through his hair before dramatically breathing out and putting on the face of someone who hadn’t devoured two tubs of (Jungwon’s) ice cream an hour ago. “Okay. New rule.”

Euijoo already looked tired. “Why are you like this?”

“We act normal.” “We do act normal.”

“No flirting.”

Euijoo barked out a laugh. “You say that like we planned to flirt with her.”

“You smiled at her like three times.” “That’s literally normal human activity, Jaeyun.”

“You picked her pen up.” “It rolled near me, you freak?”

Jaeyun pointed at him triumphantly. “Ahh, getting defensive are we?”

Euijoo threw another pillow. This one hit him directly in the face.

“Okay,” Jaeyun mumbled through laughter, shoving the pillow away. “Fine. Maybe we’re both screwed. But—” He shrugged his shoulders, “We’re gonna be normal, good students. We’re gonna sit down and learn and pass this godforsaken final.”

“And we don’t stare,” Euijoo added, as if making a pact.

“Right. No staring. At her hands, or her mouth, or the way her hair falls—”

“Jaeyun.”

“Sorry.” He flopped back onto the bed with a groan, draping an arm over his eyes, “You really think we’ll be able to survive the next one?”

Euijoo didn’t have an answer. He just looked at the neat, precise handwriting on the notes you’d helped them create—your handwriting—and felt a confusing, thrilling surge of anticipation that had absolutely nothing to do with cellular respiration and everything to do with the quiet, brilliant girl who had, in two short hours, rewritten their entire expectations for the months ahead. Euijoo then realised just how high their libidos were.

Yeah, they were absolutely fucked.

_______________

You were not a virgin by any means.

You’d had sex approximately one time in your life, a virginal sacrifice with your first, shitty boyfriend.

The memory of your first and only time was less a memory and more a clinical footnote, a checklist of sensations: pressure, a little pain, a lot of awkward shifting, the smell of his cheap cologne, and a profound, echoing sense of ‘is this it?’ It was over quickly, and the only thing that had trembled was your resolve to ever do it again.

You hadn’t cum, not even close. You hadn't known you were supposed to, not really. The messy, overwhelming crescendos described in books and movies felt like mythical geography, a place you’d heard of but never visited.

Even by yourself, with your own fingers, the journey often petered out into a gentle, sighing plateau—a soft orgasm that was more a relief of tension than a transformation of it. Pleasant, but faint, like hearing a symphony from another room five kilometres away.

That distance, that gap between what you read and what you felt, was precisely why you’d plunged into the world of fanfiction.

The stories were a map to a territory you couldn’t seem to reach on your own. The authors didn’t just describe sex; they charted the emotional and physical crevices of pleasure—the winding paths of anticipation and the seismic shifts of release. You read them to understand, to feel it vicariously, to try and translate the words on the screen into a language your body could finally speak.

You’d always been able to recognize when someone was objectively attractive—you had eyes after all. But that recognition was a detached, aesthetic appreciation—like admiring a painting or a well-designed car.

It had never, not once, translated into a visceral, physical want. The idea of actually fucking someone from your real life had seemed vaguely abstract, and entirely separate from the specific hunger you cultivated with your curated stories.

Until today.

Until the fifth tutoring session. Because as always, the universe hated your very existence.

Somewhere between the first session and the fifth, things had shifted so naturally that you hadn’t even noticed it happening at first.

The formality disappeared in pieces. First went the painfully stiff texting—your original messages had looked like official university announcements. By the second session, Jaeyun had replied to one of your carefully structured texts with: coming rn don’t perish without us. And somehow after that, the entire dynamic cracked open.

Then went the awkward silences. Not completely—you were still you, unfortunately—but enough that tutoring no longer felt like performing a social experiment under observation.

Now Euijoo and Jaeyun just…..talked to you, which you couldn't even believe was humanly possible. They talked to you casually and constantly.

Jaeyun, especially, had apparently decided that your concentration existed solely to be destroyed.

“You know,” he’d said during the third session while leaning dramatically across the table, “if mitochondria are powerhouses, does that technically make me an energy source?” You didn’t even look up from your notes.

“No,” you replied flatly. “You make everyone around you more tired actually.”

Jaeyun gasped like you’d stabbed him directly in the chest while Euijoo laughed quietly beside him.

And the worst part? You liked it.

You liked it so damn much it made your chest physically hurt.

Euijoo started sitting closer without realizing it, shoulder occasionally brushing yours when both of you leaned over the same worksheet. Jaeyun started stealing your pens constantly because apparently he lost every writing utensil he touched within seven minutes.

Both of them had developed this annoying habit of looking at you whenever something funny happened, like your reaction was somehow part of the experience now.

And outside tutoring sessions—

God.

That was where things became genuinely surreal.

The first time Jaeyun called your name across campus, you genuinely turned around expecting there to be another person behind you. Instead, you found him jogging down the library steps toward you with Euijoo beside him.

“Yo.” Jaeyun said breathlessly, like this was a completely normal way to address your tutor, “did you finish the bio review sheet?” You nearly walked into a pillar and Euijoo noticed instantly.

“She does that a lot around us,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“I hate both of you,” you replied automatically. But your face burned the entire walk afterward.

Then came the coffee. The horrifying, relationship-coded coffee. By the fourth session they’d started showing up with drinks already in hand, not even asking anymore. Jaeyun remembered your order after hearing it once and Euijoo started quietly sliding pastries toward you whenever your studying went too long and you forgot to eat.

“You look dead,” he’d said simply one afternoon while placing an iced coffee beside your laptop.

“That’s because I’m studying.”

“We never noticed.” Jaeyun drawled sarcastically.

You stared at both of them suspiciously over the rim of your coffee. “You’re weirdly caring.”

Jaeyun blinked. “Were we supposed to let you deteriorate?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately. “That’s what most people do.” The way both their expressions softened afterward made something uncomfortable twist warmly in your chest.

And somehow, impossibly, people had started noticing. Because apparently being repeatedly seen around two of the most well-known boys on campus transformed you from ‘that quiet girl from Biology 212’ into a subject of active campus curiosity. You started catching looks, whispers, double takes. The first time it happened, you nearly had a nervous breakdown.

You’d been sitting on the edge of the basketball court one afternoon trying desperately to finish a lab report while Jaeyun and Euijoo played with some of the others from the frat.

You weren’t even supposed to be there. Jaeyun had somehow convinced you by saying: “Just sit there and work. Your academic aura might help us.”

Which was stupid and yet you came anyway, because you were a dumbass. You sat cross-legged on the bleachers with your laptop while the sound of sneakers squeaking against the court echoed around you.

At first you genuinely managed to focus.

Then Jaeyun yelled:

“THIS SHOT’S FOR YOU, MY TUTOR.”

The entire court erupted immediately. You looked up in horror just in time to watch him completely miss.

Nicholas collapsed onto the floor laughing and Sunghoon screamed so loudly someone from the next court turned around.

Jaeyun pointed accusingly at the hoop. “She distracted me!”

Euijoo grabbed the ball next, grinning toward you lazily.

“This one’s for her then.”

“You are not helping—”

Swish.

The ball went clean through the net. The entire gym exploded. You physically covered your face with your hands while Jaeyun shouted betrayal at the top of his lungs.

After that, it only got worse. Now people knew you. Or at least knew of you.

You earned the following monikers:

“The bio tutor.”

“The girl Euijoo keeps looking for.”

“The one Jaeyun annoys constantly.”

It should’ve made you uncomfortable and maybe it did a little. But every time one of them spotted you across campus and their entire face brightened in recognition before they waved you over like it was the most natural thing in the world, you somehow forgot to care.

And then came the damned fifth session.

You were in the zone, explaining the intricacies of protein synthesis, when Jaeyun had gotten a question spectacularly right, a complex one about tRNA anticodons.

“Holy shit, I did it!” he burst out, a grin splitting his face. He turned that brilliant, triumphant smile directly on you. “You’re a genius, honey. An absolute genius.”

Honey.

The pet name landed like a spark on dry tinder. It was casual, warm, dripping with unthinking affection and your pencil stilled on the page.

Not even thirty seconds later, Euijoo, who was quietly connecting another dot, looked up from his notebook, his hair falling into his eyes. “So if I follow this….it’s like an assembly line, and the ribosome is the foreman reading the blueprint?” At your nod, a look of profound satisfaction had settled on his face. “Huh….you make it make sense, doll.”

Doll.

Two pet names in under a minute.

Honey. Doll.

Your calm shell developed a hairline fracture and a slow heat began to pool in your stomach. You finished that session on autopilot, your mind replaying the words in their voices.

And now, you were back in your dorm and the heat felt like a wire about to bust. You could feel the hunger at the bottom of your throat, screaming at you to satiate it.

You didn’t even wait to change out of your clothes, your mind fixed on wanting those calloused hands that fumbled highlighters to be steady on your naked skin.

You wanted to know if Euijoo’s focused intensity in solving a problem would translate to the focused intensity of his gaze on your body. You wanted to hear Jaeyun’s saccharine sweet voice groan against your neck for a reason that had nothing to do with biology.

You opened your laptop, bypassing your usual bookmarks. You navigated to a story you’d saved but never dared to read: a lengthy, explicit fic.

Un, deux, trois.

Perfection.

You clicked on it, the threesome tag seemed to wink at you.

As the story unfolded—two devoted knights finally claiming their wary, brilliant queen—you didn’t see fictional characters in a fantasy castle.

You saw a library study carrel pushed against a wall. You saw Jaeyun’s broad shoulders blocking out the lights, his eager mouth finding yours. You felt Euijoo’s careful hands, the ones that took such neat notes, mapping your ribs with a scholar’s attention to detail.

In the story, one lover whispered praises while the other drove the heroine to the edge.

In your mind, it was Jaeyun’s voice, hot in your ear, “You’re so smart, honey, so perfect for us,” while Euijoo’s steady, relentless touch between your legs unraveled every coherent thought you’d ever had all while he was moaning, “Such a good doll for us, yeah?”

You chased the feeling, the image of the two of them—their contrasting hair, their gentle focus now turned devouring—so vivid behind your eyelids. The soft, sighing plateau you were used to wasn’t the destination tonight.

You were climbing that staircase to heaven, the coil of heat tightening beyond its usual limits, spurred on by the illicit, perfect fantasy of them.

Your breath hitched, your back arching off the bed. The release, when it crashed over you, was not a faint echo from another room. It was a symphony played right in the heart of you, loud, shuddering, and utterly transformative. For the first time, your body understood the map perfectly.

And it had two very specific, very real guides to thank for the journey.

Oh well.

Wasn't this so fucking great for you?

__________

They say ladies and gentlemen, that necessity is the mother of invention. In this situation, the necessity was your pussy yelling to be touched…….to the thought of both of them.

The aftershocks of that first, real orgasm left you feeling like a new person inhabiting an old skin. The world had shifted on its axis, and the new gravitational pull had two names: Jaeyun and Euijoo.

By the ninth tutoring session, your situation had officially evolved from “minor academic inconvenience” into “active psychological horny warfare.”

Because apparently both of them had decided pet names were part of your curriculum now.

Every “honey, can you explain that again?” from Jaeyun was a bolt of heat straight to your core. Every low, thoughtful “doll, I think I’ve got it now,” from Euijoo made your breath catch.

“Honey, pass me the worksheet.”

“Doll, you skipped question four.”

“Sweetheart, if I fail this exam I’m blaming you personally.”

