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praeluxius · 3 months

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coup de théâtre - IVE Jang Wonyoung (Ft. An Yujin, Naoi Rei, Kim Gaeul)

Part 2 of folie à deux.

IVE Jang Wonyoung x Male reader smut.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 //

Masterlist word count: 11,849

coup de théâtre - a sudden and surprising event

"You're just not getting it." Wonyoung stresses as her hands settle on Rei's hips. "If we get too close here, it's going to ruin everything."

"So you don't want me right here?" Rei's shoulders slouch and she pouts in confusion.

"Watch. Yujin, you know what you’re doing." Wonyoung signals the other girl over. "Gaeul, ready?"

She gives a confident nod and readies her posture.

"Alright, music, cue.” That is your signal. See, that's the only reason you're here. Wonyoung insisted you help them out during their dance practice. With the speaker at your feet, you slouch against the mirrored back wall. You can see yourself, shorts and tee loosely hung from your body, in the mirror across the room. Between you and it, the four girls are ready to spring to life. They swear they'll make it big, maybe they will, but they're not there yet.

You hit play on your phone. “Five, six, seven, eight,” and three of the girls dance. Wonyoung watches as the girls inevitably get in each other's way. Rei goes to cross between Gaeul and Yujin and the gap is so small that she almost takes a fist to the face. The mistake brings them to a halt.

"See? We need better spacing." Wonyoung demands the point again and stands between the three, explaining how things will have to line up. The four of them flail arms, pointing at their feet, imitating footwork and readjusting as needed.

You'd argue she isn't even the best dancer among them, not that there's much disparity between them. But she's the one who insists they have to be critical or they will never get better. The girls take this school dance club more seriously than anything else in this place. They start from the top again with another countdown and another play from you. It doesn't take long for everyone to get back into the motion. Gaeul turns, Yujin shifts, and Rei steps. This time it all goes buttery smooth.

Hips sway and asses shake. Bodies glimmer with sweat under the studio lights. All their slender figures move with equal parts energy and sensuality. The original choreographer wouldn’t say it, but to say it's seductive wouldn't be wholly incorrect. From the powerful steps to the flowing graceful movements, the whole thing is a pleasure to watch. Every little flourish is alluring and equally mesmerising.

This continues, round and round, over and over and over. Slowly, they iron the kinks. Work out the errors. Find the minor adjustments. All until they're dancing with all the confidence they need to own the stage when the time comes.

The sweat on their bodies soaks in to the tops of their practice outfits. Each movement has their loose strands of hair cling to their faces, necks, shoulders. They're drenched, exhausted, but they keep pushing through the final attempt. The music fades out; they finish. Rei throws herself on the floor. Laying, legs extended and arms resting beside her, she stares at the ceiling for a while with a soft groan.

The other three head toward you (more accurately; their drinks). You lift yourself up onto the bench, taking a seat at the end and handing the bottles to the girls. Wonyoung sits right beside you and leans back against the wall mirror.

“Good job. That looked great."

"Yeah." Wonyoung barely manages that as her heavy, laboured breath requires most of her focus. She grasps her bottle with trembling fingers.

"That was good," Gaeul confirms as she takes a seat next to Wonyoung.

After handing a bottle to Rei, Yujin stands right in front of you. Drink in one hand and the other resting on her hip, at the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. "What about me? Did I look good? I think I nailed it." Yujin breathes as the words escape her lips. Her heavy lashes lower and gaze at you. A bright smile spread across her pink-tinged, sweat-slicked cheeks.

You reply honestly. "Yeah, you did. Perfect."

Rei lets out a couple of forced coughs to mockingly comment between them; get a room.

Wonyoung snickers at Rei's joke. Her breathing steady and her gaze on Yujin. "Looks like she wants to, don't you, Yujin?"

"You think?" Rei chimes in again.

“I think so," Wonyoung chuckles and swipes a strand of her hair behind her ear. "The changing room is free, but I can't promise I won't walk in."

It's like she insists on making it as awkward as possible. But there's no way she can know about you and Yujin. No. That's impossible. This must just be a coincidence—a light-hearted tease.

"So when's next practice?" Gaeul interrupts, saving you both your blushes. "I can't do any weekend practices, I'm going on a trip."

"Oh right, the fiancé," Wonyoung begins, and you brace yourself, because you know the kinds of things she usually says here. "why him? Isn't he kind of… beneath you?"

Wonyoung is every bit as blunt and harsh as usual. There's no ambiguity there—no double-meaning or clever innuendo. It's a comment born out of her own distorted view that everyone is beneath her.

Yujin turns round, glaring with her brows raised and silently mouths the words: 'are you serious?'

"I like him," Gaeul answers simply. You'd never met her fiancé but if there's one thing you'd learned about Gaeul in your limited interactions is that she didn't act on whims. If she said yes, it's because she really likes him.

"It's his huge cock, right?" Wonyoung is as brash as ever and Yujin almost chokes on her sip of water. Rei’s head snaps up, and she's staring from her laying position. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s caught in your throat.

"Maybe," Gaeul cuts through the awkwardness. Everyone pauses. The attention in the room rests on Gaeul, each of them not so subtlely urging her to keep talking. Yujin takes a seat on the ground at your feet, cross-legged, and ready for a story.

Gaeul has one hand scratching at her arm and the other gripping at the bottle in her lap. She hesitates a moment. Maybe she’s busy wondering if she should (or if she dare) say any more. And then she erupts in to a story that pulls no punches. "This one time, me and him got into it pretty heavy and I was deep-throating his—sorry, too graphic?"

There's a collective shake of heads. Even Rei has sat up to listen intently now. Gaeul gives the faintest smile in recognition and she continues.

"So there we were. I'm lying down and deep-throating his cock. I've got him all the way in my throat, and there was still more to go. I just couldn't. As much as I wanted his whole cock in me, it just wouldn't go." Gaeul gives a pout, lamenting her failure. "I tried so hard, I felt like I couldn't do it. Couldn't breathe. I didn't know how, not with that length buried in me. I felt so small, and... I loved it."

Her face is turning a deep shade of vermilion as she relives the memory. Still, her hand squeezes tight around her water bottle and all the others wait for Gaeul to continue. Yujin is leaning forward, hands on her knees, eyes wide and listening closely. Wonyoung looks rather relaxed on her stretch of wall with her head laid against the cool surface. The sweat from her cheeks and brow slowly trickling down. But she's rapt, fixated, awaiting the story.

"The tip hit the back of my throat. I just didn't want it to stop."

As she describes it, her candid description, with no holds barred, the vision her story creates does something to you. Your mind races at the thought that it might have been any woman in Gaeul's position. Yujin. Wonyoung.

Wonyoung.

Her hand is halfway up your thigh, clearly excited at the image Gaeul is painting. You appreciate the gesture, don't misunderstand that, but there's enough sensory overload without having the weight of her fingers pressing into the firm muscle of your thigh. It isn't doing you any favours as the tiny beads of perspiration at Wonyoung's temple burn on her skin and her flush skin glows. There’s no blaming you for the fantasies that form in your mind. Each as naughty as the last.

Yujin.

She's staring out of the corner of her eye, eyes locked with you and a blank expression on her face. And you just wonder, what it would be like to have her mouth wrapped around your cock. It's difficult, staring down the girl you like while the girl you like (and regularly fucking) has a hand on your leg.

And you just want them both. Right here, right now.

Gaeul continues, "and he's just grabbing at me, palm on my face, gripping my head and he's just fucking my face." You can barely hear her over the beating of your own heart in your eardrum—drumming loudly.

"I must've been choking, and he thought that was hot. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want him to. He had me pinned, pressing his fingertips into my skin."

Speaking of fingertips, Wonyoung's trace your crotch, blindly roaming and teasing.

"Fuck." Wonyoung's only word—just a whisper from her lips.

Gaeul continues, "I was in heaven." Her eyes are sparkling. They’re glazed over and far-away, lost in the vivid memory.

"Wow," Rei stares in awe.

Gaeul shuffles around in her seat. First running her hand over her legs, pressed together at the knees, before moving a hand over her waist and pulling at the clingy material of her black yoga pants, that stretch tight across her hips. "So... Um... Yeah I guess you could say I like his huge cock."

Yujin speaks now and her voice cuts straight to your core. "He must love that you're, like, a total submissive slut in bed."

"Sometimes," Gaeul is almost back in the room, no longer enraptured by the memories of being used.

"You must blow him any chance you get," Rei pushes.

"Of course." Gaeul nods. She seems pleased as punch, her mouth spreading into a wide grin.

The words spill from your lips, "what about in public places?" And well, fuck, you meant for it to sound a lot more coy.

"A time or two..." she pauses, puckering her lips as her brows lift together, her head tilts slightly, and her gaze lifts upwards as she wracks her mind. "Well, a few times, if that’s interesting to you."

"Very.” Fuck. “I mean. I'm just curious." Stop talking, idiot.

"Well, the details are a secret for now," she grins toward Wonyoung and Yujin, who share a smile and a look.

