hello!! Can i request for a 14th member svt au (each member reactions if possible!) where the 14th member (u) got so much hate point she left the group and became a solo artist, she won her award and did a speech and then she saw each svt’s members reactions!

Title: Thirteen Cheers for Fourteen

Masterlist | Part 2

The apartment was suffocatingly silent, save for the faint drip of a leaking faucet in the kitchen. Y/N sat on the cold hardwood floor, her back pressed against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were swollen, the skin around them raw from weeks—maybe months—of crying. She couldn’t tell anymore. Time had blurred into an endless haze of pain. A half-empty water bottle sat beside her, untouched for hours. She hadn’t eaten today. Or yesterday. She didn’t care.

The hate had been there since the beginning. Nine years ago, when Seventeen debuted with her as the only girl, the Korean fans had erupted. “She’s a disgrace.” “A spoiled princess who bought her way in.” “Seventeen doesn’t need her.” She’d been fourteen then, a wide-eyed maknae with dreams bigger than the world. She’d fought tooth and nail to prove herself—begged her father, PLEDIS’s founder, to judge her fairly, trained until her body gave out, poured her soul into every performance. But none of it mattered. To them, she was nothing but a stain.

Now, at twenty-three, the hate had metastasized. Flower wreaths piled up outside HYBE, their ribbons screaming, “Leave Seventeen, Y/N. You’re a curse.” Online, the threats were worse—boycotts, petitions, vile words she couldn’t unsee. They called her names that cut deeper than knives, accused her of things that made her stomach churn. The company had forced her into a hiatus, a “break” to “think things over.” But all it did was leave her alone with her thoughts—and they were merciless.

The boys had tried. God, they’d tried. Seungcheol had held her when she’d broken down after a concert, whispering, “You’re enough, Y/N. You’ve always been enough.” Vernon had sat with her in silence, his presence a quiet anchor. Dino, her fellow maknae, had sobbed into her shoulder, begging, “Don’t let them win, Y/N. Please.” But she’d pushed them away. “I’m fine,” she’d lied, her voice hollow. “I just need space.” They’d stopped coming after she’d screamed at Minghao to leave her alone, her words a jagged sob: “Stop pretending I’m worth saving!”

She wasn’t. Not anymore.

Her phone buzzed on the floor, its screen lighting up with a new message. She didn’t look. It was probably Joshua again, or maybe Wonwoo—soft words she didn’t deserve. She’d shut them all out, locked the door, turned off the lights. Her family had called too, her mother’s voice trembling through the line: “Come home, Y/N. Let us help you.” But she’d hung up, muttering, “I’m okay,” before curling into herself and crying until her throat burned.

She wasn’t okay. She was drowning.

The silence pressed in, heavy and unbearable. Her eyes drifted to a framed photo on the shelf—Seventeen’s first win, all fourteen of them beaming, her tiny figure squeezed between Jun and Hoshi. She’d been so happy then, so naive. Now, that memory felt like a lie. A sob clawed its way up her chest, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle it. But it broke free, loud and ragged, echoing in the empty room.

“Why me?” she whispered to no one, her voice cracking. “I gave everything… everything… and it’s still not enough.”

Her gaze fell to her phone again. Against her better judgment, she reached for it, hands trembling. The lock screen showed a flood of unread messages—“Y/N, please talk to us.” “We miss you.” “You’re our maknae, don’t forget that.” She swiped them away, her breath hitching. She didn’t want their kindness. She didn’t deserve it.

Instead, she opened Twitter. Her name was trending again, a festering wound laid bare for the world to see. She scrolled, each comment a fresh stab to her heart.

“Y/N’s the reason Seventeen’s losing fans. She’s a talentless leech.”

“Imagine training for years just to be a slut who rides her daddy’s coattails. Leave already.”

“Those wreaths aren’t enough. She should just disappear for good.”

“Seventeen was perfect without her. She’s a parasite ruining thirteen good men.”

“No one wants you, Y/N. Do us all a favor and quit.”

Her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face, hot and unrelenting. She clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles white, her sobs growing louder. “I tried,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “I tried so hard… why do you hate me?”

Another comment loaded: “She’s probably crying right now, playing the victim. Pathetic.”