You were going to pass away. At first you’d genuinely thought they were doing it accidentally but then Jaeyun called you “pretty tutor” after getting an answer right and winked when you nearly inhaled your own spit. So no.

Definitely intentional.

Which was exactly why your dignity had deteriorated enough for you to do something deeply embarrassing one night at two in the morning.

You copied the entire text of that life-altering fantasy threesome fic into a blank Google Doc. Then, with a feverish, shameless focus, you used ‘Find and Replace.’ The fictional knight with the eager heart became Jaeyun and the one with the careful hands became Euijoo. And of course you even rewrote some parts on your own with details that reminded you of them. Then you immediately hide the document inside three different folders.

It was a raw, unvarnished act of carnal need—nothing else was fucking satisfying you anymore.

The document became your secret altar, a place where their imagined voices—“That’s it, honey, take it,” and “So perfect for us, doll, so good”—could play out in explicit detail against the stark white page. You returned to it often, each visit a temporary balm that only deepened the ache.

You’d told yourself it was harmless. But even you knew it wasn’t.

The present session was another exercise in sustained composure. You were all reviewing for the upcoming midterm, a thick cloud of shared academic stress mingling with your own, far more potent, personal tension.

You’d joked around in the beginning, a rare comedy moment from you, that you’d made report cards for the both of them before the exam, just for motivation. They’d tried to sneak a peek at your laptop and you immediately pulled it away.

But now, nature was calling, so you sighed and closed your textbook with a decisive thump that made them both look up

“I’m trusting you both alone for five minutes,” you warned, pushing yourself off your chair. You pointed at both of them threateningly. “And don’t touch my laptop.”

Euijoo raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As you walked towards the library restrooms, the echo of your words felt hollow. Your laptop sat open on the table, your Google Drive a single careless click away.

The second you disappeared around the corner, Jaeyun leaned back in his chair dramatically. “She still doesn’t trust us.”

“To be fair,” Euijoo said calmly, “you do act like a raccoon with Wi-Fi.”

“I trusted you.” Jaeyun gasped.

But despite the joking, neither of them actually touched your things at first. Jaeyun flipped through his own notes while Euijoo absentmindedly reread one of your annotated diagrams. Then Jaeyun noticed the document tab still open behind your biology slides. His eyes narrowed.

“…What’s that?”

Euijoo glanced over lazily. “Probably notes.”

“Maybe it's the report cards.” Jaeyun snorted.

“Report cards.” Euijoo snorted, shaking his head.

But his eyes drifted to your laptop. Jaeyun followed his gaze. The unspoken thought passed between them, a current of shared, guilty curiosity.

“Just… a quick look?” Jaeyun whispered, his finger already hovering over the touchpad. “To see if she actually made us report cards?”

Euijoo didn’t say no. He just leaned in, his heart hammering a strange rhythm against his ribs and Jaeyun clicked before common sense could stop him.

And both of them froze instantly.

Complete silence.

Jaeyun blinked once. Then twice. Euijoo leaned forward slowly, eyes widening the further he read.

The document that filled the screen had no title. But the first line stole the air from the room.

‘Jaeyun’s mouth was hot and demanding on yours, while Euijoo’s clever fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your—’

A jolt, white-hot and seismic, went through both of them. Jaeyun’s hand jerked back from the laptop as if burnt and Euijoo’s breath left him in a silent rush.

For a second, there was only the hum of the library and the deafening roar of blood in their ears. Horror—at being caught—flared for a single, blinding moment. But it was instantly, overwhelmingly, drowned out by a surge of pure, undiluted relief so powerful it was dizzying.

You thought about this. About them. Like this.

They scanned the text, their eyes flying over phrases, seeing their own names woven into acts of breathtaking intimacy—praise, possession, shared focus. It was their fantasy, the one they’d only whispered about in their room, written out in your unmistakable prose.

“Oh my god,” Jaeyun breathed, his voice ragged.

Euijoo couldn’t speak. He was re-reading a line where he was described as ‘methodical, worshipful, leaving no inch of skin uncharted.’ His face was on fire.

“No way,” he whispered, dragging a hand over his face slowly, stunned disbelief melting into something dangerously close to delight. “You’re kidding.”

Jaeyun let out a quiet laugh of pure disbelief and leaned back in his chair. “Oh my god.”

The sound of footsteps approaching made both of them sit up immediately. Jaeyun clicked back to the biology slides at lightning speed while Euijoo tried very hard to look normal—which failed instantly because both of them looked visibly brighter when you sat back down.

You paused immediately. “…Why do you both look guilty?”

“Crazy accusation.” Jaeyun said quickly. Euijoo picked up a pen before he laughed accidentally.

Your eyes narrowed. “Oh my god. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” both of them answered far too fast. You stared harder.

Jaeyun cracked first. “There’s a party tonight.”

“What.”

“At the frat house,” he continued casually. “You should come.”

You blinked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Euijoo asked, quieter.

“Because I enjoy surviving social situations.”

Jaeyun leaned across the table dramatically. “We’ll stay with you the whole time.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“It should be.”

You looked between both of them suspiciously. Something definitely felt off. But there was also something strangely warm about the way they looked at you now.

Every shred of self-preservation you’d ever cultivated screamed at you to say no. Frat party? With them? It was a spectacularly bad idea, a one-way ticket to a social and emotional disaster.

Then Jaeyun hit you with the look.

His dark eyes went wide and pleading, his bottom lip jutting out just a fraction. It was a full-force, hopeful puppy-dog stare, completely at odds with the sinful things he’d just read about himself.

Beside him, Euijoo didn’t say a word. He just watched you, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he could see the exact moment your resolve would crumble.

It crumbled instantly.

“…For like one hour,” you muttered.

Jaeyun actually cheered, a soft, triumphant “Yes!” that he immediately tried to smother, looking around the library with a guilty grin. Euijoo ducked his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, strands of his hair falling forward to hide his face.

“Why am I getting the feeling my life’s about to get really complicated?” You chuckled weakly.

They both laughed then, a shared, relieved sound that eased the last of the tension. It was a laugh that said, ‘Yeah, it is, and we’re in it together.’

“I should… probably head out early,” you said, gesturing vaguely towards seemingly nothing. “To, uh, get ready, for my one-hour sentence.”

Euijoo watched you for a second before asking quietly, “What are you gonna wear?”

“Oh my god, good question.” Jaeyun immediately looked delighted.

You stared at both of them in betrayal. “Why are you acting like this is the Met Gala?”

“Because this is important,” Jaeyun replied seriously.

“It’s literally a frat party”

“So you’re saying you don’t respect our respectable establishment.” Jaeyun pouted up at you. Stupid pretty pink lips.

“I hate when you say things with confidence because it makes me nervous.” You groaned.

Jaeyun laughed while Euijoo leaned back in his chair, still looking strangely pleased just from the fact you’d agreed at all. You slung your bag over your shoulder and stood.

“Okay. One hour,” you warned again. “And if either of you abandon me there, I’m transferring universities.”

“We’ll text you the address.” Jaeyun said, his voice still bright with victory.

“Don’t be late.” Euijoo added, the quiet command in his tone sending a fresh shiver down your spine.

You disappeared around the corner before either of them could answer. The second you were fully out of sight, silence dropped over the table again.

Jaeyun slowly leaned back in his chair and Euijoo exhaled through his nose, dragging both hands over his face briefly. Jaeyun looked over immediately.

“So.”

Euijoo already knew where this was going. “Don’t.”

“She likes us.”

Euijoo stared at the ceiling like he was seeking divine patience.

Jaeyun grinned helplessly. “No, because actually think about this. She wrote about us.”

“Jaeyun.”

“She thought about us enough to write things down.”

“I’m aware,” Euijoo muttered, ears burning all over again. Because unfortunately, he was very aware. Jaeyun drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully before glancing sideways at him.

“You know why I invited her, right?” He said, biting his lip, an annoyingly attractive habit he had.

Euijoo lowered his hands slowly. “Because you have no survival instincts?”

“That too.”

Jaeyun’s grin turned slightly nervous underneath the humor now.

“But also because…” He hesitated once. “Maybe tonight gives us a chance to actually talk about it.” Euijoo went quiet.

Talk about it.

Oh.

Euijoo would have been lying if he said he wasn’t going to combust if he didn’t do all the things he’d read in the document to you in real life.

Jaeyun sighed dramatically, though his smile lingered. “If we don’t talk about it,” he muttered, “I’m gonna keep thinking about it until I fail biology again.”

Euijoo laughed quietly at that, though his own heart was beginning to race. Then after a second, he quietly admitted,

“…Yeah. Me too.”

___________

Your dorm looked like a small-scale crime scene.

Clothes covered half the floor. Makeup products sat scattered across your desk like evidence. Three separate outfits had already been rejected and thrown violently onto your bed over the course of forty-five minutes. You stared at yourself in the mirror with narrowed eyes.

This was stupid.

You were acting stupid.

It was just a party.

Not even a date, definitely not a date. Just one hour at a frat house with two boys you unfortunately found devastatingly attractive.

Cool.

So normal.

Your gaze drifted back toward the black dress hanging from your closet door which you had been trying hard to ignore. You’d bought it months ago during one of those dangerous online shopping spirals that happened at two in the morning when your brain convinced you that yes, actually, you were the type of person who attended rooftop parties and drank sparkling cocktails while looking mysterious.

Reality had proven otherwise and so the dress remained untouched ever since. Until now.

You grabbed it cautiously. It was short, scandalously short, short enough that your legs were on full display and your ass was perfectly framed and your chest was accentuated. The fabric hugged you more than your usual clothes did, soft black material dipping slightly at the neckline while the hem stopped mid-thigh. You stared at your reflection in silence. You looked pretty. Which was honestly a little alarming. Why the fuck were you putting in this much effort for some dumb party you wouldn’t have even heard of two months ago?

A knock sounded at your door before you could spiral further.

“You alive in there?” your friend Yujin called.

“Debatable.”

Yujin pushed the door open anyway and immediately froze. Then her jaw dropped. “Oh, you bitch.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been hiding all that under cardigans?” she demanded dramatically, stepping fully inside. “That is criminal behavior.”

Heat rushed into your face instantly. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Too much?” Yujin repeated like she was personally offended. “You look hot!”

You glanced at yourself again uncertainly. The dress really did look good, which unfortunately made you even more nervous. Because they were going to see you in it. Your stomach flipped violently.

You groaned into your hands. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because they’re hot and nice to you.” Yujin replied instantly, fixing one of your earrings for you.

Yujin had been one of your only real friends since first year—mostly because she’d adopted you against your will after catching you eating dry cereal alone outside a lecture hall once. And she knew you all too well.

You grabbed your small bag while trying very hard not to think about how Jaeyun would probably whistle obnoxiously the second he saw you. Or how Euijoo would look at you quietly for one dangerous second too long.

Your heart was already beating too fast. This was a disaster.

The frat house was visible from halfway down the street. Music pulsed through the night air loud enough that you could feel the bass before you even reached the front lawn. Groups of students crowded outside laughing loudly beneath strings of warm lights wrapped around the porch railings.

You stopped walking. Yujin kept going for three steps before realizing.

“Oh no,” she sighed, turning back toward you. “Don’t do this.”

“I can still leave.”

“You absolutely cannot.”

“I suddenly remembered I love staying home.”

Yujin grabbed your wrist before you could retreat. “You survived tutoring sessions with two campus heartthrobs,” she informed you firmly. “You can survive one frat party.”

People moved around you constantly as you approached the house, music and laughter spilling from open windows while colored lights flashed faintly inside.