"How come I haven't heard about this?" Rei chimes in. "You've got a new story every other week, but not even a whisper of this?"

"Because this is naughty and embarrassing." Gaeul covers her face. She's clearly a confused mixture of turned-on and shy right now. She might be a bit hesitant to share her wilder adventures, but the others aren't at all apprehensive about listening to the dirty details.

"One more," Wonyoung requests. She sits at the edge of her seat with a hand planted on your crotch and the other resting on her knee.

"Another?" Gaeul inquires. "I think it's someone else's turn now."

"Gaeul is right. Yujin, ever done anything naughty in public?" Wonyoung asks, drawing in and passing on the attention.

"Not in public, but..." Yujin stares at you for a moment too long. Clearly, the whole not telling anyone thing doesn’t apply to the girls in this room. It’s all far too obvious. "But I did have some fun recently." She grins like the cat that caught the canary.

"How recently?" Wonyoung cocks her head and a few loose locks fall over her shoulder. "What kind of fun? Who with?"

"Just... some guy. He was a total sub, did everything I told him to." She drags her teeth across the plump swell of her bottom lip.

Some guy? Sometimes it feels like all you will ever be.

"Did what you told him?" Gaeul sounds intrigued. "What did you ask him to do?"

"Don't know," Yujin answers quickly. Too quickly. "Nothing much. Just something special for me." Her teeth are back against her lower lip, chewing on it before continuing. "Thing is, he’s a cute guy, and he was a real natural.”

"Did you cum?" Rei jumps in again, straight to the point.

"More than once." Yujin's face lit up. “I didn't let him fuck me, though. You should have seen the desperate look on his face.”

“Did you even let him cum? Poor guy.” Gaeul sympathises unnecessarily, and unknowingly, with you.

“I did, made him blow a load right on me.”

“Oh fuck, I love that.” Rei chimes in with an approving nod. “On my body makes me feel so hot.”

“I'm a face girl myself.” Gaeul admits before bursting out into embarrassed laughter.

Wonyoung stays noticeably quiet on this one. Of course, you know why. ‘Too messy’, she always told you.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” laughs Rei at Gaeul.

God only knows how you ended up in this situation. Sitting between four women, all gorgeous in their own way, each getting equally aroused by the topic of conversation. The atmosphere in the room, so humid and hot already, has seemed to intensify tenfold in the moments since Gaeul began her sordid tale. Now, with each question and subsequent answer, it was building steadily, the sexual tension increasing in magnitude with each word. The heat of their sweat-soaked bodies permeates the air with the burn of the midday sun.

"You didn’t even get fucked? You're no fun, Yujin. I need detail." Wonyoung is feeding off the stories and expelling the energy through her touch into your cock. You pull your knees up now, to try to hide what Wonyoung is doing to you. "Rei. Save us. Please give us something juicy."

"I uh, well..." The nerves in her face are clear. Rei is more than happy to press details from others, but now she's in the spotlight. "There was this guy I met online. I don't even know his name. He just went by an emoji."

"An emoji?" the other three girls say in unison.

"Yeah. An orange. Anyway, not important. So, we met up." Her hands run along her bare thighs, feeling the sticky heat of her palms and the cool beads of sweat along her smooth legs. "I kinda asked him to... I mean, it wasn't explicitly—" She begins her excuses as though her asking this anonymous man to come meet her was shameful. Her fumbling words get a giggle out of Yujin.

"Calm down, Rei, no-one is judging." Gaeul gives her friend an easy smile.

"This was just to hook up and no strings. He had a hotel room." Rei rubs at her neck. Blush overcomes her face.

"Love that vibe." Gaeul holds up a lazy thumb of approval. "The no-strings thing."

"So this wasn't a vanilla fucking, I bet. Did things get wild?" Wonyoung asks as she squeezes her grip on your cock in excitement. "Were there handcuffs or leashes involved? What was it, a spanking? Maybe even gotten yourself a strap, Rei?"

"Oh my god," the embarrassment hits Rei even stronger, even more colour blossoming into her skin, "you're unbelievable," she manages. "So, uh. Not that exactly."

"Yeah? Well, do tell," Gaeul smiles politely. "Might pick up some ideas for my fiancé."

"So there were handcuffs," Rei mutters, then shrugs in an almost nonchalant gesture.

"Yes!" Wonyoung whisper-shouts. "Nice. Let me guess, tied up and whipped." Her hand is the most motionless it has been on your clothed cock the entire time. As if it's frozen in anticipation.

"He restrained me. Cuffed me to the bed. Had his way with me," Rei reveals. It's obvious now she was looking anywhere but in your direction. "The guy was packing too. And knew what he was doing. My whole body was shaking, legs like jelly," she continued, eyes glassy, dreamy even, a thin film covering their beauty, staring ahead without focus. Her nails tap idly at her neck, like she is recalling the memory.

"Fuuuck," Wonyoung swears loudly. "That’s good." She can only speak in hushed tones now, the heat having sapped her strength and turned her speech breathy.

Wonyoung rolls her hips back. Just the slightest bit. But enough for you to feel it, a soft brush across the side of your leg. A brief acknowledgement of contact. An assurance, to you, that Wonyoung hadn't forgotten you or the movements of her hands.

"Shut up," Rei blushes at her friend.

"Look, you're squeezing your thighs together now. Just thinking about this mysterious Mr Orange is turning you on. You sure you're not dripping now?"

"Alright Wony, you're making it weird now." Yujin laughs at her, breaking some of the tension. "Sounds like you need to get laid. Still not doing anything with that boyfriend of yours?" The whole question rolls of her tongue while she’s staring at you. You’re caught in some unspoken, twisted game.

"Nope. Never will. You know I don't like him." Wonyoung’s words are ice cold. You never pushed for details on it, but you have picked up on bits and pieces of this before. As best you understand, her family pushed the relationship on her. He's some wealthy heir from another chaebol family. They never loved each other, or even knew each other properly. The relationship was purely political. Strategic.

"I have to go," Gaeul speaks while frantically tapping away on her phone. It's painfully obvious to everyone in the room what’s happening and where she's going. Her fiance is probably already getting the cuffs ready. But she doesn't seem to care to hide it and, to be frank, she cannot be the only person excited about the prospect of sex right now.

"You two girls should probably go too. I'm going to stay and work on my form a little." Wonyoung turns to face you. "And you're going to help me, right?"

"Of course, whatever you need." You respond automatically, feeling almost obligated at this point. Yujin chuckles at you. Probably internally mocking just how easy you really are. Just like how she described you earlier. Total sub.

"Okay, see you." Gaeul stands abruptly. “I need to—”

“We know.” The rest of you say together. She nods her head and then is heading for the door in a rush, collecting her stuff messily under her arm. She drops her hat at the door and stops to pick it up. While bending down, she looks back at the four of you.

“Have fun!” Rei calls out with genuine excitement.

Gaeul nods again and spins, rushing out the door.

Rei moves slower to leave, reluctant, almost. But once Yujin stands and is gathering her things, Rei follows suit.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking us home?” Yujin looks at you. She already knows how this will play out, but she wants to make her point.

“You could always wait outside for him.” Wonyoung responds for you with a cocky smile. There's no way she is letting you go.

“Why do you need him, anyway?” Rei asks.

“Rei, sweetie, look at her hand.” Yujin turns to her but gestures her hand out towards you—towards your lap.

“Oh. OH!” You can see in her face that she has so many questions, but the stare from Wonyoung makes her keep her mouth shut.

“Let's go,” Yujin places a hand on Rei's shoulder.

The two girls are walking away from you, and all you can do is watch their asses leave. Leggings hug one, the other in shorts, both thick. Plump asses, firm thighs, wide hips. The stretchy material of their clothing barely constrains them.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." Wonyoung immediately shifts to sit astride your thigh. It's not that she doesn't know that Rei and Yujin will spend their whole journey home talking about you two. It's just that she doesn't care.

She's straddling you. Her own leg pinning against your hard bulge. Wonyoung rolls herself along you, sending pleasure radiating in ripples throughout your body. Wonyoung smiles mischievously. "We've got half an hour, maybe."

Her hot breath hitting your face. It's hard to be sure how much of it is from her arousal and how much from the intense dancing not ten minutes ago.

"Fuck, that was so hot. The idea of Gaeul getting her pretty mouth fucked." Wonyoung lets out a satisfied sigh as she sinks her hips against your clothed leg. "Did you see her face? I bet she was creaming at just the memory."

Wonyoung's fingers slip under your waistband, then her hand follows them, wrapping around you and pumping. "You liked it." The confirmation is in her hand, but the grin on her face grows, evidently pleased to find your arousal. She licks her lip hungrily and gives a slow pump of her hand. "That's perfect. I really need a cock right now. In my throat."

As she says it, she backs off your lap, stands and steps away. Just a slight separation, but the difference is enormous: the absence of her hot, wet centre creates a vacuum—impossible to ignore.