The phone slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor. She buried her face in her knees, her body shaking with the force of her cries. “I’m not pathetic,” she whimpered, but the words felt empty. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was nothing—a burden, a mistake, a girl who’d dared to dream and paid the price.

She didn’t hear the rain anymore, didn’t feel the cold seeping into her bones. All she felt was the weight of their words, crushing her until there was nothing left. She’d fought for years, but now… now she was tired. So tired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the darkness, to the boys, to herself, to the dream she’d once held so tight. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The phone screen glowed beside her, still open to the endless stream of hate, each word a nail in the coffin of the girl she used to be.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The fluorescent lights of the PLEDIS office buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on Y/N’s pale face. She sat across from her father, the man who’d built this empire, her hands trembling as she clutched a pen. The contract termination papers lay between them, a stark white wound on the polished desk. Her manager, Minseo, stood by the window, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“I’m leaving,” Y/N said, her voice flat, drained of the fire it once held. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Her father’s jaw tightened, his eyes searching her face—those same eyes that had once sparkled with pride when she debuted. Now, they were clouded with something heavier: guilt, maybe, or regret. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” she cut him off, her tone sharp but brittle, like glass about to shatter. “I’m not just losing the boys, Dad. I’m losing me. Every day, I wake up and I don’t know who I am anymore. My name—it’s just… it’s just Seventeen’s punching bag. I can’t breathe.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped, voice low and pleading. “We can fight this. We’ll release a statement, hire more security, sue the worst of them—”

“No!” Her shout echoed in the small room, startling her father. Y/N’s chest heaved, tears brimming but refusing to fall. “It won’t stop. It’s been nine years, Dad. Nine years of wreaths, of threats, of people telling me I’m a parasite. I’m done dragging them down. I’m done doubting myself because of it.”

Her father stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “Y/N, the boys—they’d want to know. They’d fight for you.”

Y/N shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s why you can’t tell them. They’d stop me. Seungcheol would lock me in a room until I changed my mind. Jeonghan would talk me to death. Seokmin—he’d cry until I couldn’t stand it. I know them too well.” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But I can’t hold on anymore. I’m choosing them… and I’m choosing me.”

Her father’s hands trembled as he slid the papers closer. “Where will you go?”

“Away,” she said simply, signing her name with a shaky hand. “Mom think abroad is best. I need… I need to disappear for a while. To think. To stop drowning.”

Her father’s eyes softened, but she nodded. “We’ll keep it quiet. No leaks to the members. But Y/N… are you sure?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She pushed the signed papers back, stood, and walked out without looking back. The door clicked shut behind her, a final, hollow sound.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks later, Incheon International Airport was a blur of noise and motion, but Y/N moved through it like a ghost. Her hoodie was pulled low over her face, a baseball cap shielding her eyes. A single suitcase trailed behind her—everything she’d chosen to take from a life she was leaving behind. Her parents had arranged it all: a flight to somewhere far, somewhere quiet, somewhere she could vanish. They’d promised to handle the boys after the announcement, to soften the blow. But Y/N knew there’d be no softening this.

She hadn’t said goodbye. Her phone, now off and buried in her bag, had been silent for days—no replies to the boys’ texts, no answers to their calls. She’d stopped opening her door when they knocked, their voices muffled through the wood: “Y/N, please, just talk to us.” She’d sat against it once, listening to Mingyu beg, his voice cracking, until he gave up and left. It had broken her heart all over again, but she couldn’t face them. Not when she’d already decided.

The boarding call crackled over the speakers, and she handed her ticket to the agent with numb fingers. As she stepped onto the plane, the weight of it hit her—she was leaving them. Her brothers. Her family. The only people who’d ever truly seen her. A sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, sinking into her seat by the window. The runway blurred outside as the plane taxied, and she pressed her forehead to the glass, whispering, “I’m sorry,” to no one but herself.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Seventeen practice room was alive with its usual chaos—Hoshi sprawled on the floor, panting after a run-through; Vernon scrolling through his phone; Seungkwan bickering with DK over a water bottle. It was break time, a rare moment of calm amidst their grueling schedule. The mirrors reflected thirteen tired but familiar faces, a unit unbroken—until now.