Your nerves worsened with every step. Then the front door opened and you were about to evaporate into thin air.

But instead of Jaeyun or Euijoo, Fuma appeared in the doorway first. He blinked once when he saw you. Then slowly grinned.

“Well damn.”

You immediately wanted to disappear. “Please don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You implied it with your face.” He chuckled, “Never thought you’d actually come.”

Yujin snorted beside you while Fuma stepped aside to let both of you in, music immediately swallowing the conversation the second you crossed the threshold.

The frat house was warm and loud and overwhelming in the exact way you’d feared. Lights flashed dimly across crowded rooms while people moved everywhere at once, laughter rising over music, conversations overlapping into noise. Someone nearly ran into you carrying chips before apologizing and disappearing upstairs again. You instinctively moved closer to Yujin. Fuma noticed immediately.

“You’ll survive,” He laughed quietly before guiding you through the hallway. People looked over as you passed and somehow that made you even more aware of the tight fabric clinging to your skin.

“Where are they?” you asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

Fuma’s grin widened knowingly. “In the kitchen.”

You barely had two seconds to mentally prepare before Fuma led you around the corner and there they were.

Oh, this was just fucking unfair.

Fuck you universe.

Jaeyun sat on the kitchen counter laughing at something Nicholas was saying, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, dark hair messy like someone had run their hands through it repeatedly. A silver chain rested against the collar of his black shirt and—

Right.

You need to be breathing.

Very important for life.

Beside him, Euijoo leaned against the counter with a drink in one hand, hair pushed back slightly from his forehead. He wore a dark grey shirt that fit annoyingly well beneath an open black jacket.

What you would have given to be fucked stupid on that stupid counter with their stupid fingers.

Stupid stupid hot boys.

Both of them looked up at the exact same time. The conversation around the kitchen kept going normally, but the second their eyes landed on you, something shifted.

Jaeyun straightened slowly. Euijoo’s gaze moved over you once before returning to your face. A chill ran down your spine instantly. You suddenly became hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin.

Jaeyun recovered first. “Holy shit, am I in heaven?”

“You look beautiful.” Euijoo said quietly over the noise before Jaeyun could speak again.

Your heart betrayed you so violently you almost considered going to church and confessing your sins. But then again you probably would have imagined them fucking you in that tiny little booth so you steered away from the idea.

Nicholas whipped around so fast he nearly dropped his drink. “Oh my god,” he gasped dramatically. “Academic weapon spotted.”

Sunghoon looked up from where he’d been stealing fries directly off Jungwon’s plate and actually paused mid-bite. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Fuma undersold this situation severely.” You opened your mouth to respond and nothing came out.

Jaeyun’s grin widened immediately. “There she goes.”

“I’m—” you started, then stopped. Because unfortunately your brain had ceased functioning the second both of them looked at you like that.

“Thank you.” You managed finally, voice weirdly high. “I almost didn’t wear this.”

Jaeyun blinked. “Why?”

You gestured vaguely at yourself like that explained everything. “This is…a lot of skin.” You immediately looked down at the floor. “This is why I wear cardigans,” you muttered.

Jaeyun laughed softly. “No, seriously,” he said, still looking at you with that same dangerously warm expression, “you look really pretty.”

You physically short-circuited.

“Okay,” you said quickly, pointing at him. “You can’t just say things like that immediately after I arrive.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” You said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, “I need adjustment time.”

Nicholas burst out laughing. “Adjustment time?” he repeated.

“Yeah.” You defended instantly, “Not everyone’s a social butterfly like you guys.”

Sunghoon nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly valid.”

Euijoo smiled beside you now, placing a protective hand on the small of your back, “I think we’re gonna get a drink before she faints.”

“Excuse me—”

“Great idea!” Jaeyun hopped off the counter, “I’ll come with.”

Getting a drink was number infinity on the list of tasks that required three persons. But hey, who were you to complain? Some sort of pure angel who didn’t thirst over the two boys she tutored?

"Come on." Jaeyun chirped, already weaving through the crowd. "The good stuff's out back, quieter there."

Quieter was an understatement.

He led you through a chaotic kitchen, out a creaking screen door, and into a small, enclosed back porch. It was shrouded in shadows, lit only by a single, buzzing yellow bug light. A large, dented cooler sat against one wall, filled with ice and bottles. The roar of the party was muffled here, reduced to a dull thump. It felt secluded, dare you say intimate.

“See? Much better." Jaeyun said, rummaging in the cooler. "What's your poison, honey?"

You asked for something simple, so that you could hold onto it like a lifeline. As he fished out a hard seltzer and cracked it open, Euijoo leaned against the doorframe, blocking the most obvious exit back to the house.

Handsome motherfucker.

"So," Jaeyun began, handing you the cold can. His tone was light and conversational. "The tutoring's really helping. I think we might not totally bomb the midterm."

"It's all you guys," you said, taking a small sip. "You're doing the work."

"We have a good teacher," Euijoo said from his post. His voice was quiet, but it carried perfectly in the hushed space. "Very…..thorough."

There was a beat of silence, filled only by the distant bass. The air, which had been cool, suddenly felt thick and warm like being covered in sticky honey.

Jaeyun took a swig from his own beer. "Thorough is a good word for it." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. "Like that document you were working on. That was incredibly thorough.”

The can in your hand felt like a block of ice.

The document.

Oh.

Euijoo pushed off the doorframe. He didn't move aggressively, but with a slow, deliberate intent that made your breath catch. He walked towards you, his steps quiet on the wooden planks, until he was standing right in front of you.

Then he lifted an arm, placing his hand flat on the wall just beside your head, leaning in slightly. He wasn't touching you, but he’d effectively caged you in, his body blocking one side, the rough wall of the house at your back.

Jaeyun didn't move from his spot by the cooler, but his watchful gaze was just as potent. He took another slow drink, his eyes never leaving your face.

"No more running, doll," Euijoo said, his voice a low, intimate rumble. The stupid, stupid pet name, here and now, was a weapon, said in that deep and husky voice of his. "We saw our names on it.”

"All of it." Jaeyun added softly.

"So we need you to be truthful with us, doll." Euijoo continued, his free hand coming up to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Was that just a fantasy? Or do you want it to be reality?”

You could lie. You could try to laugh it off. But under the weight of their combined focus—Euijoo's searching gaze and Jaeyun's patient silence—all your defenses shattered. The truth was a living thing in your chest, pounding to get out.

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. "I do.” “What was that, doll?” Euijoo said, tightening his grip on your chin, “Speak up, pretty girl.”

“I—” You said, drawing in a shuddering breath, “I want it to be real.”

The words seemed to change the very atmosphere. Euijoo's eyes flared, a hot, satisfied gleam in the dim light. Jaeyun let out a slow, controlled breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Aww, honey. You like us that much?" Jaeyun pressed, needing the final confirmation. You nodded, unable to form more words.

For a long moment, no one moved. Your confession hung in the air like a paper lantern, transforming into a new reality that they were enjoying far too much.

Then, Euijoo’s thumb brushed once, softly, against your jawline before he dropped his hand. He straightened up, removing his arm from the wall, breaking the cage. The sudden lack of his proximity felt like a winter chill.

Jaeyun stepped forward then. He didn't touch you, he simply took your limp hand and wrapped your fingers more securely around the cold can of seltzer you'd almost forgotten you were holding.

"Good," Jaeyun said, his voice strangely gentle. "That's all we wanted to know."

Euijoo gave you one last, unreadable look—a mix of that blazing heat and something softer, almost approving. "Enjoy the party, pretty girl.”

And then, just like that, they turned and walked back through the screen door into the roar of the house, leaving you alone on the quiet, shadowed porch, clutching your drink with trembling hands, your entire world having just been thrillingly upended.

What the actual fuck had just happened?

And why the fuck were your panties so drenched? ________________

Whilst agreeing to come to the party, you had forgotten one very important detail.

You were the world’s most antisocial person who detested crowds with every fibre of her being.

Pushing back into the house had been like diving into a wall of sound and heat. The earlier introductions felt like a distant dream. Now, every shouted conversation, every burst of laughter, every accidental brush against you in the crowded hallway felt like a violation, the bass from the speakers an assault on your sternum.

Anxiety, a cold, slithering thing, began to coil in your stomach, tightening around the lingering heat. You scanned the pulsing mass of bodies for a familiar face—specifically, Yujin. You finally spotted her near the kitchen island, but any hope of rescue died instantly. She was draped over Nicholas’s shoulders, laughing uproariously at something he was shouting, a red plastic cup held aloft in a toast. She was in her element, completely and utterly off-duty as your safety net.

A wave of pure, claustrophobic panic crested over you. You couldn’t breathe. You needed out. Now.

Your feet moved before your brain fully caught up, carrying you on a desperate search through the shifting crowd. You found them—of course—in a slightly quieter corner of the living room, holding court with a small group. Euijoo was leaning against a bookshelf, listening to something Sunghoon was saying with a faint smile. Jaeyun was animatedly telling a story, his hands flying.

You didn’t have the capacity for social grace. You walked right up to them, interrupting the flow. Jaeyun’s story trailed off. You knew you probably looked wild-eyed and pale, a deer caught in a wolf pack’s den.

“I need to go home,” you blurted out, your voice strained over the music. “Now. Can one of you…?” You glanced desperately between Euijoo and Jaeyun, unable to finish the sentence. Take me? Save me?

The easy smiles faded from their faces. Euijoo straightened up, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your tense posture and your white-knuckled grip on your bag. Jaeyun’s expression shifted from surprise to immediate concern.

“Where’s Yujin?” Jaeyun asked, his voice cutting through the noise.

You just gestured vaguely, miserably, towards the kitchen. “With Nicholas. She’s…..busy.”

Euijoo didn’t ask another question. He simply nodded, a decisive dip of his chin. “I’ll get my keys.” He pushed off the bookshelf.

“I’m coming.” Jaeyun said instantly, already falling into step beside him. He shot an apologetic look at their friends.

Yet another task that did not require three people. Especially when the panties of one of the person’s was wetter than water itself.

Minutes later, you were sliding into the backseat of Euijoo’s clean sedan, Jaeyun got in the passenger side. The moment the doors closed, the cacophony of the party was severed, replaced by an absolute, crushing silence.

The engine purred to life. Euijoo navigated out of the packed street, his eyes fixed on the road. Jaeyun stared out the passenger window. No one spoke.

The silence in the car was thick with everything that had been said and everything that hadn’t. It was louder than the party had been. You sat in the back, curled slightly into the door, watching the streaks of streetlights pass over their profiles—Euijoo’s focused stillness, Jaeyun’s uncharacteristic quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of the engine and the turn signal’s steady, mocking click.

Enjoy the party, he’d said. You were definitely not enjoying the car ride.

The silence stretched through every turn, every stoplight, a suffocating blanket over the three of you. By the time Euijoo pulled into a visitor spot near your dorm, the tension had coiled so tight you felt you might snap. You moved to unbuckle your seatbelt, a mumbled "Thanks for the ride" already forming on your lips.

"Which floor?" Euijoo's voice cut through the quiet, calm and matter-of-fact. He was already turning off the engine.

"Oh, you don't have to—I can get up on my own," you stammered, the idea of them escorting you amplifying your anxiety tenfold.

"It's late." Jaeyun said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he popped his door open. The finality in his voice brooked no protest.