She's already twisting around on her heels. Then she pulls her tight, tiny shorts down and takes her thong with them, squatting slightly to pass the clothes over her legs, leaving her bare ass in front of your face. She turns back to you, wearing only her skin tight tank top. Her sodden cunt is now right there, bare and as pretty as ever. "Clothes off."

Obedient and efficient, you pull at the bottom of your shirt to lift it over your head. There's no slow tease, just business: you lift your hips and pull off your shorts and underwear together, while kicking off your shoes.

"Get up," is her instruction, the stern bite on her voice only seeming to harden her demeanour. Wonyoung takes your place on the bench, sitting delicately, like an idol would. Cross-legged and her hands atop her knee. Her top still hugging her frame. She raises one hand and angles a single finger towards you, her wrist pointing to the ceiling. She beckons you, parting her plump lips and resting her head against the mirror behind her.

Mouth, Wonyoung signals again and, with that, you're moving towards her.

Wonyoung demands your attention. Everything about her is inviting: the playful half-lidded gaze as her tongue swirls in her mouth and she lets it roll slowly along her lip. Even just the sharp cut of her jaw and long strands that frame it are striking and you'll be the last one to object to giving her what she asks for.

“Wony—”

"Shh." A sharp sound. Her lips purse. Inviting. "come here."

Without a sound, your stiff cock presses toward Wonyoung's silky-smooth face. Though her lips are glistening and begging for you to glide in, they rest unmoving, arrogantly waiting for you to do the work. It is only for a brief moment, but it's infuriatingly unhelpful. The silence breaks though, and she groans in a mix of anticipation and irritation and tilts her face up, angling her hips against the edge of the bench as a soft hiss escaped her lips. "Now."

Your hand tangles into her hair as she wraps her mouth around you—wet, warm and oh-so very inviting. And she wastes no time in pushing forward and dragging your head in deeper, enveloping you, with her tongue sliding on the underside of your length. And she hums gently, the vibrations reaching you and rippling through the depths of your groin. She is eager for your cock, her hands reaching and clawing. A controlling grasp on your hips.

Your hands remain firmly wound into the strands of her hair, gripping as if you are afraid of floating away, all the blood in your system rushing to your centre, dizzying your brain. She began pulling your hips against her, directing the movements and ensuring each pump brought another inch into her mouth. She continues eagerly. Wonyoung's technique was a blend of savouring and indulgence, an incarnation of sheer passion.

Even from beneath you, Wonyoung maintains all power. She guides you without the slightest hint of effort. The flex of her shoulder, the flow of her arm. She pulls you in.

Deeper.

Every pump bringing your hips closer and closer to her face. Every move is for her, from the angle of her head to the arch of her spine and even the hollowing of her cheeks. She owns the power in your body—and she wants it that way too, drawing you ever deeper, encouraging more movement, silently coaxing and promising a glorious reward at the end.

Keep going. Words unspoken but never more clearly conveyed. The flutter of her eyelids and the fire they temporarily conceal. Her throat contracting against the tip of your cock every time she guides you in. The warm comfort of the excess saliva running from her lower lip.

Eyes fixed on her pretty face and innocent gaze through the not-so-innocent act. Everything around you in a haze.

Deeper.

Captivating. Her movements never waiver and her determination is infallible as your mind clouds and you feel that coil in your belly tighten and constrict and burn through. You know this can't last forever. No matter how much you wish it could, but you're lost in the trance and there's nothing that could break you out of it—except maybe Yuj—fuck, not now.

Wonyoung stops, throwing you a look as if she knows. As if she felt the doubt inside you. She parts her lips and draws her head back.

In a move that washes away all those doubts, Wonyoung brings right leg over left and follows through the movement, lifting her legs onto the bench, feet flat and knees in the air. Back flat against the bench. Head suspended from the end of it.

You're on autopilot, following her face down, your soaked cock leading the way. You shift, putting your knees on the hardwood floor.

She puckers her lips, closing her eyes and arching her back. Wonyoung lures you in. Her tongue curls and reels you inside her mouth. Just an inch and then two, then three, then four. Your eyes revel at the sight. The mirror to your side only elevates the experience as you watch your cock disappear in her. Two Wonyoungs laid side by side, taking two cocks.

Wonyoung continues arching as you push on. Further and further and further.

Deeper.

Until... no more.

Until her eyes squeeze shut and the walls of her throat clenches, seizing down on you.

A strangled moan rasps in your throat as you lunge forward, trying desperately, selfishly, to press beyond the possible. You could lose to her right here and now.

Not now, no, not yet, not without fucking that tight little throat first.

Her throat bulging with the girth of your cock, her muscles desperately attempting to repel the foreign invasion.

Air is at a premium for the petite girl strewn out on the end of your cock. And yet, she settles, relaxes. She feels at home with a throat full of cock. Her long, slender legs remain folded together, yet while you were caught up in the intensity of entering her mouth, Wonyoung found the time to bury a hand between her thighs.

She's fucking her own hand. Rotating her hips and squeezing her thighs.

You draw out of her mouth, only for a second, just to give her the gasp of air she so desperately needs before you fuck into her throat again. Her legs clench as you thrust. Every little bit of pleasure that Wonyoung desires, she gets—as always.

There it is again, the vibrations against your tip as she moans.

Your fists full of hair and now, you pound into her pretty little mouth without pause. Creating the lewdest of sights. Wonyoung on the verge of orgasm, her face filled with you.

She's only becoming more of a mess as you fuck it, the saliva pouring from her mouth running over her. You keep going for so long that she’s spluttering. She’s choking now between the brief moments you give her, just like Gaeul was in her story. This is what Wonyoung wants, exactly how she wanted it.

It’s funny that for a girl so intent on you not making a mess of her, this is what she has become. She just has to really want it. Duly noted.

And god, is she fucking loving it. The pleasure washes over her as her body wriggles, and you continue your thrusting. She continues her own. Together, you take her to her peak. And you don't stop. Her hand doesn't stop—pushing past it, forcing herself into a state of bliss.

It's messier still. It's so fucking messy when she cums. Tears streaming. Saliva drooling. Sticky cum enveloping her hand.

And it's good. It's so fucking good when she moans on your cock. It's soft. It's tight. It vibrates, sucks—holds you and stimulates you. Her throat is—if only for a moment—the best sex toy that money can’t buy.

You have to give it to her, she’s playing the role of toy perfectly.

This toy? It plays with you.

She pushes her hand against the base of your cock. No more fucking. No more exploring the depth of her delicate throat. She had just came, after all.

That’s what matters to her.

You—you're on the edge and hanging on for dear life. The knot is twisted so tight that it hurts. And holding you on that edge is Wonyoung, holding you by the cock. An unmoving hand. If you weren't already on your knees, you would fall to them.

"Fuck, that was good." Wonyoung peeks around the cock she holds above her face, a wry smile painting her lips.

You want to reply, but your need to cum is clouding your mind like the most powerful of drugs. Words are just letters floating around your mind. Intoxicated by a woman, as you have been so many times. She's not just any woman.

"What's wrong? Aww, do you want to cum?" She playfully, with no real grip, twists and pulls her hand on your cock. It's not enough.

You let out a huff and nod.

She flashes an evil grin. "How about on my face?"

It's not something she's ever offered before. As much as you thought, so many times, about covering her pretty face in your cum, you never expected her to offer it. Perhaps that alone should serve as a warning. Too good to be true.

But at this point, you don't give a fuck. In her throat, on her face, you just need her to give you a sweet release. You chase it, pushing your hips towards her hands, desperately searching for friction. Blinded by lust, as dumb as a dog.

"First, tell me something." It says a lot about her. How she can be mostly naked, on her back underneath you, freshly fucked throat and all. And somehow she holds all the cards in this situation. "Did you fuck Yujin?"

"No..." It's not strictly a lie. You never put your cock inside her.

"I saw your dirty faces, the way you look at each other. And the way she told that story, about you, with you right there."

"Wonyoung. We didn't fuck. But even if we did, would that be so bad?"

"But she let you cum on her?” Wonyoung laughs aloud and starts playfully stroking your cock again. "You should have fucked her."

The action of her hand is torture, keeping you dangling and off balance. You were so close to the release and now she is holding you over the precipice, with no warning of a fall either way. You're as lost for words as you are for action. But truthfully, is it even a surprise that Wonyoung doesn't care if you do fuck her friend? She is the one cheating on her boyfriend, after all. Your only crime may be not telling her first.

"Now, will you cum on my face already? I know Yujin will never let you do this." And that’s it. The crux of it all. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The reason this is happening, any of this here in this room, is because she refuses to be outshone. She intends to match act for act with all her friends, except Yujin. Yujin, she wants to beat—and the game is you.

And the irony is, she would never let her boyfriend do any of this.

"Fuck, Wony, you're insane," you grit, nearly delirious. This couldn't get any better. Two identical hot girls, mirrored and now they're getting even more adventurous. And Wonyoung finally ready to give you the satisfaction of blowing a load on her face? You couldn’t care less why it was happening, only that it was.