Seungcheol’s phone buzzed on the bench, and he glanced at it, frowning. “What the hell…?” His voice trailed off, and the room stilled as his expression darkened.

“What’s up, hyung?” Dino asked, sitting up from where he’d been stretching.

Seungcheol didn’t answer. He held up his phone, the screen displaying a news alert from HYBE: “Official Statement: Y/N to Depart SEVENTEEN Effective Immediately.”

The air sucked out of the room. Vernon dropped his phone, the clatter deafening in the silence. “What?” he breathed, scrambling to his feet.

“No way,” Mingyu said, voice shaking as he grabbed Seungcheol’s phone. “This is fake. It’s gotta be fake.”

Jeonghan snatched it from him, his eyes scanning the words, growing wider with every line. “Due to personal reasons… mutual agreement… effective immediately…” His voice faltered, and he looked up, pale. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Hoshi shot up, his laugh disbelieving. “She can’t be gone. She’s on hiatus, not—she wouldn’t just leave us!”

Seungkwan’s hands shook as he pulled out his own phone, opening the statement. “It’s real,” he whispered, tears already welling up. “It’s on the official site. She… she left.”

The door burst open, and their manager, Joonho, stepped in, his face grim. The boys turned to him, a chorus of desperate voices erupting.

“Is it true?” Joshua demanded, his usual calm shattered. “Did she leave?”

Joonho nodded slowly, avoiding their eyes. “It’s true. She made the decision weeks ago. Signed the papers and everything.”

“Weeks?!” Wonwoo’s voice cracked, raw and furious. “And you didn’t tell us? She didn’t tell us?”

“She asked us not to,” Joonho said, his tone heavy. “She didn’t want you to know until it was done. Said you’d stop her.”

“Of course we’d stop her!” Seungcheol roared, slamming his fist against the wall. The sound reverberated, and the others flinched. “She’s our maknae! She’s family! You don’t just—how could you let her do this?”

“She was breaking, Cheol,” Joonho said quietly. “She didn’t want you to see her like that.”

DK sank to the floor, hands in his hair. “We could’ve helped her. We were helping her. Why didn’t she trust us?”

“She didn’t want to burden you,” Joonho replied, but the words only fueled their anguish.

“Burden us?” Mingyu’s voice broke into a sob. “She was never a burden! She was ours—our Y/N!”

Vernon paced, tears streaming down his face. “We should’ve known. We should’ve gone to her more, forced her to talk—”

“We tried!” Jun snapped, his voice hoarse. “She wouldn’t let us in! She kept saying she was fine, and now she’s just… gone?”

Seungkwan dialed her number, hands trembling. It didn’t ring—just dead silence. “Her phone’s off,” he choked out, dropping it. “She’s really gone.”

“Let’s go to her place,” Dino said suddenly, standing. “She’s gotta be there. She wouldn’t leave without saying anything.”

They piled into vans, a frantic, tear-streaked mess, ignoring Joonho’s protests. The drive to her apartment was suffocating, the silence broken only by muffled sobs and the occasional, “She wouldn’t do this.” But when they arrived, the door was locked, the lights off. Mingyu pounded on it anyway, shouting, “Y/N! Open the door! Please!”

No answer. A neighbor poked her head out, frowning. “She’s not there. Moved out days ago.”

“Days?” Jeonghan echoed, his voice hollow. “She’s been gone for days, and we didn’t know?”

They drove to her parents’ house next, a last desperate hope. Her mother answered, her face etched with sorrow. “She’s not here,” she said softly, tears in her eyes. “She left the country. She needed to get away.”

“Away?” Seungcheol’s voice was barely audible, broken. “She left us?”

“She didn’t want to hurt you,” her mother whispered. “She thought this was the only way. She’ll come back when she’s ready… when she’s okay.”

“When she’s okay?” Hoshi laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “She left us, and we didn’t even get to say goodbye! How are we supposed to be okay?”

Her mother flinched, but she had no answer. The boys stood there, thirteen shattered pieces of a whole that no longer existed.

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Joshua murmured, staring at the ground as tears mixed with the rain on his face. “Nine years… and she’s just gone.”

Seungkwan sank to his knees on the wet pavement, sobbing. “We were supposed to be fourteen forever.”