The walk across the dimly lit quad was just as silent as the car ride, their footsteps a synchronized echo behind you. The main lobby was deserted, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. You jabbed the elevator button, wishing for the stairs but knowing your heels—chosen in a moment of foolish, fantasy-inspired bravery—made that impossible.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. The three of you stepped into the mirrored box, and the close quarters made the silence even more profound. As the doors closed, sealing you in, your awareness of your own body became acute, screamingly so.

Your little black dress, which had felt so daring and powerful when you'd put it on, now felt like a trap. The hem was so short, the neckline plunged so deep. In the mirrored walls, you could see everything—the expanse of your thighs, the shadowed curve of your cleavage. And you could see them. You didn't dare look directly, but in the reflection, you caught it.

Jaeyun's gaze, usually so open and bright, was dark and fixed—not on your face, but tracing a slow, deliberate path down your reflected form. Euijoo stood with his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his eyes in the mirror were like lasers, burning with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was staring right at the deep V of your neckline, his expression unreadable but utterly focused. They weren't even trying to hide it. The acknowledgment of your fantasy had stripped away all pretense.

You stared rigidly at the ascending floor numbers, your face flaming, your earlier dampness returning with a vengeance. The elevator seemed to crawl.

Finally, with another merciful ding, the doors opened on your floor. You practically bolted out, the click of your heels on the linoleum too loud in the empty hallway. You led the way to your door, fumbling with your keys, painfully aware of the two presences looming behind you.

You got the door open and stepped across the threshold into the familiar, safe darkness of your dorm. You turned, a hurried "Okay, well, thanks again, goodnigh—" already tumbling out.

But before you could swing the door shut, a hand shot out. Jaeyun’s fingers curled around the edge of the door, not forcefully, but with an undeniable firmness that stopped its motion completely. You looked up, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Euijoo took a single, slow step forward, crossing the threshold to stand just inside your doorway, crowding your personal space. He looked down at you, a faint, cocky smirk playing on his lips—the same smirk you’d imagined a hundred times in your writing. His voice was a low, teasing rumble that vibrated in the small space between you.

“What, doll?” he asked, his eyes glinting with challenge and promise. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

The air in your doorway vanished, replaced by the heat of their presence. They were inside your space, their taller frames casting shadows over you in the dim light from the hallway.

You stumbled back a step, your heels catching on the rug, and they followed, a synchronized unit. Jaeyun released the door, letting it swing shut behind them with a soft, final click. The sound sealed you in with them. The familiar safety of your dorm was instantly transformed into an electrically charged arena.

You were backed against the edge of your desk, with nowhere else to go. Euijoo didn’t touch you, but he stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Jaeyun leaned against the closed door, his arms crossed, watching with a lazy, predatory interest.

“You’re shaking.” Jaeyun observed, his voice soft but clear in the quiet room.

“It’s cold,” you lied, your voice a thin thread.

Euijoo’s smirk deepened. He reached out, not to grab you, but to gently take a strand of your hair between his fingers, rubbing the silky texture.

“Liar.” He murmured, his tone conversational, almost casual. “Pretty little liar. Thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about with the guys you tutor standing right here.”

His words, so blunt, so filthy in their simplicity, sent a jolt straight through you. You whimpered, a tiny, pathetic sound you immediately wished you could take back.

Jaeyun pushed off the door and took a few steps into the room, his gaze sweeping over your cramped space before landing back on you.

“This where you wrote it?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop on the desk behind you. “Where you dreamed up all those pretty little scenes? Where you imagined what we’d feel like?”

Each word was a gentle probe, prying you open. They were talking about your deepest secret like they were discussing the weather, and the casual confidence of it was unraveling you faster than any overt aggression could have.

“I…” you tried, but no other words came.

Euijoo’s finger released your hair and trailed down the side of your neck, a whisper of a touch that made you shudder violently.

“You described it so well, honey,” he continued, his voice dropping to that intimate rumble. “The way you wanted to be touched, the way you wanted to be praised. Damn, almost made it seem real.”

Jaeyun was right in front of you now, standing beside Euijoo, boxing you in completely. “So here’s the question,” Jaeyun said, his eyes locked on yours. He reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “All that imagination…..do you want to see what the reality feels like?”

The question hung there, immense and terrifying. Your fantasy, your secret, was being offered back to you, in flesh and blood and breath. Your mind screamed a dozen warnings, but your body, still humming from the elevator, from their stares, from their filthy, casual words, had only one answer.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible.

“What was that, doll?” Euijoo’s head tilted. “We didn’t quite hear you.”

They were making you say it. They were making you claim it. The humiliation was a fire in your veins, mixing with the desperate want. Oh how pathetically you wanted them.

“Yes,” you said again, your voice trembling but louder.

Jaeyun’s thumb stilled on your cheek. A slow, beautiful smile spread across his face. He glanced at Euijoo, and they shared a look—a look of shared understanding, mutual hunger and triumph.

“Alright then,” Euijoo said, his smirk softening into something devastating. His hand came up to cradle your other cheek, so you were held between them, the center of their dual attention. “Good girl.”

Jaeyun leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s our clever girl,” he murmured, the praise sinking into your soul like a brand. “Now, let’s see how real we can make it for you.”

You always knew that you had a penchant for staying in the clouds, in the solitary heaven you’d created for yourself where everything was perfect and you were perfect and all was rainbows and cupcakes. Daydreaming was such a good way to escape this depressing and dark, real world.

But now?

Reality had never felt like such a fucking dream.

The first thing you registered after that was the solid press of Jaeyun's body against yours. One of his hands found your waist while the other cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his kiss. There was nothing tentative about it—he kissed you like he'd been waiting for permission for weeks, mouth warm and demanding, tongue sliding against yours before you could even think to part your lips.

You made a sound against his mouth, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and he swallowed it whole. His palm slid down from your waist to grip your thigh, hitching your leg up around his hip. Your dress rode up higher, the fabric bunching around your hips as his fingers found bare skin.

"Been thinking about this aaall night, honey," he murmured against your throat, lips trailing down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “You wore this tiny little thing for us, yeah?” His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, teasing, luxurious. “You’re too damn sweet, baby."

A rustle of movement from across the room reminded you that you weren't alone. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, and found Euijoo settled into the desk chair he'd pulled into the corner. He leaned back, legs spread wide, one hand resting casually on his thigh. His gaze was heavy-lidded, tracking every movement Jaeyun made against you like he was studying something precious.

"Oh please, don't stop on my account," Euijoo said, his voice low and smooth. A small smile curved his lips. "I'm enjoying the show, doll."

Heat flooded your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Jaeyun's fingers found your cunt through the damp fabric of your panties. Your breath hitched, head falling back against the wall. He pressed two fingers against you, rubbing slow circles over the soaked cotton, and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

"Already this wet?" Jaeyun's voice was husky with surprise and satisfaction. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, letting them fall to your ankles. "God, you've been hiding this from us all this time, haven't you? Sweet little girl, so quiet and proper—"

His words dissolved into a groan as he dipped his fingers between your folds, finding you slick and ready. He circled your clit once, testing, and your whole body jolted like an electric shock.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's it, honey."

Jaeyun worked you open slowly, one finger sliding inside, then two, curling and pressing until you were gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. The stretch was delicious, the pressure building low in your belly as he pumped his fingers in and out, his thumb pressing against your clit in rhythm.

Euijoo watched unmoving, but you saw the way his hand tightened on his thigh, the way his jaw tensed—when your breathing turned ragged, when your hips started rolling forward to meet Jaeyun's hand, he spoke.

"Look at him, doll. Look at what he's doing to you."

Your eyes found his across the room—dark, intense, focused entirely on you. The eye contact sent a thrill straight through you, and your walls fluttered around Jaeyun's fingers.

"You gonna cum for him?" Euijoo's voice dropped lower. "Let him feel it."

Jaeyun pressed harder, palm grinding against your clit as his fingers curled deep, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "That's it, honey. Let go—I've got you."

The orgasm hit you like a wave breaking, sudden and immense. Your back arched off the wall, a cry tearing from your throat as your body seized and shuddered around his hand.

It was nothing like the careful, solitary orgasm you'd given yourself in this very room before—this was devastating, all-consuming, pulling you under and leaving you gasping for air.

"Fuck….” Jaeyun muttered, watching you come apart against him. "Look at you. Fucking beautiful."

Before you could catch your breath, strong hands were lifting you. Perhaps it was under the stupor of your newfound pleasure that you didn't even notice Euijoo crossing the room, his arms sliding under your knees and back as he carried you the few steps to your bed. He laid you down gently, the mattress dipping under your weight.

“My turn?” He said, and it wasn't a question.

Euijoo settled between your thighs, pushing your dress up past your hips until you were bare to him, glistening and sensitive.

Jaeyun moved to the head of the bed, propping himself against the wall, one hand reaching down to brush the hair from your face.

Euijoo's first touch was a kiss—soft, almost reverent, pressed to the inside of your thigh. Then another, higher; then his tongue, flat and warm, sliding through your folds from bottom to top.

You whimpered, hips bucking, oversensitive from your first orgasm. But Euijoo held you down with firm hands on your thighs, anchoring you as he worked you open with his mouth.

"Easy, doll.” Euijoo murmured against your cunt, and the vibration made you gasp. "We're not done yet."

He ate you like a man starving, tongue circling your clit, dipping inside you, lapping up every drop of wetness. He found a rhythm—long, slow licks that built pressure deep in your core, punctuated by sharp sucks that made your vision white out.

His nose pressed against your clit as his tongue fucked into you, and you heard yourself begging, words falling out of your mouth without permission.

"Please, please, please—"

"One more," Euijoo said, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his chin slick, his eyes dark with hunger. "Give me one more, doll. I know you have it." He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked, two fingers sliding into you, curling in that same devastating spot Jaeyun had found.

The combination was too much, exactly enough—your second orgasm crashed over you like a thunderstorm, harder and deeper than the first, ripping a scream from your throat that echoed off the dorm room walls.

Euijoo didn't stop—riding you through it, tongue gentle now, lapping at your sensitive flesh until you were twitching and moaning, your hands fisting in the sheets. Only then did he crawl up the bed, his lips and chin glistening, and press a kiss to your forehead.

"There she is," he whispered, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized you'd shed. "Perfect little thing."

Your body was a trembling sea of aftershocks, floating in a haze of endorphins and praise. Euijoo’s gentle kiss on your forehead felt so sweet and searing. You could feel him shift beside you on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.

From the other side, a low, appreciative chuckle broke through the heavy silence. You turned your head to see Jaeyun. His own need was evident in the tight line of his jaw and the heat in his eyes. He was leaning against your headboard, having shed his shirt at some point you couldn’t remember.

“Look at her.” Jaeyun said, his voice rough. He reached out, his fingers tracing a path from your knee up your inner thigh, a touch that was both an angelic caress and a possessive claim. “Absolutely ruined. And we’ve barely even started, baby.”

Euijoo propped himself up on an elbow beside you, his gaze moving from your dazed face down your splayed, spent body. “She took it so well, didn’t she?” he mused, his tone one of proud admiration. “Just like she wrote she would.” He chuckled, “Our smart girl, yeah?”

The reminder of your own words, of the script they were now following, sent a fresh, dizzying thrill through you. You were living your own story.

And fuck did the line where reality and fiction blend feel like taking nectar in your tongue.

Jaeyun’s hand slid higher, his thumb brushing through the wetness Euijoo had left behind. You jolted at the contact, still impossibly sensitive. “Think she’s ready for more?” he asked Euijoo, though his eyes never left yours.