You fucking into her grip. In some metaphor for the whole relationship, your hips do work while her hand guides, keeping you aimed at her innocent face. She softly closes her eyes, slightly parting her lips. Waiting. She looks so beautiful, relaxed and comfortable, despite knowing what was coming. Despite the saliva still running from her mouth. Despite the post orgasm glow on her face.

"Anytime now." Wonyoung opened one eye, her face still pointing directly upwards. "Don’t make me ask again."

The feeling takes over, starting at the root of your spine, in the base of your gut, and bubbling like a cauldron ready to explode. Her soft hand strokes harder, working you the last few paces as her tongue slips past her pink lips, flicking over them gently.

The sensations erupt. That familiar hot-cold tingle. Those electrifying nerves firing off. You buck wildly, firing off ribbons of cum across Wonyoung's flawless, innocent face. Her lips spread apart in a wide open-mouthed gasp and then shut immediately afterwards.

And, amidst the spurting of cum and the euphoric high, Wonyoung deviously began licking, slurping, sucking. Swiping the fluid off her lips, catching every shot. Her face is the image of debauchery. You're fixated—stretching out the few remaining seconds of orgasm as your cock twitches in her hand and on her face. She's draining you dry with her naughty smirk.

Even when it’s over and done, she maintains that same confident look on her face. Her nose and lips are shiny and dripping with cum. But she never hesitates; her mouth parts and her tongue juts out, curling up to you. Your cock disappears inside, a wet-hot paradise. She's cleaning you. Swirling her tongue and sliding up the length, pulling off the mess. Sucking on the tip to coax the last remnants to pool inside her waiting mouth.

Your body burns. Satisfaction seeping out your limbs and leaving your body weightless, barely holding yourself over her on the wooden bench.

She draws you out. Dripping with her spit. Hanging heavy. Sensitive as her mouth lets go and pulls back, the suction releasing. Then, lips tight, mouth closing, her neck moving as she swallows.

Wonyoung twists and rises, sitting again the bench, in your kneeled position this leaves you eye to eye.

Pain. Stinging.

So much of it on your left cheek.

She just slapped you. She fucking slapped you. You're bigger than her, stronger than her, and yet you feel so small.

"Next time you fool around with another girl, you get my permission first."

Her voice is icy. You shake your head, holding your face. Staring at your reflection in the mirror; you're flush but one cheek is redder than the other. And you can see her too. She’s pulling up part of her top, wiping away most of your cum—the bits that didn’t already fall onto her body or into her hair, anyway. Her face looks like an angel's, but her actions betraying the illusion.

"Now make it up to me." She's looking at you through the reflection. Then, turning and facing you directly, she reaches out to hold you by the jaw, pulling your focus back to her. It’s hard to believe that she’s the one cheating here.

She slaps you again.

You're locked in a cold and silent stare. Tied together by tension.

You're stunned. Left at her mercy. Wonyoung dips her head forward, going in for a kiss, her heart-shaped lips plant directly on your own and before you know it, you're returning the kiss.

It's rough, and it's messy. She bites at you—hard—while her fingers claw your skin, running along your muscles. All until suddenly she pulls you, guides you. Not physically, but that's certainly what it feels like. Such is your response. You take her place on the bench, sitting while she leans over you.

Wonyoung breaks the kiss and leaves you to watch the scene unfold and admire her perfect form, lithe and slender but not without toned definition, which is exactly why she could pull off outfits that would send men insane, simply based on how she looks underneath.

Her hands splay across her flawless flesh. Deliberately. Slowly.

Never a movement out of place and ensuring her head is held high and regal—a queen's demeanour.

Standing over you. Looking down upon you, no less arrogant than before. It’s her natural position. Her default state. To have power over man.

If she didn't look so angelic, you'd swear she's a devil.

Starting at her shoulders, fingertips slipping over the porcelain skin of her arms until they reach the elbows and hop over to her waist, gripping the hem of her tank top. It doesn't sit as tight as it did before—bunched up, a little twisted, and dashed in cum. It doesn't sit in any fashion for much longer as she pulls it overhead in a single motion. The top lands discarded and forgotten. Her hair, damp and ruffled, now cascades over her petite shoulders in thick strands.

She's bare now. Head to toe. Your eyes dart all over, drinking her beauty like a tall glass of water. Taking in all her stunning details—she is a perfect portrait of a perfect woman, a fantasy even.

This image has been burned into your mind many times over. Yet somehow, each and every time feels new. Awestruck, you admire her petite body, the lean and firm muscles, and just enough of a pair of breasts that gravity calls their name.

"Wony. You're so—"

"I know." She cocks an arrogant smirk.

"I think—"

"I know." She stalks slowly closer. Like a predator over its prey.

"I want to—"

"Oh. I know." She's so damn cute when she giggles. It almost feels inappropriate for what's going down. And then the little devil rears within her again, manifesting in her expression. Darker than it was before.

Her fingers trace her flat stomach, rising and falling in time with her breaths. A cadence to them which tells a story of excitement, no less excited than the first time she teased you in your car. Now here, and over a month later, you still haven't gotten your fill. Even this—maybe especially this—could never be enough. The slightest and subtlest hints of arousal are beautiful on her. She's practically purring when she perches on top of you and pins you back against the mirror by the shoulders.

"Who does your big dick belong to?" She poses the question while delicately lowering herself onto you, staring into your eyes. You hesitate to answer, too stricken by the image of Wonyoung finding a comfortable seat on you.

"You." No matter what your relationship might be or who else was involved, in this moment, like so many before it, you are hers and no other. "Fuck me, Wonyoung, please."

"So very needy." The words roll off her tongue as the heat of her cunt skates up toward your middle. So close against your skin, you can feel her pulse throb against your stomach. Her petite ass pressing down onto your stiff cock. Her hands spread wide and palms flat on your chest, steadying her, giving her strength. Her hips roll, coating you with the wetness between her thighs. Back arched, neck strained, head tilting upwards. Every muscle flexes in her exposed form.

She is unadulterated eroticism, every grind of her hips and caress of her hands. An utter marvel.

"Don't. Move." Every word has her breath caught in her throat.

Been through this so many times before that there's an unspoken understanding. Wonyoung scoots her body over you. Hand reaching for your cock. Delicate fingers. Dainty, as she grips it, guiding, angling it against her. Lower, lower until—she finds the entrance and presses it against herself. A sharp intake of air. Her eyes squeezed closed. She holds there for a second until gravity takes control, hips dropping to impale her onto your length.

Your eyes roll back and so does your mind, back to the view of Wonyoung's body moving during the dance. Does she know she's mirroring those mesmerising hip movements on you? Maybe not. But it doesn't change anything. Not to Wonyoung. She does it so naturally—the consummate performer, who knows what works.

You're looking down. Down. Down to where she's perched on your dick. Admiring her tight cunt, working so hard to take you in. Muscles gripping. Walls clenching. Stretching to fit. Working her body downward.

Her ass never rests on you. This is all her work. Perpetual motion. Constant and consistent. Down and then up and then down and back up. Gradual. Calculated and controlled. Fingers raking at your chest as the motion of her body doubles as the dance, sending that intoxicating swaying motion through her and into you.

Eyes travel up. How her toned abs flex. Trim and petite. It all only serves to highlight just how pretty a figure she cuts. Elegant and alluring. Sinking down, squeezing you into her.

Higher. Her perky little tits in front of your face. Smooth, perfect, porcelain.

Higher. Her sharp collarbone, all the little contours, carved for her as though by the most brilliant artisan.

Higher. Neck curved, shifting from her swallow and gasp.

To her blood-red lips. They part and between them her tongue flicks, hitting her front teeth before she bites down on her lower lip. It stifles a soft moan until it's barely a whisper.

And her eyes. Sheer focus. Not on you. But on the mirror behind you.

On her own reflection.

All the time you spend to admire her, she is doing the same thing. Staring herself up and down. It is selfish and greedy. An egotistical desire. An intimate moment—with the person she truly loves most.

It's narcissism taken to a degree you've never seen before. An addictive kind of worship. For both of you.

"Wony..." holding your eyes up to hers, watching her as she's watching herself. She looks like a goddess. "Does it feel good? I love the feeling of my cock inside you," you say in an attempt to gain her focus. "Fuck. You're perfect."

A soft exhale as her eyes lock onto yours for just a moment, then her lashes flutter closed.

She takes a hand from your chest and plants it over your mouth. Her eyes flicker back to life and she's got them on the mirror again.

She's aggressive now. The girl in the mirror is hitting her hips harder than before onto the cock beneath her. Her crotch hitting against your own. You can't help but steer into the skid, being the silent participant she desires. You're pawing your hands at her cunt now. Figuring out then matching her rhythm and pushing your finger against her clit. It's obscene, hearing her wet cunt smacking against your legs.

Her almost silent focus breaks. She's not stifling her moans anymore.

And fuck you for saying this: but watching her watch herself makes the moment fucking magical.

Her eyebrows knitting as the tides of pleasure crash over her. Her lower lip quivering. The wrinkles on her nose. Her chest fluttering. A struggle to maintain her posture.

