Koo stood in front of her mirror, biting her lip as she adjusted the straps of her dress. It was hardly decent — a thin slip of fabric, clinging tight to her tits and hugging her ass, stopping just under her cheeks. The neckline plunged deep, her cleavage pushed together until it looked like her breasts might spill out if she bent too far forward.

It’s just a neighbourly visit, she told herself, slipping on a pair of heels that clicked against the floor. I’m just being polite.

But the heat between her thighs said otherwise.

Jiwon was in his study, dozing in front of his computer. He barely noticed her as she passed. That gave her the excuse she needed. She opened the front door and crossed the small lawn, her hips swaying, the afternoon sun licking across her pale skin.

The new neighbours’ house was busy with boxes and half-open doors. She smoothed her dress over her hips, steadied her fake good-wife smile, and rang the bell.

The door opened.

It was the tall one — broad shoulders filling the frame, a bead of sweat running down his temple. His eyes dropped instantly, shamelessly, to her tits.

“Uh—hi,” he said, voice deep, rough.

Koo tilted her head sweetly, pretending she hadn’t noticed his stare. “Hello. I’m Jungkook. I live next door with my husband. Just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood.”

His gaze dragged slowly up her body, lingering on her legs, then her chest again. By the time he reached her lips, he was smirking. “Taehyung,” he said finally, sticking out his hand.

She placed her hand in his, soft and delicate against his rough palm. He held it a beat too long, thumb grazing her skin, before another voice called out.

“Who’s at the door, Tae?”

The big one appeared — the thick, muscular one. Shirtless again, sweat dripping down his chest. He stopped when he saw her, eyes darkening instantly, sweeping over her like she was dessert laid out on a table.

“This is our neighbour,” Taehyung said lazily, still holding her hand.

“Namjoon,” the shirtless one said, stepping closer, towering over her. He didn’t offer his hand. He just looked at her — at her tits pressing against the fabric, at her thighs peeking under the short hem. His gaze was heavy, hungry, and she felt her nipples harden under his stare.

And then the third appeared.

Leaner, paler, with that lazy smirk and hooded eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Yoongi,” he said simply, his voice smooth, like he already knew all her secrets.

Koo’s smile wavered. She felt naked under all three sets of eyes. Her dress suddenly seemed thinner, shorter, more sinful. She tugged the hem down nervously, though it barely covered her thighs.

“It’s, um… nice to meet you all,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

“Nice dress,” Yoongi murmured, smirking when her cheeks flushed.

“Thanks,” she whispered, though she knew he wasn’t complimenting her style. He was telling her he saw exactly what she was doing — dressing up, showing off, coming to them like a ripe fruit begging to be bitten.

They didn’t touch her. They didn’t say anything more. But the way they looked at her — Taehyung’s smirk, Namjoon’s heavy stare, Yoongi’s knowing eyes — made her thighs press together, her pussy aching.

“Well,” she managed, forcing a bright smile, “if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My husband and I would be happy to help.”

Taehyung’s gaze flicked down to her ass as she turned. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

She felt their eyes burn into her back all the way across the lawn. When she slipped inside her house, closing the door with shaky hands, she leaned against it, heart racing.

Her robe was damp between her thighs.

They knew.

They all knew.

And they hadn’t even touched her yet.