Euijoo’s hand came to rest on your stomach, a warm, heavy weight. He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear. “That’s the question, honey,” he murmured, the petname a velvet command. “You gave us two beautiful, perfect little gifts. But we’re not done, are we?”

He pulled back to look at you, waiting for an answer. Your mind was foggy, your body pliant and humming. All you could do was shake your head weakly. Not done at all.

Jaeyun’s smile was sharp as he moved, swinging his legs off the bed to stand. You heard the soft sound of his belt buckle clinking, “Good.” He said, his voice dropping into a deeper register. “Because we’ve been sharing you so nicely, I think it’s time you felt what that’s really like.”

Euijoo pressed another kiss to your temple before moving as well. He sat up, his back against the wall, and patted his thigh. “Come here, doll. Let’s get you comfortable.”

With trembling limbs, you let him guide you, pulling you up to straddle his lap, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you securely against him. From this vantage point, you watched Jaeyun finish undressing, the intent in his movements clear and devastating.

“Remember what you wrote about sharing, clever girl?” Euijoo whispered into your hair, his hands smoothing over your hips. “About being ours?” You could only nod, your breath catching as Jaeyun approached the bed, his gaze burning into you.

“Time to make it real,” Jaeyun said, his voice a soft rumble as he kneeled on the mattress before you. He reached out, tilting your chin up with a finger. “You’re doing so well. Just keep being good for us.”

The shift in position was fluid, almost choreographed—Jaeyun guiding you onto your side, his body molding against your front as his arm wrapped around your waist. His chest was warm against your back, or rather, your front against his, and you felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh through his jeans. Behind you, the mattress dipped as Euijoo settled in, the heat of his body sealing against your spine.

"Comfortable, doll?" Euijoo's breath ghosted over the back of your neck, and you shivered, nodding weakly.

Jaeyun's hand slid down your stomach, fingers grazing your hypersensitive clit, making you jolt. "She's more than comfortable," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "She's perfect. Ready for us, honey?"

Before you could answer, Euijoo's hand found your hip, guiding your leg back, opening you up to him. You felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick folds, not entering, just teasing, sliding through your wetness. At the same time, Jaeyun aligned himself with your entrance, his tip nudging against your opening. You never knew the both of them to be so mean, but fuckkkk did it feel so good.

"Who do you think will make her cum first?" Euijoo's voice was low, his lips brushing your ear.

Jaeyun chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. "She's already cum twice from my fingers and your mouth. But inside? I think I've got this one, baby."

"Bet." Euijoo said, and before you could process the word, he pushed inside you in one slow, steady thrust.

The sound you made was broken, a high keen that turned into a gasp as Jaeyun entered you at the same time, filling your other hole with equal slowness. For a moment, you were suspended between them, stretched so fucking full in both ways, the sensation overwhelming—too much and not enough, a perfect, aching fullness that made your eyes roll back back back.

"Oh—fuck! nghhh…” you heard yourself whimper, your voice thin and wrecked. You felt like a sinner in church and an angel roaming Eden all at once. But what thoughts were even required when both of their cocks inside you had your brain going quiet for once?

"That's it, honey." Jaeyun breathed, his forehead pressing against yours. His hips were still, letting you adjust, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your waist. "Take your time. We've got you."

Behind you, Euijoo let out a low groan, his fingers digging into your hip. "Fucking hell doll, you're so tight. Squeezing me like you were made for this."

“She is made for this, yeah?” Jaeyun said, his warm breath tickling your skin.

They stayed still for a long moment, letting you feel the stretch, the heat, the weight of both of them buried inside you like roots in earth. Your breath came in ragged pants, your body trembling between them; the fullness was maddening, a deep pressure that made your head spin.

Then Jaeyun moved, pulling back out halfway and thrusting back in, a slow stroke that had your mouth falling open. Euijoo followed his rhythm, withdrawing and pushing back in counterpoint—one sliding out as the other slid in, creating a continuous wave of sensation that built with every movement.

"Oh, oh, oh—" The sounds fell from your lips unbidden, broken and desperate, a lamb on the altar begging to have her pretty throat be marked red.

"Listen to her," Euijoo muttered, his pace quickening. "Listen to those pretty sounds. She's been so quiet all semester, and now look at her."

Jaeyun's hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat on his brow. "Yeah, honey. Let us hear you. Let everyone in the hall hear what we're doing to you."

They fell into a punishing rhythm, each driving into you with increasing urgency. It wasn't gentle—it was rough, demanding, but the way Jaeyun kept brushing the hair from your face, the way Euijoo pressed open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder—fuck for a moment, it made you feel like they actually cared.

"Who's gonna make you cum first, baby?" Euijoo growled, his pace quickening. His hand slid around your hip, fingers finding your clit and pressing hard. "Me or him?"

Jaeyun answered by driving deeper, hitting a spot that made you cry out. "Her pussy's squeezing me like she's close. Come on, honey, cum for me. Beat him to it."

The competition spurred them both, each trying to outdo the other—Jaeyun fucking you harder, Euijoo's fingers working your clit faster, their words blurring into a stream of praise and encouragement. You were caught between them, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as they used your body for their race. And you did not give a single fuck about anything else at that moment.

"Fuck, she's clenching around me," Jaeyun groaned. "She's close, she's so close—"

"Cum for us, doll," Euijoo demanded, his thrusts growing sloppy. "Cum with me. Now."

Your orgasm cracked through you like lightning, sudden and violent, tearing a scream from your throat that was muffled by Jaeyun's mouth crashing against yours. Your body convulsed between them, waves of pleasure ripping through you as your walls clamped down around both of them.

"That's it, that's it, fuck—" Jaeyun's hips stuttered, and you felt him spill inside you, hot and thick, his groan swallowed by the kiss.

Behind you, Euijoo followed, his body tensing as he buried himself deep, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he came. His hand never stopped pressing against your clit, riding you through the aftershocks until you were sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body limp and trembling.

When it was over, the only sounds were heavy breathing and your quiet, hiccupping sobs. Euijoo pulled out gently, collapsing behind you, while Jaeyun eased out with a wince, his hand immediately coming up to wipe the tears from your face.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice soft now, all the roughness gone. "You okay, honey? Was that too much?"

You shook your head, unable to form words, tears still leaking from your eyes. Euijoo's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, sandwiching you between them.

“Yeah she’s alright. Just sore yeah?” Euijoo said, his lips pressing to the back of your head. "That means we did our job right."

Jaeyun laughed, a breathless, satisfied sound, and pressed a kiss to your nose. "Told you she was perfect. Look at her, pretty little thing.”

You lay there, cocooned between their bodies, the warmth of them surrounding you as the tears dried on your cheeks and your breathing slowly steadied. Nothing in your life had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever come close.

And you knew that nothing ever would for the foreseeable future.

__________________

Three days.

Three days of aching muscles, of tender reminders every time you shifted in your chair or climbed the stairs to your dorm. A delicious, secret soreness that made you blush whenever you remembered its source.

You’d missed Intro to Psych on Monday, texting your professor a vague excuse about a migraine. An hour later, there was a soft knock on your door. It was Jaeyun, holding a neatly bound set of notes and a small white pastry box from the expensive French bakery downtown.

“Compliments of the house,” he’d said, his smile easy but his eyes holding a familiar, knowing heat. “Euijoo sends his regrets. He’s…tied up with family.”

Inside the box were two perfect, flaky pain au chocolat. The apology was unspoken but clear, and it made your stomach flutter. They’d wrecked you, and then they’d brought you pastries. The absurd domesticity of it was almost more overwhelming than the night itself.

Now, it’s Wednesday afternoon. You’re in the library, tucked into a secluded carrel on the third floor, the quiet hum of study around you. The scent of old paper and lemon-scented wood polish filled the air. Biology 201 notes were spread before you, but they might as well be hieroglyphics.

Because Jaeyun was here.

Euijoo, true to his word, was at a family function so it was just you and Jaeyun. He’d suggested the library with a perfectly straight face, citing the need for a “distraction-free environment.” The irony was a breathing thing between you.

He was sitting right beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours whenever he turned a page. For the first twenty minutes, he was the picture of academic focus, explaining enzymatic pathways with his usual patient clarity. But then his hand, which had been resting on the table, found its way to the back of your chair. As always.

His fingers began to play with the ends of your hair, idly twisting a strand around his index finger. The touch was casual, almost absent-minded, but it sent a jolt of awareness straight down your spine. You tried to focus on the diagram of a mitochondria.

“You’re not following,” he murmured, his voice low so as not to carry in the quiet library.

“I am.” You whispered back, your eyes glued to the page.

“Mmhmm.” His fingers left your hair and for a second, you thought you were safe. Then his hand dropped below the solid wood of the table, out of sight of any wandering eyes, coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. Of course it had to be the one day you wore a skirt.

Jaeyun didn’t move for a long moment, just let his hand sit there; then his fingers began to stroke a gentle, up-and-down caress along the inner seam of your jeans—a chaste touch through the thick fabric.

“Jaeyun…” You breathed out, a desperate, quiet plea.

“Shh,” he hushed you, his face the picture of scholarly concentration as he looked at your textbook. His hand slid higher, his thumb now pressing in a slow circle against the sensitive muscle of your inner thigh.

You whimpered, the sound swallowed by the vast, quiet room. The words were blurring, all you could feel was the relentless stroke of his hand, moving steadily higher.

Jaeyun leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, his breath warm. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” he whispered, the words a secret just for you. His fingers reached the juncture of your thighs and pressed, a firm pressure.

Your whispered "yes" was barely audible, but Jaeyun's eyes darkened with something that made your stomach flip. He closed your textbook with a soft thud, slid it into his bag, and stood, extending his hand to you.

"Come on.” He said, his voice calm and collected, as if he asked you to follow him to the library's storage room every day. Not like you would have minded if he asked everyday.

You took his hand, your legs unsteady as he led you through the maze of shelves until you reached a narrow door tucked between two towering bookcases. He pushed it open, revealing a small storage area—old filing cabinets, boxes and a single dim bulb casting weak light over the cramped space. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the world outside ceased to exist.

Jaeyun turned to face you, backing you against the wall until your shoulders pressed against the cold metal of a filing cabinet. His hands found your waist, gripping the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric in his fists.

"You've never done this before, have you, honey?" He asked, but it wasn't really a question. His thumb traced your lower lip, pressing slightly. You shook your head, heat flooding your cheeks.

“That’s ok, I’ll teach you, hmm?” He smiled, a soft, almost tender expression that contrasted sharply with the hunger in his eyes. "Just do exactly what I say, and you'll be perfect."

Jaeyun guided you down, his hands gentle but firm on your shoulders until you were kneeling on the dusty floor, the cold tile seeping through the fabric of your skirt. He stood over you, tall and imposing, and you watched as his hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with slow movements.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice low.

You obeyed, parting your lips. He pulled himself free, his cock already hard and straining, the tip brushing against your lower lip. The taste of salt and skin hit your tongue before you'd even taken him in.

"Good girl.” He breathed, and then he fed himself into your mouth, one slow inch at a time.

The sensation was overwhelming—the weight of him on your tongue, the stretch of your lips around his girth, the musky taste of him flooding your senses. Your hands flew up to grip his thighs for balance, and you felt the muscles jump under your fingers.

"That's it…fuckkk…” He groaned, his head falling back. "Just like that. Let me feel that pretty mouth."

His hand found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, and he began to guide you, setting a slow rhythm that had you bobbing your head against his hips. You tried to relax your throat, to take him deeper, but the instinct to gag fought against your willingness.