She's shaking. From her arms to her knees and through to the tips of her fingers.

She throws herself forward against you.

Head on your shoulder. Her forehead against the glass.

Wonyoung's entire body is convulsing on you. A string of incomprehensible cries echoing against the empty walls. You grab at the flesh of her ass with your hands, clamping her tight, encouraging her to keep pushing back into you and ride out the orgasm. She is shaking violently in your embrace. She is grinding, squeezing, tightening, and quaking all at once.

You run a hand up her moist back, along her spine. Meeting many moistened locks of hair, sticking to her skin. You hold your hand at the top of her back, supporting her limp frame against you.

Her mouth is right by your ear. You listen to the final quiet noises of bliss escaping her. Washing out of her. She lets you know just how good it was, if not from those satisfied groans and the shuddering of her body, then from the deluge of her arousal pooling around your cock and her cunt. She is dripping cum. Hot and sticky, in more than one spot. It was messy. Messy, but it was unbridled fun.

"What the fuck was that?" you whisper. She raises her head off your shoulder and leans back, sitting tall on top of you. Still, your cock is inside, throbbing and ready for its turn. Her hands snake to your jaw and hold it tightly.

"Exactly what I needed."

"And the mirror thing?"

"What can I say? I look pretty when I'm fucking." Wonyoung laughs, soft and breathy, an intimate moment shared only by you two. Now it’s not like you should be surprised by any of it. On a scale of one to ten, Wonyoung is an eleven, though you imagine you asked her. She would give herself a twelve.

The hands leave your jaw, only to be replaced with the pressure of Wonyoung pressing forward again to kiss you. More? Finally.

"You wanna cum again?" she asks, words separated by kisses before moving to your neck.

"Mmmm..." is all the answer you can give, distracted by the feeling of her body shifting against yours.

Wonyoung pulls back from your neck to look at you, burrowing her hand into the hair at the back of your head. She squeezes into a fist, forcing a grimace of pain from you, which brings a grin to her lips.

"Is that a yes?" Her voice a blade edge against your ears.

"Fuck. Yes. Of course."

"That's what I thought." The sly girl, hiding the self-assured vixen underneath her exquisite exterior. "Stand. I want you to fuck me against the mirror."

Still planted to the hilt inside her, you begin to stand.

You're unable to pull out of the tight wet warmth that is Jang Wonyoung. Her grip tight on you—coiling around your cock—effectively pinning you in her. Her body melts against you like candle wax. Warm and lax.

She's weightless as you stand, her slender frame clasped around your body. It's easy to manhandle a girl this small—one of your hands, pressed firmly to her back, can encompass her tiny waist. Your other arm hooks under her ass, holding her suspended. And, for the time being, all of her is draped over and around you.

You press her to the cold mirror, and she shudders, arching her back. Her entire body stretches as if trying to get further from it—leaving a smear of sweat on it. Legs lock around your hips. Folded tight. Locking in the key. Caging you between her thighs. You hold her with a single hand now—curling it under her tiny ass. Fingertips gripping, digging into flesh. The other against the mirror—for balance.

You bend your knees, taking position, gaining posture. The slightest movement it causes inside her brings a gasp. She's clinging tighter to you. Her arms coil around your shoulders, her ankles crossed around the small of your back, her core tightening and squeezing her pelvis forward—grinding herself into you. The squeeze on your cock exhilarates. The pressure is immense—inside and outside. You've never had her this tight.

A rumble rasps through your vocal chords as a growl escapes your mouth. It vibrates against the warmth of her neck and into her small frame.

"Come on, give it to me, don’t hold back" her lips barely move as they whisper against you.

"Is that what you want, Wonyoung? You want me to fuck you as hard as I can against the mirror?" Your hips press firmly against hers. Her tight cunt does its best to embrace you.

"Fuck. Yes."

That was all the cue you needed, drawing back and then slamming yourself deep in her—and back again—forming the thrust into a series of unforgiving blows.

She bounces between your pelvis and the cool glass, rattling as her naked form is hit against the mirror. Small, supple and yielding, taking your full force, each movement amplified and exaggerated in her tiny frame. Her cries—from shock, surprise, pleasure, and delight—they echo. The lewd smacks of flesh hitting, the loud moans and the heat. It all collides right here on the wall of the studio.

It's frantic. It's furious. It's fucking euphoric. You're locked inside a beauty who is getting filled to the absolute brim by your cock. It's a power rush—Wonyoung's eternal play on control and dominance being robbed from her and your ability to just keep pounding into her tight, wet cunt.

"Ah!" Wonyoung winces. You pause for a brief second. Did she really mean stop? But a moment later, her lips curl into a grin, "Yes! Harder! Don't hold back. I need you to wreck my fucking pussy!"

And it begins anew—all the noise. The bouncing, slamming and swearing. And despite the fire and the fury, you can sense a strange calm. Like this is exactly where the two of you are supposed to be. This is exactly where the both of you always needed to be. Right here. In the moment. Because Wonyoung doesn't need a man and she didn't need someone who would fall at her feet and treat her like royalty—she has enough of those. No, all she ever needed was a dick who could fuck her within an inch of her life.

A hard slam sends Wonyoung crashing back to the mirror with a shrill yelp and a wide grin. "Yes! Exactly like that!"

Firm fingers twist into your flesh, her hands clawing, desperately grasping at anything she could find to ground her, all while your brutal assault continues unabated, sending waves of ecstasy cascading through both bodies. Her wails rise and break—crescendos interrupted—but never stopped. Both of you are a complete mess as the furious fuck brings out everything each of you are. The deep animalistic desires. And when you hear her scream, it is a different kind of high.

"Don't stop! Don't you dare fucking stop! Don't fucking sto—mm!" she struggles and gasps for breath, struggling to keep track of her words, the raging bonfire between her legs clouding her mind. "F-fuck..."

"Cumming? Cum." The only words you could manage. You could feel it too, the rising tide. A mountain climber, clinging to the peak, each and every muscle engaged in the fight.

"Yes—" her breath is snatched before another animalistic moan. "Don't stop." She pulls at your hair, claws at your back, a fierce warning. "Don't fucking cum yet."

She holds, gripping onto the ridge, the muscles in her arms, in her legs, her hands tense. The world turns, spinning, and spiralling—the two of you holding tight to one another, both grunting with the strain. She is cumming now, you know it. She spasms against you, against the mirror, and she’s becoming ever more difficult to hold.

Your feet are failing you, threating to give way. In a desperate act, you spin from the wall, drop to your knees, taking Wonyoung with you. There's no stopping you now. Feral. Bestial. Both of your bodies crashing together. She's arching, clawing, and pulling and urging you forward. On the hardwood floors, you fuck like animals. Your legs may have given way, but your hips don't surrender. Don't succumb to the exertion. You're fucking her in to the floor. Her tiny ass pressed against it.

The thundering smack of flesh.

Tumultuous breathing and roaring, unbroken moans.

Arching, bending.

Heating and rising.

You're right on the edge.

She never lets you finish inside.

"Wonyoung, I..."

"Don't fucking dare." Her voice sharp. You hold on to the feeling for dear life. "On me."

It's enough. You accept that it’s never in her. Never before on her, but now twice in a day. It’s enough. She can't possibly mean it...

"I'm—Fuck, I'm..."

"On me. Yes. Cum allover me." She releases you from her grasp and you pull back to your knees. She spreads herself for you. Arms out to her side, palms flat on the hardwood floors, legs pulled apart with her knees resting on your hips. Presenting for you.

Your hand wraps around your shaft, throbbing and hot to touch. You beat your cock for a few quick seconds, with balls tight, with Wonyoung laid prone for you, watching you stroke your cock.

Watching her. She arches, presses herself upwards, offering her breasts, her stomach... her face.

You don't have any time to think. It is happening.

You unload on her with a sharp grunt, met with a shocked gasp. Coating her petite form. The white stuff gliding across her porcelain skin, decorating the gorgeous girl beneath you. The lean cut of a dancer, now adorned in your cum. You shoot ropes of it across her perky little tits and narrow stomach and her pretty face. A sticky sheen glazes her and drips down. Her tongue flickers, collecting what she can and her mouth hungrily welcomes each droplet.

What's this, you wonder? Is this to be her addiction?

Every motion of her body screams need, sexual need. She wants it all, greedily licking and lapping it up as you drop the final rivulets of cum onto her tummy.

You're captivated as you watch Wonyoung, laying patiently under a sputtering of cum, a thin layer glossing parts her body. She didn't bother to wipe it or scoop it up, instead; it ran down her, following the channels carved out by her subtle contours. A work of art in your eyes—this pretty face, contorted in twisted lust—at the feeling of hot, sticky fluid painting her perfect body.

In all these moments you two have shared, this truly is a first. A messy, debauched cum covered Wonyoung.

"Does it feel good to cover me with your cum?"

You nod.

"Say it. Out loud, I can see it in your eyes. You like seeing your cum on my pretty little face? On my body?"

"I fucking love it, Wony," you mutter and she laughs, a laugh somewhere between playful and impish.