But they weren’t. Y/N was gone, and the silence she left behind was louder than any hate she’d ever faced.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The air in London had been crisp and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the humid chaos of Seoul. For nearly a year, Y/N had lived there, tucked away in a small flat with a view of the Thames. No one knew where she was except her parents—not the boys, not the company, not the fans who’d once hounded her every move. Her social media accounts sat dormant, frozen in time since that last post: a blurry photo of her hand holding a coffee cup, captioned “Taking a breath.” She hadn’t touched her phone for anything beyond calls to her family. The hate comments, the wreaths, the venom—they were a distant memory she refused to revisit.

She’d seen the boys once, though—on a grainy livestream of an award show, months after she’d left. Seventeen had won Album of the Year, and Seungcheol had taken the mic, his voice steady but thick with something unspoken. “We didn’t fall because of anyone,” he’d said, eyes glistening. “We’re still standing because of love—because of family. We miss… that chaos, you know? And we’re not mad. Never will be.” Jeonghan had added, softer, “We hope you’re smiling, wherever you are.” They hadn’t said her name, but she’d known. It was for her. Her chest had tightened, tears spilling silently down her cheeks as she’d turned off the screen. But she didn’t call. She didn’t text. She just sat there, alone, letting the silence swallow her.

Now, after eleven months abroad, she could breathe again. The weight that had crushed her in Korea had lifted, bit by bit. She could smile—not the forced grins of survival, but the real ones, the ones that crinkled her eyes like they used to. She’d called her father last week, her voice steady for the first time in years. “I’m ready to come back,” she’d said. “But not to Seventeen. To me. I want to try… solo.”

He’d paused, then sighed—a sound of relief, not disappointment. “Whatever you need, Y/N. We’ll make it happen.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

She’d been back in Korea for three months now, living in a quiet apartment on the outskirts of Seoul. The HYBE building hummed with activity, but she rarely crossed paths with anyone she knew. Seventeen was on their world tour, their schedules a whirlwind of planes and stages halfway across the globe. She’d heard their new album through the walls of a practice room once—Hoshi’s laughter in the background of a track, Mingyu’s warm vocals weaving through the melody. It had stopped her cold, her hand trembling on the doorknob. But she’d walked away.

Her days were full now. She spent hours in the recording booth, her voice finding its footing again—stronger, clearer, hers. The studio smelled of coffee and warm electronics, a sanctuary where she could be Y/N, not “the founder’s daughter” or “Seventeen’s mistake.” She practiced choreography until her legs shook, the mirrors reflecting a woman reclaiming herself. The music video shoot had been grueling—twelve hours under blinding lights, her hair streaked with silver dye, her eyes fierce in a way they hadn’t been before. The photoshoot proofs sat on her desk now: Y/N in a leather jacket, staring down the lens, unapologetic. She wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was building something new.

“I’m not here because of anyone else,” she’d told her producer, a steely edge to her voice as they reviewed tracks. “I’m here because I can do this. I will do this.”

He’d nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I believe you.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The tour bus rumbled through a foreign city—Chicago, maybe, or Toronto; the boys had lost track. The air inside was thick with exhaustion, the kind that settled into your bones after months on the road. Seventeen sprawled across the seats, a tangle of limbs and quiet murmurs. A year ago, this bus would’ve been louder—Y/N’s voice cutting through the chaos, teasing DK about his snoring or roping Vernon into a prank on Woozi. Now, it was just thirteen.

Seungcheol stared out the window, his reflection pale against the night. “It’s almost a year,” he said suddenly, his voice low, almost lost in the hum of the engine.

The others looked up, the weight of his words sinking in. Mingyu rubbed his eyes, his usual brightness dimmed. “Yeah. Anniversary’s next month. Supposed to be ten years with her.”

“Ten years,” Jeonghan echoed, leaning his head back against the seat. His fingers toyed with a bracelet Y/N had made him once—beads spelling out “Hannie” in her messy handwriting. “Feels wrong without her.”

Hoshi shifted, pulling his knees up. “I keep thinking she’ll just… show up. Like, burst through the door with that stupid grin, saying, ‘Miss me?’” He laughed, but it broke into a shaky breath. “She doesn’t even know how much we miss her.”