"You can take more," he murmured, his voice strained now, losing its composed edge. "Relax your throat for me.” You tried, focusing on the instruction, and when you managed to take him a little deeper, his whiny groan was your reward.

"Fuck yes…ohhhh..” Jaeyun hissed, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're doing so well, baby. So fucking perfect on your knees."

His hips began to move, a shallow thrust that pushed him deeper into your throat, and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you struggled to accommodate him. But the taste of his approval, the sound of his voice breaking for you—it drove you forward, made you want to be better, want to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

"Close.” He panted, his rhythm faltering. "I'm so close, honey. Where do you want it?" You couldn't answer with your mouth full, but you looked up at him, eyes wet and pleading, and he seemed to understand.

Jaeyun pulled out abruptly, his hand moving to stroke himself twice, three times, before he spilled across your lips and cheeks—hot, thick ropes of cum that painted your skin. The sight of you, kneeling before him with his release marking your face, made him groan again, his chest heaving.

"Fuck.” He breathed, staring down at you. "That's the prettiest thing I've ever seen." He crouched down, using his thumb to wipe a stripe of cum from your cheek and bring it to your lips. "Taste it," he instructed. You parted your lips and let him feed it to you, the bitter taste filling your mouth.

"One more," he said, his voice already thick with renewed arousal. "You can give me one more, can't you?"

You nodded, your throat raw but eager, wanting to feel him in your mouth again and again again. Cock drunk slut, you thought to yourself. Jaeyun smiled, a sharp, possessive curl of his lips, and guided your mouth back to him. He was already hardening again, sensitive and swollen, but he didn't hesitate to push himself past your lips.

This time, he was less patient, less gentle. You’d learn your lesson, time to put it to the test right? His hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your throat with shallow thrusts. Each push made you gag, tears streaming down your cheeks, but the noises he made—the desperate, whiny gasps that fell from his lips like angelic choruses—were worth every second of discomfort.

"Fuck, your mouth is—hah—so good…”groaned, his hips stuttering. "Such a good little cocksucker. Taking it so well for me."

Your hands clutched at his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he used you, chasing his second release with single-minded focus. The sounds you made were wet, obscene, gurgling around his length, and the shame of it only made the heat between your thighs burn hotter.

"Look at me," he demanded. You forced your tear-blurred eyes up to meet his. "Watch me cum for you again."

And then he was spilling down your throat, hot and thick, a broken moan tearing from his lips as he emptied himself into your mouth. He held you there, his cock twitching against your tongue, until the last wave passed.

When he finally pulled out, you slumped forward, your forehead pressing against his thigh, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Your throat burned, your jaw ached, and your face was a mess of tears, drool, and cum.

But when he crouched down, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the mess with gentle thumbs, you felt nothing but a warm, glowing gratitude.

And also the urge to do this a hundred times over.

_____________

It really seemed to be a sort of schedule at this point—a ritual of horniness even.

If Jaeyun got you coffee one day, Euijoo would get it for you the next day. If Euijoo fixed the ribbon in your hair in the morning, Jaeyun would brush dust off your shoulder in the evening.

So if Jaeyun had taught you how to use those pretty little lips of yours, Euijoo had to teach you something too?

Which is how you ended up in the situation you were in.

To be fair, it had been fairly Jaeyun’s fault. After all, nobody told him to get crap drunk and pass out in the middle of the day, completely forgetting the fact that they’d invited you over to the frat building for tutoring in view of your usual library being closed.

So after being invited in by Jungwon and being told to wait in the kitchen while Euijoo came back from class (he’d also told you all about his pet cactus in the meanwhile before Fuma dragged him off by the collar of his shirt), you were finally sitting in his. Alone. With him. Yeah, completely survivable situation.

It was neater than you’d expected—books arranged by subject and color on a shelf, a single succulent thriving on the windowsill, the scent of clean laundry and his cologne—something crisp and subtle with a hint of sandalwood. The door was closed, muffling the distant sounds of a video game and shouting from elsewhere in the house.

You’d set up at his small desk, your biology textbook open to a chapter you were not interested in. Euijoo had pulled his desk chair right beside yours, his arm brushing yours as he leaned over the page.

For the first fifteen minutes, it was productive. He was nodding along to all your explanations, tracing his fingers over the particularly harder sections and chuckling whenever you made some ridiculous analogy to explain. But then his gaze, always so careful and respectful, drifted.

It landed on the V-neck of your shirt, on the sliver of skin and the hint of lace-edged cleavage the dip of the fabric revealed. Had you worn this top on purpose? Of course not. But with the way your inner thighs were heating up at the moment, the way you were sitting, the subtle arch of your back—it all felt like a swan dance to seduce him.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just…..looked. His pen, which had been tapping a rhythm on the page, stilled. The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing thicker and warmer.

“This is a complex system,” You said, trying not to let your voice waver. His finger came to trace a line on the textbook, but his eyes lifted to yours as you continued. His gaze dropped back to your chest, lingering.

“Explain it again?” He asked, though his eyes never seemed to go to the actual words on the page. Euijoo’s voice was so rough and low pitched now, practically a growl that your breath hitched.

He reached out then, not for you, but for the pencil cup on his desk, selecting a pen, his movements slow. As he pulled his hand back, the back of his knuckles grazed the upper swell of your breast, just above your shirt’s neckline. The touch was fleeting, accidental in its choreography but devastating in its effect. A bolt of pure, liquid heat shot straight to your core. You flinched, a tiny, involuntary jump.

A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. He went back to the textbook, pointing at a paragraph, “Can we do this again?”

But you couldn’t even answer him. He shifted in his chair, turning his body more towards you, his knee pressing against yours under the desk, “I don’t think I get this part, principle of concentration or whatever.”

Euijoo was looking at your mouth, then your eyes, then back at the revealing dip of your shirt. The academic pretense was a thin, shimmering veil now, and you were both watching it dissolve.

The scent of him—that clean sandalwood and something uniquely, essentially Euijoo—enveloped you. His hand came up again, but this time there was no pretense of reaching for a pen. His fingertips brushed the column of your throat, then drifted down, skimming the sensitive skin just above the neckline of your shirt. You stopped breathing.

“Euijoo,” you managed, a weak protest that sounded more like a plea.

“Yes, doll?” he asked innocently, his fingers pausing, his thumb now stroking a hypnotic little circle on your collarbone. “What is it?”

This handsome asshole.

“You know, Jaeyun told me something interesting.” He leaned in even closer, his lips beside your ear.

His breath was warm. “Taught you how to use that pretty little mouth, hmm?” He murmured, the words a soft, sinful secret. “I think it’s my turn to teach you something else, don’t you think darling?”

His hand finally slipped past the barrier of your shirt, his palm curving over the lace of your bra, cupping you fully. You gasped, arching into the touch despite yourself.

Euijoo hummed, a sound of deep approval. His thumb found your nipple through the lace and rubbed, slow and firm. “Learning pretty quick, aren’t you doll?”

So that was how you’d ended up in the position you were currently in. Sitting comfortably on his lean waist, while his hands gripped your hips as he looked up at you with a look of worship in his eyes. Like you’d become his new deity to shower praise upon.

The offer had slipped out so casually, like he was asking if you wanted another cup of coffee. “Let’s take some of that stress off, yeah?” Euijoo had said, his voice low and steady, eyes fixed on yours with that intense focus. Your mouth had gone dry, but you'd nodded before your brain could catch up with your body.

Now here you were, perched on his waist, his bed creaking softly beneath the two of you. He'd stripped off his shirt somewhere between the desk and the mattress, leaving him in just a loose pair of grey sweats that did nothing to hide how much he wanted you. His hands found your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above the waistband of your skirt.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, looking up at you like you were something sacred. "God, look at you. Sitting on me like you own me." Your hands braced against his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath warm skin. His heart was racing—you could feel it hammering against your palms.

"You need to take this off, doll.” Euijoo said, fingers hooking into the hem of your pink shirt. "Can't teach you properly with it in the way."

You let him pull it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second glance. His eyes dropped to your chest, and the sharp inhale he took made heat pool low in your belly.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Can I touch them, pretty?"

You nodded, and his hands were on you instantly, cupping the weight of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. His thumbs traced over your nipples, already hard and sensitive, and you gasped at the contact.

"Please…" you managed, the word barely a whisper.

Euijoo's fingers found the clasp of your bra with practiced ease, and soon the garment joined your shirt on the floor. The cool air hit your bare skin for half a second before his mouth was on you, lips wrapping around one nipple while his hand worked the other. You cried out, your hips bucking forward against his stomach. The pressure was perfect, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak while his thumb rolled the other between his fingers.

"That's it," he murmured against your skin, switching to give the other breast the same attention. "God, your tits are perfect. Been thinking about them all week."

"How long?" you gasped, fingers threading through his hair.

"Since the first time you wore that pretty little pink top," he admitted, lips trailing up your chest to your collarbone. "Couldn't focus on a single thing you said.”

You should have been embarrassed, but the confession only made you wetter, made you grind down against his hard length with more desperation. The friction through his sweats was maddening, not nearly enough. Euijoo's hands guided your movements, showing you how to rock your hips against him, how to find a rhythm that made his eyes roll back.

"Feel that? Feel what you do to me, doll?" he asked, voice strained. "You nodded, focusing on the motion, on the way his cock pressed against you through the layers of clothing. It wasn't enough, you needed more.

"I want—" you started, but the words caught in your throat.

"I know what you want," he said softly, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. "But you have to ask nicely, baby.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, but the ache between your thighs overpowered any shyness. "I want you inside me. Please, Euijoo."

"Yeah?" His voice was thick, almost reverent. "You wanna ride me, sweet girl?”

"Yes, please, please—"

The sudden tightening of his hands settled on your hips told you everything you needed to know. Jealous, jealous Euijoo, how dare Jaeyun have you alone before him? His thumbs pressed into the jut of your hip bones, grounding you, holding you steady as you hovered above him.

"Then take what's yours," he breathed, the words barely a whisper but he heard them.

Your fingers, trembling with need, fumbled for the waistband of his grey sweats. The fabric was soft, worn, and the simple intimacy of undressing him like this sent another jolt of heat through you. He didn't help, just watched you with heavy-lidded intensity, his chest rising and falling in a quickened rhythm.

You hooked your thumbs under the elastic and the thin cotton of his boxers beneath, pushing them down in one urgent motion. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already leaking at the tip, straining upwards against his stomach. The sight stole the air from your lungs, he was so painfully and beautifully hard for you.

"Look at you," Euijoo murmured, his voice rough with awe and impatience. "So pretty for me.”

"Slow," he instructed, his voice low and controlled, nothing like the breathless, whiny sounds Jaeyun had made in the library. Euijoo was so very attractively calm. "Lower yourself onto me slowly, doll.”

You positioned yourself, the blunt, hot head of him nudging against your soaked entrance. A shuddering breath escaped you. You already felt so full in a way that felt like coming home. Your hands braced against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. You whined high as you sank down, inch by inch, the stretch of him filling you in a slow, burning glide that made your vision blur. His fingers tightened on your hips, a sharp inhale escaping through his nose.

"Good girl…" he breathed. "Just like that. Take all of me."

When you were fully seated, his pelvis flush against yours, you stilled, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He was so deep inside you, hitting a spot that made your thighs tremble. He let you adjust, his thumbs stroking soothing circles into your skin.

"Now," he said, his voice patient, almost gentle, "roll your hips baby, take it slow.”