"I feel filthy," Wonyoung confesses with a devilish smirk. "I bet you love to hear that?"

"Yes. Yes," you breathe the words out as you desperately try to catch your breath. Her leg comes up, sliding her toes along the underside of your sensitive cock. Too sensitive.

"Agh," you flinch. "Fuck."

She pushes the tip of your cock against your stomach, rubbing her toes on it and you start to pull away, the friction causing pain.

"Stay." Her tone is a firm demand, in control of the situation—despite her current state. Your body obeys the instruction. Her toes start to roam across your softening cock again. Slick with her fluids. She twists, rubbing the shaft. Pinches, rubbing the head. Pulls, tugging down. The intensity of stimulation is mind numbing. A sick mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Who's the best?" Wonyoung asks. It takes a few seconds to process, a delay, and longer than normal. Your brain fogged. Too much to even formulate words.

"Who's the best, hm? Answer me." Her demand is no louder but feels heavier. Her foot slides down your cock, pushing at the base, pushing at your balls.

Your words are slow to follow.

"Wonyo—" she presses more, and a shock runs up the base of your spine. "Agh...you. Wonyoung, you." Your words choke up. "You're the best."

"Thought so."

Another moment of silent pause. She puckers her lips, sucking up and swallowing a patch of your cum that found it’s way to her hand. It draws your eyes to her, a silent spectacle. She locks on you, her gaze so steady and so piercing.

"And, who's going to clean this mess up so we don't get caught?"

"Me." The words tumble out, falling off your lips.

"Good. Your bathroom is down the hall. Don't get caught, and don't leave a trace." She recoils her foot and then climbs out of the mess the two of you left on the floor. Her step is awkward. Your load is now starting to harden on her. Her calves slick from her own cum. The gloss of it shining on her skin.

All the time, her face beaming. Satisfied and glowing. Wonyoung is relishing her depraved state. She doesn't wait for you to follow. Not even a look as she collects her clothes. Her shorts with the thong. Her completely ruined tank top. Both shoes. She starts to walk, again with that awkward gait.

After only a couple of steps she looks over her shoulder, back at you, still subdued on the floor. "By the way. That was your best yet. That… was amazing." She smiles softly and heads to the changing room. She disappears. Leaving your mind and your imagination to swirl as you stare at her spot on the floor long after she was gone.

The cum, her sweat, the stickiness—all the marks that prove she was there, the evidence that paints a picture of what went on in this dance studio.

You never see her leave. She must have slipped out between trips to and from the bathroom, and then the janitor's closet, which you eventually found. You thank the stars for Wonyoung's privilege—that meant no staff are needed on the evenings she is here.

What a strange silence it was as you cleaned—nothing but the rain outside. An unsettling contrast between what went on before. Almost tranquil—like that weird place just before waking, before reality has time to assert itself and erase the dream of the night before.

***

"It's dance practice tonight. I take it you'll be there again, following Wonyoung as usual?" Yujin mocks you playfully while playing with her straw between her delicate fingers. Her glass half-full of milkshake which she lazily stirs and drinks. Drinks loudly with a slurp on the straw.

"Don't you want me there?" you reply after swallowing the last bite of your meal and setting down your cutlery. The cafeteria is as lively as ever. Aside from this particular table, where it's only the two of you. It's not the type of table just anyone can take a seat at—Wonyoung wouldn't allow it.

"Doesn't matter. Wony's the one that invited you."

"She just wants me to—"

"Wants you to fuck her. Yeah, we all know." Yujin lets go of her straw, and it settles into the milkshake. You both lean back in the plastic cafeteria seats. She crosses her arms. "And no, it's not that I'm jealous. Don't even try it."

"I didn't say anything." You show her the palms of your hands. Not guilty is your plea.

"At least if I hang around, I can take you guys home, right? No need for your father to send a car." Always the people pleaser, you are.

"And did that happen last week? No, it didn't." Yujin picks up her drink and takes a slurp from the straw while staring at you. It's hard to tell if she's actually annoyed at you. Her words would say so, but her tones remain calm and soft when she speaks.

Besides, she knows that she could just as easily make the same demands Wonyoung does, and you'd be on your knees for her in a second.

But it's been 8 whole days since that night at Yujin's house. And she's yet to even hint that she wants it to happen again. The more you think about it, the more confused you get.

"Not interrupting am I? I can give you some alone time if you like?" Gaeul places her hand on your shoulder, looking down at you and grinning.

"Not funny Gaeul. And no. Sit." Unusually cold from Yujin, she avoids your eye and gives Gaeul a short-tempered response.

Gaeul walks around behind Yujin, giving you a wide-eyed glare as she goes. As if to say 'what did you do?' It's impossible to answer with words. It's all too much, too tangled.

She takes a seat next to Yujin, placing her iced coffee on the table along with her protein bar. It's typical Gaeul. She's always on the move, living life at an aggressive pace, constantly busy. Even now she's on her phone, scrolling through something. You can't see what from this angle, and you've barely got the chance to catch her eyes and smile at her. But her face lights up, the brightness mirrored as you smile back.

"They're announcing the casts tonight for the graduation performances." Yujin nods as her finger points toward Gaeul's phone.

"We already know how it's going to go down. They’re not going to deny the money and status of a Jang. And we’ll be there to back her up." Gaeul pauses and takes a sip of her drink. "For us anyway. That's all that matters."

Gaeul slips the phone back into her bag and then scoops up the protein bar, starting to unwrap it. Before she takes a bite she asks you, "what about you? Why didn't you ever sign up to anything?"

"Because he's too busy sitting in the back of dance classes staring at our asses," Yujin answers for you.

"Actually, I'm still new here, remember? I just haven't got around to it yet."

"Yeah, because you're too busy staring at our asses," Yujin persists with a coy smile.

"Sure. Let's call it that. So I've been too busy staring at your asses to sign up for any classes."

"Alright, not too loud." Gaeul laughs. How did the conversation always end up going the same way? And how are you always in the middle of it? Thankfully, Gaeul decides to bail you out. "So, bro, any plans to go to the party tomorrow night?"

"You mean the one I didn't get an invitation to?" you're quick to ask back.

"You can be my plus one."

"Boyfriend not in town?" Yujin is quick to ask before you can reply to Gaeul.

"Nope. But I can't let that spoil my fun, plus it means I can bring a friend." Her eyes flutter back across to you. "Unless you've already got a plan for tomorrow night?"

"Sure, why not? Not like I've got much else going on. Are you going to be there, Yujin?"

Yujin swallows the last slurp of her milkshake, the loud straw sucking noise filling the void of the pause. "I'll be there. Actually, I need you tomorrow, before the party."

"Before?"

"Yes. You're going to help me pick a dress." It's not exactly the exciting rendezvous that sprung to mind. You weren't even sure exactly why you had to go. Why Yujin would need your opinion?

You open your mouth to speak but before even a syllable comes out, you spot Wonyoung across the room, heading towards the three of you. Yujin catches on and follows your gaze, not long before Gaeul follows suit, twisting in her chair. For a moment, the three of you are watching Wonyoung stride over the tiled floor. Each footstep seems to make the world grow quieter. People all around seem to part for her. It's not even conscious on their part.

It's hypnotising. It's captivating. It's utterly spellbinding the way she moves.

She has a sense of dignity, class, and poise. There's an elegance to her, and just a hint of sway in her hips. At the same time, Wonyoung's every movement also screams of a fierce strength. An undercurrent of steel. Not intimidating—not intentionally at least. Maybe simply the natural impression of a strong young woman, fearlessly unapologetic.

She reaches the three of you, greeting with a grin. "Did I miss much?"

Gaeul is the first to reply. "Just talking about the party."

"Oh exciting. I've seen the guest list. I can't wait." Wonyoung slides gracefully into the seat by your side, carefully placing her designer bag on the table. No need for her to say any more, Wonyoung and high-brow parties go hand-in-hand.

The room around you is slowly, subtly coming back to life. Sounds from everywhere start, one by one, to creep back in. The conversations return. The low hubbub. The clattering of trays. It's getting loud again.

Wonyoung continues, "and I do need to get out of the house. Father is away again and mother drives me insane."

"He's away again?" Yujin asks, shuffling in her seat and then leaning forward. She brings her palm to her chin and her elbow onto the table.

"New York this time. Something like that. Company business." Wonyoung dismisses. You are well aware that they've never been close. He's worked from the earliest day she can remember up until now—that’s the life of the head of a chaebol. She told you before about how he's rarely home. And even when his body is, his mind is still half-way around the globe. His wife probably suffers for it, too. She raises the kids alone.

And look, you were never one to pry, so the details aren't all there, but Wonyoung seemed confident that her father wasn't exactly faithful. The kind of stories you'd normally imagine just being made up by rich housewives who had too much time on their hands—but she told you he had quite the appetite for the kind of services the elite always seemed to appreciate.

"New York?" Yujin thinks for a moment, living in her own head. "I could do New York. Me and you? A girl’s trip. That sounds..."

"But what about the guy?" Gaeul points at you.