“She knows,” Joshua said quietly, his voice steady but his eyes distant. “She saw that speech. She’s gotta know.”

“Then why hasn’t she called?” Dino asked, his voice small, almost childlike. He’d been the closest to her age, her partner in maknae mischief. “Not once. Not a text. Nothing.”

Minghao sighed, pushing his cap down over his eyes. “Because she’s healing. We can’t force her back.”

“But we’re her family,” Seungkwan said, his voice cracking. He clutched a photo on his phone—a blurry shot of Y/N laughing at him during a concert, her hair a mess. “She’s our only sister. Our maknae. Even if she’s not here, she always will be.”

Vernon nodded, his jaw tight. “I get why she left. I do. That hate… it was eating her alive. But it still hurts, you know? Like there’s this hole now.”

DK wiped at his eyes, trying to smile. “I miss her complaining. She’d whine about my singing being too loud, then hug me five seconds later. I’d take all her pranks again if it meant she’d just… talk to us.”

Seungcheol turned from the window, his expression hard but his eyes soft with unshed tears. “We can’t change it. It’s done. She’s gone, and we’ve gotta live with that. But if she ever comes back—solo, whatever—I’ll be the first in line to support her. Always.”

They all murmured agreement, a quiet pact forged in the ache of her absence. They’d accepted it, as much as they could—understood the hell she’d endured, the choice she’d made. But acceptance didn’t fill the void. They missed her chaos, her laugh, the way she’d flop onto the couch after practice and demand they order food. They missed her. And they didn’t know if they’d ever get her back.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N stood in the recording booth, headphones snug over her ears, the mic a lifeline. The track played—a slow, haunting ballad she’d written herself, every note dripping with the pain she’d carried and the strength she’d found. She closed her eyes, letting her voice spill out, raw and unbroken.

Somewhere across the world, Seventeen took the stage, thirteen voices rising together, a harmony that still felt incomplete. They didn’t know she was back. She didn’t know they still left a space for her in their hearts. And for now, the silence between them stretched on—a fragile thread, waiting to snap or mend.

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an: Hi! Sorry this was late, but I hope you like it, anon, and I hope I got what you requested, hehehe🫶

idk if this is allowed but,

threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu

⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐

⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.

⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au

⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”

Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”

“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”

You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.

Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.

This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.

You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.

“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”

Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.

You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.

“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”

You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.

Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.

Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”

Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”

You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.

“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.

“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”

Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”

“Two people, still very little.” he counters.

Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.

“Jihyo, Miyeon—”

“I fucked Miyeon.”

“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”

He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.

“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.

“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.

“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.

You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.

“Just beer.” You reply.

He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”

He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.

“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.

“Aye aye captain.”

He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”

You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”

Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.

You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”

“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.

Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.

…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.

The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.

You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.

“I’m fucking her ass here.”

Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.

“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.

Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.

You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”

You shake your head, dismissing him.

Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.

“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.

“But not a liar.”

“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”

“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.

Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”

God, this again!

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”

“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.

“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”

“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”

“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”

Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”

“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.

“Had someone nut in your ass?”

You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”

You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.

“Have you done it without a condom?”

You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.

“Is this an interrogation?”

Yeonjun shrugs.

“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.

Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.

Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.

“Gotten fingered?”

“Well no shit.”

Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”

“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.

Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”

“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”

“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”

Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”

“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”

“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”

Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.

You shudder remembering the scene.

“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”

You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”

“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”

Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.

You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”

Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.

“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.

You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.

“But I want to.”

…What.

That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.

Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-

“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.

He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”

You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.

He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”

Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.

The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”

You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.

But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”

You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”

Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”

He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”

Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.

But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”

At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.

Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.

And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.

That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.

Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.

Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”

And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”

Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”

The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.

Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”

You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”

This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.

Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”

“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”

You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?

Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”

“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.

Fuck it.

You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.

Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”

You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.

The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”

Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.

“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.

You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”

You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.

"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.

"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.

Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"

You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.

Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.

You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.

“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.

Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”

“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.

His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.

Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.

You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod, humming.

“Words princess.”

“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”

He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.

You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.

And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.

“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”

You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.

“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.

You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.

Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.

“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”

Can you even take that in your mouth?

He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.

“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.

You think you might just faint.

“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.

But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.

You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.

“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”

Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”

You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.

It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.

He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.

Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.

“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”

You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.

To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.