You tried, moving your hips in an awkward circle, and his hands guided you, showing you the rhythm. His grip was firm, correcting your angle, tilting your pelvis until the motion felt natural. The friction was maddening, his cock dragging against your walls with every slow rotation.

"There," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. "You're learning so well doll."

Then his hands were on your skin, cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, teasing passes. "Beautiful," he said, almost to himself.

You moaned, your rhythm faltering as pleasure spiked through you. He pinched lightly, rolling the hardened peaks between his fingers, and your hips stuttered, grinding down harder against him.

"No," he corrected, his grip on your breast tightening just enough to make you gasp. "Don't change the pace. You can feel good and still follow instructions like a good doll."

You nodded, biting your lip, forcing your hips to return to that slow, rolling grind. He rewarded you by bowing forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue against the sensitive bud made you cry out, your fingers threading through his hair as he sucked and laved at your skin.

His hands never stopped moving. One stayed at your breast, kneading and squeezing, while the other slid down your side, gripping your ass to help guide your movements. His mouth switched to your other nipple, giving it the same attention, and you felt the coil tightening in your belly, hot and insistent.

"Euijoo…." you whimpered, your voice breaking.

"Not yet," he said, pulling back, his lips glistening. He looked up at you, his eyes sharp and focused. "I want you to cum with me. Can you do that, baby?" You nodded, desperate, willing to do anything he asked. "Then keep riding me. Just like this. Don't speed up."

The minutes stretched into an eternity of sensation—his hands on your breasts, pinching and teasing, the slow, torturous grind of your hips, the feeling of him buried so deep inside you that you couldn't tell where he ended and you began. The pleasure built in waves, each one higher than the last, until you were trembling on the edge, your breath coming in sobbing gasps.

"Now," he said, his voice strained, finally losing its composure. "Cum for me."

And you did. Your orgasm crashed through you, your back arching, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your walls clenched around him. He followed immediately, his hips bucking up into you as he spilled inside you, his groan low and guttural, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises.

You collapsed forward, your forehead pressing against his, both of you breathing hard, sharing the same air. His hands softened, sliding up your back, holding you close as you trembled through the aftershocks.

Well there went another three days of losing all motor function in your legs.

And you were still going to ask him for another round.

_________________

It was almost funny how fast two months had passed by.

Perhaps it felt like that because now, every other day you were being filled to the brim by either one of them or both of them at the same time. And to be honest, you were too thoroughly, blissfully fucked-out to even think about asking the infamous ‘what are we’ question. The answer, in every touch and whispered praise, felt obvious: you were theirs. Their perfect girl.

The proof was in your grades. The final biology exam results had been posted, and you’d passed with flying colors, a crisp ‘A’ gleaming beside your student ID. The more surprising—or perhaps not surprising at all—revelation was that Euijoo and Jaeyun had also scored remarkably high. Jaeyun, who’d claimed to be “barely passing” before, had landed a solid A. Euijoo, predictably, had aced it with an A+. They’d celebrated your collective success that night in Euijoo’s room, their congratulations taking a deeply physical and profoundly satisfying form.

But that had been a week ago. A long, torturous, dry week.

How rude.

Since turning in their final projects, both of them had become suddenly, maddeningly busy with “end-of-semester logistics” for their frat. Brief, distracted texts, apologies muttered through yawns when you saw them in passing, a peck on the cheek that felt brotherly at this point—it was infuriating. The constant, humming attention you’d grown addicted to had vanished, leaving you twitchy and empty.

You were frustrated, more than frustrated—you were a live wire of neglected need. And tonight, they were throwing a party to mark the end of exams. Revenge, you decided, was a dish best served looking utterly devastating.

That was why you were standing in front of your full-length mirror, critically examining your reflection. The dress was baby pink, a shade so innocent it bordered on absurd. The fabric was soft and clingy in a way that left exactly nothing to the imagination.

It was shockingly short, the hem brushing mid-thigh only if you stood perfectly still. The neckline was a deep, sweetheart cut that showcased the swell of your breasts, and the back? The back was practically non-existent, a few strings holding it together. You’d paired it with the highest, most precarious strappy heels you owned.

You looked like a confection, a delicious, bite-sized, walking sweet cherry pie.

A slow, determined smile spread across your lips. Let them be “busy.” Let them try to have a meeting, organize a party, do anything at all while you walked in looking like this. You knew their tells—the way Jaeyun’s jaw would tighten, the way Euijoo’s eyes would darken and track your every move like a predator. You were going to remind them exactly what they’d been neglecting. And you were going to make them beg to fix their mistake.

With a final, satisfied nod at your reflection, you grabbed your small clutch. The party was just starting and it was time to make an entrance.

______________

“You’re going to spill your drink.”

“I’m going to light this house on fire.”

The bass from the sound system pulsed through the floorboards of the frat house, a physical thrum in the air. The party was in full, chaotic swing—bodies packed tight, laughter spilling over the music, the sharp tang of cheap beer and sweat cutting through the usual scent of pine cleaner and boyish neglect.

You’d made your entrance. A ripple had gone through the crowd near the door when you walked in, a subtle shift in attention you felt like a physical touch.

You’d caught sight of Jaeyun first, over by the keg, laughing with a couple of his brothers. His eyes had found you, and the laugh died on his lips. His gaze had traveled from your face, down the scandalous plunge of your neckline, over the sinful shortness of your skirt, all the way to your treacherous heels. His expression had shifted from surprise to something hot and intense, his grip tightening on his red plastic cup.

Euijoo had been beside him, leaning against the wall, looking effortlessly cool in a black tee. His reaction was quieter, but no less potent. His eyes had narrowed, his head tilting slightly as he took you in, a slow, unreadable mask settling over his features. You’d given them a small, breezy smile—a mere flick of acknowledgment—and then deliberately turned away, melting into the crowd without a word.

That had been twenty minutes ago. Now, you were on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, the space cleared of furniture.

And you were dancing with Fuma, his hands respectfully placed on your waist as you moved to the beat. You were leaning in close to hear him over the music, laughing at something he said, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. You knew exactly how you looked: the pink fabric clinging to every curve, the dim light catching the sheen of your skin, your head thrown back in a laugh that was just for him.

From across the room, near the archway to the kitchen, two pairs of eyes were burning holes into you.

“You’re going to spill your drink,” Euijoo said flatly, his voice barely audible over the music. He wasn’t looking at Jaeyun; his gaze was locked on the way Fuma’s thumb was stroking a tiny, infuriating circle on the bare skin of your waist.

Jaeyun didn’t even glance at his cup. His knuckles were white around it. “I’m going to light this house on fire.”

Euijoo finally tore his eyes away, cutting a sharp look at his friend. “She didn’t even say hello. Walked in here looking like…..like that,” he hissed, “and didn’t even come over.”

“She saw us,” Jaeyun growled. “She looked right at me and smiled like I was a fucking stranger.”

He took a savage gulp of his beer, his eyes tracking your every move. The way your dress rode up when you swayed, the flash of your thigh, the way the neckline threatened to spill its contents with every bounce. He was so hard it was painful, a relentless ache that had started the second you walked in and was now a throbbing, jealous fury.

It was Fuma. Fuma who had always been their anchor in a storm, older and widely respected in the frat, someone that the both of them leaned on when things got too hard. But right now? All that stuff was going down the drain just at the sight of him pressed so close to you. The memory of Fuma being the one to tell them about you first was also hurting like a bitch.

Euijoo watched as you whispered something in Fuma’s ear, saw the other man’s smile widen, a possessive snarl threatened in Euijoo’s chest. That was his ear to whisper into. His girl to make smile like that. “She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No shit,” Jaeyun spat. “A week of nothing, and now this?” He gestured violently with his cup towards you. “This is a fucking declaration of war.”

They both watched, helpless and seething, as Fuma leaned down to say something else, his lips too close to your hair. Your resulting laugh was bright and clear, a sound that used to be reserved for them in the quiet of a dorm room.

Euijoo’s jaw was clenched so tight it ached. The sight of you in that dress, on another man’s arm, moving with a confidence they’d coaxed out of you themselves…it was the most potent aphrodisiac and the most bitter poison he’d ever tasted. He wanted to tear you away from Fuma, throw you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs. He wanted to ruin you in that dress, mark every inch of skin it revealed so everyone would know exactly who you belonged to.

“She wants a reaction,” Euijoo said, his voice low and deadly calm.

Jaeyun’s smile was all sharp edges. “Oh, she’s gonna get one.”

___________

Any protest you might have mustered died in your throat, swallowed by the heady thrill of their focused, furious energy. They’d descended on you and Fuma like a pair of storms, their polite-but-icy smiles belying the fire in their eyes.

A few terse words to a bewildered Fuma, a “she’s with us” that brooked no argument, and you were extracted from the dance floor and ushered through the chaotic party, up to the familiar sanctuary of their room.

The door clicked shut, sealing you in the sudden, profound quiet. The only sound was the ragged pull of three sets of lungs.

Now, you sat perched on the edge of Euijoo’s neatly made bed, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, doing your best impression of indifference. Your lower lip was pushed out in a defiant pout, your eyes wide and attempting to project wounded innocence, though the fire in them probably betrayed you. Your dress which had felt like armour downstairs, now felt flimsy and exposing under the twin spotlights of their gaze.

Jaeyun and Euijoo stood side-by-side at the foot of the bed, a study in contrasting, coiled tension. Jaeyun’s earlier rage had condensed into a smoldering intensity, his eyes dark and hungry as they raked over you. Euijoo was deceptively still, his expression unreadable, but the air around him crackled with possessive intent.

For a long moment, they just looked at you, their gazes traveling over your defiant posture, the exposed length of your legs, the rise and fall of your chest.

“Well,” Jaeyun drawled, "Look who decided to join the party.” His voice was a low, rough scrape that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “And dressed for the occasion too.”

Euijoo’s lips quirked in a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Such sudden bravery, doll,” he murmured, taking a slow step closer. His gaze lingered on the desperate clutch of your arms over your chest, on the way the dress’s neckline strained with the motion. “Parading yourself downstairs, letting just anyone put their hands on you.” He tsked softly, “Real bold, sweetheart.”

Jaeyun’s smile was wolfish. He took a step closer, his eyes tracing the neckline of your dress. “You knew exactly what you were doing in that dress, didn’t you honey?”

You lifted your chin, refusing to answer, but a flush crept up your neck. Fuck why did they have to look like five course meals?

“Of course she did,” Euijoo answered for you, his tone almost conversational. He took a step to match Jaeyun, closing the distance. “Bet you wanted every man in that room to look at you didn’t you, pretty girl?” His voice dropped, filling with a raw, appreciative hunger. “But you know who you belong to hmm?” The praise, wrapped in sheer possessiveness, made your traitorous body hum.

You swallowed, the defiance in your posture softening into something more pliant under the heat of their combined stares. “I… I was just—”

“Just what, honey?" Jaeyun cut in, his voice deceptively soft. He was close enough now that you could smell the clean scent of his soap and the faint, lingering hint of beer. “Just reminding us what we’ve been missing?” He reached out, a single finger tracing the fluttering pulse at the base of your throat. “Trust me. We didn’t need a reminder. We’ve been thinking about you every damn second.”

Euijoo’s hand joined Jaeyun’s, his fingers gently but firmly prying one of your arms away from your chest. He laced his fingers with yours, pulling your hand down to rest on the rumpled duvet. The implication was clear, and a fresh wave of liquid heat pooled low in your belly. Your pout was gone, replaced by parted lips and breath that was coming a little too fast.