Wonyoung puts her hand on your leg, sliding down and rubbing your knee. "You'll stay here and wait for us, won't you?"

"Well, I was thinking that, you know, you could take him with you?" You never saw this coming. Maybe you should, but it caught you off guard. The three of you in the Big Apple for a week? Sign you the fuck up, and then some.

Not that you'd have a chance in hell of affording such a trip. The reality is often harsher than the dream.

"We could, but I don't think it would be fair on Yujin. Unless we..." It takes the others a moment to figure out exactly what Wonyoung is implying.

"No way, don't bring me into this. You already said that it would be weird. We’re too competitive."

They're speaking in tongues now and Gaeul's face full of confusion likely mirrors your own.

"What are you two talking about?" Gaeul questions, for her sake and yours. But before she get's an answer, she's looking out of the corner of her eye. She freezes for a minute and then turns to face the vice principal. She's headed right for your table and the four of you succumb to silence.

There's not many reasons a staff member would visit a group of students while they're eating at lunch. None of you are late with an assignment nor have you failed any tests. Not even a recent school event gone wrong. It must be something worse.

"Am I interrupting?" The Vice Principal stands over your table, looking over the four of you.

You all shake your head in unison, a lock of hair falling over Yujin's face, which she quickly sweeps back behind her ear.

The vice principal points in your direction, pointing right between your eyes. "You. Principal's office. Now."

The eyes of the girls fall on you. All of them shocked by the statement.

It's unheard of to be dragged into the Principal's office on a random Friday for seemingly no reason.

What's your first reaction? A chill in your stomach. Butterflies in flight, soaring. Fingers gripping tight to the fabric of your pants. Heart racing in your chest. Feeling dizzy. Lightheaded.

"Ummm. Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

"You can ask the principal. Move."

***

"Take a seat." The principal gestures with an open hand at the two chairs across the desk from her. She's staring right at you through the reading glasses hanging on her face. Her perfectly pressed suit makes her look powerful—imposing.

And this room? This tiny room, with its uncomfortable hard-backed chairs in front of the big imposing mahogany desk? That's as much of a psychological tactic as it is functional. Because you know this; everyone knows this: the people who sit in these chairs are invariably there to get told off.

This room is designed with a sole purpose; to cause you discomfort and make you feel small. Make you regret your actions. Remind you that this isn't a friend's house, and you don't get to act up here.

"Sit." She insists. The tone of voice is harsh, but you're certain there's an undertow of regret there too. You sit, almost falling into the chair in the most awkward and graceless way. It squeaks under the pressure, but thankfully, no sound comes out of your mouth. Not a peep.

"Effective today. You are expelled from the institution."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

"You will be escorted off the premises immediately. Your bags, belongings and text books will all be packed and returned to you at your registered address."

"You can't do this!" Can they? How is this fair? What went wrong?

"You will not be able to return to campus, as the academic board has taken into consideration the severity and inappropriate nature of the events that occurred on the grounds."

The severity and inappropriate nature...

Her words—they hit hard. Suck the air out of the room, leave your lips dry, and a strange emptiness in your belly. Your fingers grip tight to the armrests of the chair, fighting for a grasp on any emotion—any hope or words to grasp onto.

Nothing.

There is nothing you can say. No reason or explanation you could offer. Nothing.

The walls around the both of you stand, large, impenetrable and collapsing on you.

"The evidence produced to myself was conclusive. You and an unknown partner committed obscene acts last week in the school library. That is grounds for expulsion without appeal."

Unknown partner? Of course.

Now what?

coup de théâtre

Next part

#wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #ive smut #ive x reader #male reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #Yujin smut #Gaeul smut #Rei smut

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tojipie · 6 months

Text

shiu x fem!reader x toji

content: (fem reader, heavy smut, soo much praise, filming sex, spitroasting, eiffel tower position, threesome, blowjobs, face fucking, cumming on face, aftercare)

summary: just another day at work ! :) nothing raunchy going on here

“fuck, that’s perfect,” shiu mumbles, crouching to get a better shot of where you and toji meet.

the man rutting into you takes the note as a compliment, bucking his hips back to slam to the hilt. the guttural moan he draws out of you is nothing short of sinful, earning you a laugh from the cameraman.

“oh, the guys at home are gonna fucking love that,” he chuckles, standing to grab a shot of you laying face down, ass up on the leather couch.

a calloused hand raises your face to the camera, squeezing your cheeks into a pucker. you smile, taking note of your fucked out demeanor in the camera reflection.

“feel good, pretty girl?” toji asks, still gripping your face.

“mmhm,” you groan, making a show of rolling your eyes back into your head.

the cameraman looks more than pleased, palming himself over his cheap dress pants.

“such a treat to have in the studio, y’know that?” he wipes a mascara-filled tear while you look up at him for a brief moment. “driving me fucking crazy.”

the incessant pap-pap-pap of toji’s hips against your ass echo among the walls of the small casting room, nearly drowning out the praise with how hard he’s fucking you. still, you smile, letting the suit-clad cameraman brush your hair from your face.

“where’d you learn how to take dick like this, huh?” toji teases, switching his grip from your face to your shoulders. your scene partner uses his newfound leverage to pull you back onto his cock, groaning at the new angle.

“only like this with you,” you moan, clenching at the sounds of approval both men give you.

“what, you forget about me?” shiu asks, feigning jealousy for the sake of the scene.

toji leans forward, chest-to-back as he whispers something in your ear. hard, deep thrusts slow to a grind as he speaks to you. you nod, giggling at shiu’s pointed look of confusion.

“what’s wrong?” the cameraman mouths, moving to turn the camera off. you beckon him over to the couch instead, jolting from the pick-up of your scene partner’s thrusts.

the two men share a look as you readjust the camera, gauging the shot in the crystalline glint of the lens. perfect, you think. he was going to love this.

deft hands make haste with his belt, undoing the buckle ever so slowly. the two of you lock eyes for just an instant as his face contorts into a grin, setting the camera on his shoulder to throw his belt off to the side.

“oh i get love too now?” he teases, unbuttoning his bottoms and letting you get to work. his ironed suit jacket hits the floor, dress shirt half open.

“you’ve fucked her before genius,” toji adds, slowing the pace of his thrusts to let you work on the cameraman. he was right, off and on camera even.

shiu’s hard, unbearably so when you free him from his boxers and take him into your mouth. you can practically feel how difficult it is for him to not blow his load right then and there, especially after watching you and toji go at it for half an hour with no stimulation of his own.

“hah fuck— she knows what i like, right?” the question is rhetorical, he wants you to take the bait.

and take the bait you do, pulling off his dick just enough to swirl your tongue around his aching tip.

the noise you earn is more than pornographic, it’s downright sinful, egging you on as you move to take him to the base.

“you seein’ this?” shiu gasps, panning the camera up to toji who has since stopped fucking you to watch. thick, deft fingers come up to rub at your clit instead, making up for the lost simulation.

shiu’s free hand reaches down to nestle into your hair, pulling taught. a quick look to make sure the camera lines up is all he gives you before deft hips snap forward, fucking your throat with urgency.

the two men share a look briefly, chuckling as toji finally ramps up the pace again. thick, hot lengths penetrate you from either side, overloading your brain with pleasure.

“look up at the lens for me baby,” shiu gushes, losing his grip on your hair to cradle your cheek in his palm. you push back on the cock currently pummeling your walls, eagerly groaning for the camera.

“aww there we go, always our favorite star.”

the praise goes right to your head, throat opening up to allow more of his length in. he hisses at the stimulation, grumbling a soft “fuck this,” before setting the camera down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“oh, that’s a good fucking shot,” toji comments, pleased at the new camera angle. the thought of the studio’s loyal fanbase getting to watch you get spit-roasted by the hottest business partners in the industry pushes you closer to the edge.

“fuck, there.” shiu groans, pulling himself from your throat with an obscene squelch. a whoop rings out from behind you, no doubt from toji as viscous ropes of cum paint your cheeks— you swear you hear them high-five each other.

“shit, sorry about the mess,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, tapping the head on your closed lips with a fucked-out smile.

salty cum floods your tastebuds as you work to clean his manhood off, pulling back with an audible pop and a smile. “s’ okay shiu.”

“that’s talent right there,” the camera man comments, clearly pleased with your performance. shiu tucks himself back into his dress pants, quietly motioning for you and toji to switch positions.

the raven-haired man wastes no time lifting you into the air, thick hands situated under your thighs for support.

the position alone might have gotten you close enough to come had he still been inside you. you’re held against his standing body only by the hands under your legs, back-to-chest as you face the camera.

you hike your legs up, locking eyes with shiu as you’re lowered onto toji’s dick a final time.

the stretch is absolutely obscene, filling you to the brim over and over again as he thrusts into you.

“perfect, perfect guys,” shiu leans closer to get a better shot of your face. “just like that.”

“you wanna tell everybody at home where you want it?” toji asks, biting your shoulder for good measure.