Jaeyun watched the transformation, a dark satisfaction in his eyes. “Since you were so…..creative with your little display tonight,” he said, his thumb stroking your captive hand, “we thought we’d get a little creative too.”

Euijoo’s free hand went to the pocket of his dark jeans. He pulled out a rectangular box, wrapped in simple matte black paper. “A little gift,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “From both of us.”

Your eyes widened, flicking between the box and his face. A gift? Now?

Agonizingly slowly, he unwrapped it, letting the paper fall to the floor. Nestled inside against a bed of black velvet was a vibrator. It was sleek, elegant and a soft, shimmering shade of pink that somehow perfectly matched your dress.

“Saw it last week,” Jaeyun explained, his gaze fixed on your reaction as he began to unbutton his own shirt, his movements lazy and deliberate, “Thought you’d like it, our little slut.”

Euijoo picked it up, his fingers curling around it familiarly. With a soft click, it hummed to life, a low, steady buzz that seemed to vibrate in the very air of the room. He held it up, the pink silicone catching the dim light. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he mused. “Just like you.”

As the persistent hum filled the silence, Jaeyun finally closed the last of the distance. He leaned over you, caging you against the headboard, and captured your mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. It was all tongue and teeth and a week’s worth of pent-up frustration, and you melted into it with a helpless whimper. His hands went to your dress, sliding it down your body.

“Let’s get you out of this, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “We’ve admired it long enough.”

Euijoo had you spread out on his bed in a matter of seconds, the vibrator humming against his palm as he watched you squirm around. God how horny was your brain? To not even have noticed the way they were handling you between them like a toy.

"Look at you," he murmured, running the buzzing tip along your inner thigh, avoiding where you needed it most. "So needy already. And we've barely started."

You whimpered, your hips twitching, trying to chase the sensation. He clicked his tongue, pressing the vibrator flat against your thigh, holding it there until you stilled.

"No." He said, his voice patient but firm. "You don't get to decide when you feel good. I do."

He finally pressed the head of the vibrator against your clit, and you gasped, your back arching off the mattress. The sensation was sharp and immediate, pleasure flooding through you in waves. But just as you felt the familiar tightening in your belly, he pulled it away.

"No!" you whined, the sound pitiful and desperate, “Euijoooo….”

"Shhh," he soothed, trailing the toy down your stomach, over your hip, circling your navel. "You'll get there, doll. But not yet."

He did it again and again and again—pressing the vibrator against your clit, letting the pleasure build until you were teetering on the edge, then pulling it away. Each time, your body would shudder, your breath hitching, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Please," you begged, your voice breaking.

"Please what, doll?" He tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "Please let you cum? But you haven't earned it yet, have you?”

Your hands fisted in the sheets, your hips grinding against nothing. The room was filled with the wet sound of your arousal and the low hum of the vibrator, and you felt completely at his mercy.

After what felt like an eternity of teasing, Euijoo finally set the vibrator aside. He gripped your hips, pulling you toward him until you were sitting up, and then guided you onto his lap at the edge of the bed. His cock was hard beneath you, pressed against your ass, but he made no move to enter you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hands settling on your waist. "Now stay."

You heard movement, and then Jaeyun was there, dropping to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you with that hungry, worshipful expression, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing them apart.

"Jaeyun's going to make you feel good," Euijoo said against your ear, his breath warm. "And this time, you're going to let go. You're going to cum all over his face. Understand?" You nodded, your throat (and pussy) tight.

Jaeyun leaned in, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, then the other. His tongue traced a slow path upward, and when he finally reached your folds, you cried out, your hips bucking forward. He didn't waste time—his tongue lapped at you, broad and flat, then focused on your clit, flicking and circling with practiced precision.

"Oh, god…." you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the strands, “Jaeyun! Fuck ohhhh…” Fuck it was like he’d mastered the art of female oral pleasure for centuries—the way he was eating you like a starved god.

Behind you, Euijoo’s hands roamed your body, pinching your nipples, sliding down your stomach, gripping your hips to hold you steady. "That's it, doll. Let him eat you—bet you taste soooo good for him, don't you?"

Jaeyun moaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your core. He devoured you, his tongue sliding inside you, then back to your clit, alternating between sucking and licking until you were a trembling mess.

The pleasure built faster this time, without the torturous pauses, but it was overwhelming, too much and not enough. You felt the pressure mounting, coiling tight in your lower belly, and you knew this time it would be different.

"Ju…" you sobbed, "Ju, I'm—I'm going to—"

"Let go," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Cum for him, doll. Let it all go."

And you did. Your orgasm crashed through you like a wave, your body arching, a guttural cry tearing from your throat. But it didn't stop—it kept building, pushing past the peak, and you felt the release of something more, a hot gush of liquid that spilled from you as you shuddered and moaned.

Jaeyun didn't pull away. He drank it all, his tongue working through your climax, lapping at you as you squirted over his chin, his lips, his tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he didn't stop, coaxing every last drop from you until you were limp, gasping, your body trembling uncontrollably.

Euijoo’s arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest, pressing kisses to your shoulder. "Such a good girl," he whispered. "You did so well."

Jaeyun finally pulled back, his face glistening, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but his eyes never left yours.

“So fucking sweet, pretty girl." He said, his voice husky, “Sweet like honey, yeah?”

You were too spent to respond, your head falling back against Euijoo’s shoulder, your body humming with aftershocks. They held you between them, warm and possessive, and for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the soft hum of the vibrator Euijoo had discarded on the bed.

You heard the rustle of fabric, then felt his hands on your ass cheeks, spreading them wide, cool air kissing your exposed holes.

“Round two, pretty girl?”

The words were fleeting in your ears, neither of them had the patience to wait for your answer. You asked yourself that question again: just how orgasm-drunk were you that you didn’t even protest the change in position? It was a matter of minutes before you found yourself in the position you were in.

Did you really give a fuck? Nope—all you wanted was for your wet little pussy to be filled by her usual favourites.

The bed creaked beneath you as Euijoo positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips while you hovered over Jaeyun’s cock. Your thighs trembled, slick and ready, as Jaeyun’s hands found your waist, guiding you down.

"That's it, honey," Jaeyun breathed, his eyes locked on yours as you sank onto him, inch by inch. "Taking me so well."

A choked gasp escaped your lips as he filled you completely, the sensation spreading through your core, stretching you in a way that made your vision blur. Before you could adjust, Euijoo’s hands spread your cheeks, and you felt the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your ass.

"You think you can take us both, doll?" His voice was low, dripping with challenge. "Or are you going to break on us?" You nodded, words failing you, your fingers digging into Jaeyun’s shoulders for support.

"Use your words," Euijoo said, slapping your ass hard enough to make you jolt. "I want to hear you say it."

"Yes," you gasped, your voice cracking. "Please, I can—I can take it."

Euijoo pushed in slowly, the pressure building until it became a dull, overwhelming ache, then a sharp fullness that made you cry out. Your body clenched around both of them, the dual intrusion too much and exactly what you needed.

"Fuckkkkk" Jaeyun groaned beneath you, his head falling back. "She's so fucking—hah—tight. Squeezing me like she's trying to milk me dry, yeah?”

"Because she's such a desperate little slut," Euijoo said, his voice softening into something almost affectionate, wildly in contrast to his words. "Aren't you, honey? Can't get enough of us filling you up."

You whimpered, your hips starting to move on instinct, rocking back against Euijoo while grinding down on Jaeyun. The rhythm came naturally, the three of you finding a pace that had your breath hitching and your body shaking.

Euijoo’s thrusts were so damn deep, each one hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. Jaeyun met your movements from below, his hands gripping your waist, his hips snapping up to meet yours. They set a punishing rhythm, alternating their thrusts so that one was always filling you while the other pulled back, a mean oscillation.

"Look at her…." Euijoo said, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. "Riding you like a good girl, taking my cock in her ass like she was made for it."

"Made for us," Jaeyun corrected, his voice strained, his eyes burning into yours. "Perfect little cocksleeve for both of us."

The pleasure built, coiling low in your belly, your moans turning into broken sobs as they fucked you from both ends. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation overwhelming, consuming.

"Please," you begged, not knowing what you were asking for. "Please, I'm—I'm going to—"

"Not yet," Euijoo said, slowing his thrusts, denying you the friction you craved. "You don't cum until we say you can."

Jaeyun followed his lead, stilling beneath you, leaving you suspended on the edge. A frustrated whine tore from your throat, your hips grinding uselessly against them.

"Please," you tried again, tears pricking at your eyes. "Please, I need—"

"I know what you need, doll." Euijoo’s voice was softer now, almost gentle. "You need to be good for us first. Can you do that? Be our good girl?" You nodded frantically, desperation clawing at your chest.

"Then cum for us," Jaeyun said, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. "Let go, honey. Let us feel you."

They started moving again, faster now, harder, driving into you with a relentless pace that had you seeing stars. The pleasure hit you like a wave, crashing over you as your first orgasm tore through your body. You cried out, your back arching, your walls clenching around them.

"Fuck, yes….." Euijoo groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "That's it pretty girl, oh fuckkk squeezing me so good fuck…”

But they didn't stop. They kept fucking you through your climax, the overstimulation pushing you higher, building toward something even more intense.

"One more," Jaeyun commanded, his voice rough, breathless. "Give us one more, baby. I know you can."

"Please nghhh—I can’t " you sobbed, your body trembling, every nerve on fire. "I can't—"

"You can.” Euijoo said, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit. "And you will."

He pressed down, circling the sensitive nub as they fucked you, and the second orgasm hit you before you could brace yourself. It ripped through you, harder and deeper than the first, your vision going white as you screamed, your body convulsing around them.

"Fuck—" Jaeyun's voice cracked as he came, his hips bucking, his cum flooding you. Euijoo followed a moment later, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he spilled inside your ass, his grip on your hips bruising.

The three of you collapsed together, tangled and breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and cum. Euijoo pulled out slowly, kissing your shoulder, while Jaeyun traced lazy patterns on your thighs.

"So fucking perfect," Jaeyun murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

"You did so well, doll." Euijoo added, his hand carding through your hair.

You couldn't respond, your body humming with aftershocks, your mind blissfully blank. They held you between them, warm and possessive, and for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the steady beat of their hearts against your skin.

Somewhere between the border of sleep (“Is she sleeping?” “Should we change her clothes or..?”), you had a fleeting thought.

You were happy. Really happy.

Because somewhere along the way, the fear disappeared entirely—you stopped overthinking every text before sending it, stopped panicking when they touched your shoulder casually or leaned too close over your notes, stopped feeling like the quiet girl hidden in the second row of lectures. Somehow, without you noticing, the lonely little world you’d built around yourself had cracked open.

And standing in the middle of it were two boys who brought you coffee, listened to your rambling biology explanations, made you laugh when you forgot how, and looked at you like you were someone worth knowing. And fucked you crazy stupid too of course.

The months you thought would destroy you had ended up changing your life instead.

Funny how that worked.

Cause fuck were you into it.

fin.

A/N: this is one of those fics where i genuinely felt myself lock in HARD and lowkey felt much melancholy when i finished it like this fic is my child ykwim. Never in my life did i think I'd ever write four smut scenes in one singular fic but hey my biases made me do it yay. Shoutout to Jaeyun and Euijoo edits for getting me through the hell of writing threesomes i will now go be their fucktoy byeee

divider by @honeyluvsw

@eu1joo @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added! @berrybittynetwork my beloveds

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