“inside—please.” you sigh, laughing at the obscene groan that sounds from behind the camera. shiu reaches down to rub your swollen clit for you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

hot seed floods your body a second time, warming you from the inside out. the things toji pants into your ear are obscene, overwhelming your senses while shiu’s hand deals out tiny pats to your clit.

you both sink onto the couch for the final time, the soft leather cushions embracing your tired bodies. shiu approaches with the camera, flipping through a couple of scenes to seek your shared approval.

you sit quietly as you're wiped down with a wet towel, still attached to toji at your most intimate points.

“tired angel? need to wash off?” he asks, maneuvering you on his dick to straddle him.

“yes please,” you mumble happily, resting your head on his shoulder. two sets of hands gently caress your body, wiping the last drops of fluid from your sweaty skin.

“you’re gonna make us all millionaires, i swear,” shiu mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before stepping into the bathroom to draw you a bath.

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honeyhotteoks · 4 months

Text

this night together - in their hands (j.yh, s.mg, p.sh, c.sn)

a 'this night together' deleted scene: in their hands

summary: chapter twelve of this night together from the boys perspectives, if you haven't read that yet, go here and read that first.

warnings: every warning that applies to chapter twelve, plus a lot of violence. blood, fighting, descriptions of body parts breaking, ideations of killing, and a lot of internal panic and emotion.

notes: this deleted scene is entirely dedicated to the person who commented and said it would be interesting to see chapter twelve from the boys perspective. i've never written from their povs before, so i hope this still flows well and feels good, but i couldn't get that thought out of my mind. i pretty much wrote this in one sitting and only edited it once..... so i hope it doesn't disappoint but i really just wanted to share it with you all.

there are some things that will be covered in chapter thirteen that are getting lightly spoiled here, but for the purpose of consistency i'm going for it.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader plus alpha!san x alpha! seonghwa

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 7.8k

Yunho feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the air around him shift just enough to make his stomach tight about three seconds before he hears your scream. He doesn’t need to think through if it’s you or someone else, he feels it in his gut like a brick and he’s scrambling to his feet so fast his brain feels sluggishly behind.

“Something’s wrong,” He manages as he starts to move, but Mingi is already gone like a flash and he follows at breakneck speed behind his best friend.

His heart feels heavy in his chest, his mouth is dry, and in the seconds it takes to run from the back office to the far studio rooms, he starts to realize that there is something very, very wrong with his omega.

Footsteps behind him don’t deter him, his eyes are steady on Mingi’s back.

“What the fuck was that?” San.

“y/n,” Seonghwa, but Yunho stops listening the minute he watches Mingi push in the door to the practice room, the sound of it as it swings back on its hinges and collides with the wall stark and sharp. They take in so many little things at once before adrenaline pumps through their brains and throws them all forwards into action.

Mingi catalogs Minseok’s hands, one sunken into the back of your hair and pulling your head to the side, the other pressing you back into the wall at your chest. His knee is pressed between your thighs and the straps of your top are roughly wrenched to the side to bear the length of your throat.

All Yunho can see is your face and everything in him is suddenly so full of cold fear. You look so blank, your body unmoving against the mirrored wall and palms upturned in submission. For a single second he thinks he’s lost you already, that the strange metallic taste in his mouth is the scent of your blood from Minseok’s successful claim and something strange and panicked bubbles out of his chest. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up and to realize it's you, the metallic taste isn’t iron at all; it's ripe tannins, over-steeped tea, bitter and sudden and pulsating your fear and panic through the room.

Mingi moves first. “Get the fuck off her!” His hands close over Minseok’s neck and shoulder, wrenching him backwards with a curt jerk of his arms.

Your body tips sideways, but your face is still empty and Yunho’s mouth is so full of dry, acerbic chamomile and he can’t catch you, he can’t do anything. Everything goes absolutely silent in his mind.

His fist connects with Minseok’s cheek first, but it doesn’t feel good enough. Mingi hauls him back up and Yunho throws a cross hard and with sure direction and then he feels the crunch of bone under his knuckles as Minseok’s nose snaps, the blood quick as he shouts and reaches to clutch at his face.

If there’s one thing alphas typically aren’t good at it’s de-escalation, and whatever primal release of hormones his broken nose unlocked, Minseok shoves Mingi off and comes back up swinging.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yunho narrowly misses the return shot, dipping to the side, and hands once again close down on Minseok, the combined weight of San and Seonghwa pressing him down towards the floor.

“You broke my fucking nose!” Minseok scrambles against them.

“Stay down,” San presses his knee square between Minseok’s shoulder blades and drops his weight.

“Fuck you!”

Yunho drops fast, locking his hand over the back of Minseok’s neck to press his face into the wood floor and help hold him down.

Mingi stumbles forwards after being pushed off balance, but then his eyes flick up past the scuffle and he sees you. You’re lying flat on your back on the practice room floor, eyes vacant and unfocused on the white ceiling, your leg bent in a strange position, one that can’t be comfortable but still you don’t move.

He knows it all at once.

“Oh, God,” His stomach turns as he ignores the writhing alpha on the floor and the others doing their best to pin him down so he can skid to your side and drop to his knees.

Yunho can’t see you from his vantage point, he’s holding Minseok and facing the opposite direction and that wall of the practice room doesn’t have any mirrors to guide him, “Mingi, what? What’s going on?”

“Baby,” Mingi’s so quiet as he shifts forwards, but Yunho hears it.

“Is she alright?” Yunho can’t wait, he twists around and loses his steady grip on Minseok, but he has to know, “Mingi! Seriously, is she,”

Mingi’s hands cup your cheeks, and he studies your empty expression for a moment but he doesn’t need to, “Jesus,” he manages, “he put her in subspace,”

“He did what?” Seonghwa’s voice is sharp.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Mingi’s something else entirely when he’s angry, really and truly angry, and he has Minseok right where he wants him in a second. He cuts through the other alphas in a flash, rolling Minseok onto his back and straddling the smaller man’s hips to pin him in place. His fist has never felt as good as this moment, cracking across this coward’s teeth and splitting his skin again, and again, and again.

The sound of your whimper only makes it feel better.

Yunho suddenly and with perfect clarity knows what to do. In this moment you need him, even if you’re not in the presence of mind to ask, he knows. He looks you over fast as he slides close to you, relief flooding him when he sees the unbroken skin of your neck. He’ll process the redness later, the wet glisten of saliva over your gland, but his first conscious thought is that he’s strangely grateful for Minseok’s sadistic approach to claiming you against your will. He thought he had time to savor you, and those seconds of his carelessness saved your life.

Despite your blank eyes, tears slip from the corners and snake down into your sweat-damp hair, and Yunho watches the quiver of your lip, the way your whole body seems to tremble right from its very center despite how still you really are. He drops his head to the side and calls back to the others, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,”

“Mingi,” San is wrapped around his friend’s back, trying to pull his arms into his chest, “Mingi, stop! Mingi, you’ll kill him, man, stop!”

Minseok groans, spitting blood onto the practice room floor with choke, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck,”

“He,” Mingi’s voice is tight, “you saw what he did,”

Minseok whines again, “Rut, it’s my rut,”

Mingi’s nose crinkles at that and he has half a mind to keep swinging but San’s arms tighten, banded around him now and he lets him keep him still.

“I know,” San soothes, ignoring Minseok and staying focused on his friend, “but she’s safe now,”

“I,” Mingi breathes, but a voice breaks through the fray.

“I called the police!” Everyone’s heads snaps up at the sound of Dahan in the doorway, her eyes shining and terrified, “they’re on their way…. I… I’ll get an ambulance too,”

“Good,” San nods, “go wait for them out front, Dahan, tell them to hurry,”

Her sneakers squeak on the hardwood as she darts away, her cellphone pressed against her ear.

“We got him,” Seonghwa interjects, locking his hands down on one of Minseok’s arms, “San, help me get him to the office,”

Everyone hears the soft, panicked noise that bubbles from the back of your throat.

“G-go,” Mingi pushes himself back off Minseok’s hips and San finally releases his arms, “get him out of here,”

San yanks Minseok up off the floor and winds an arm under him to hold him steady, Seonghwa on the opposite side so they can drag him up the hall to the back office.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa manages, “please take care of her,”

He nods once, annoyance bristling under his skin. Of course he will, you're his omega and no one, no one will ever care for you like him and Yunho. Even if you never want to talk to him again, even if he has to watch you go and let you live your life some other way with some other alpha, somehow he knows that truth down to his very soul.

As Mingi returns to your side, Seonghwa allows his eyes to wander. He’d been trying to look anywhere else but you since he made it into the room, too afraid that he’d see the evidence of a violent claim on one of his best friends, too afraid he’d lost you. He’s never put an omega into subspace before, not even when they’ve wanted to be there, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see anything but your empty eyes when he thinks of it.

The last thought he has as he rounds the corner is that the man in his arms used to be his teammate, but now he thinks he’s as good as dead.

Minseok groans between him and San and he can’t help but tighten his grip on the man just to make it hurt a little bit more.

He groans again, but this time San’s the one who stops dead, “Stop whining,” his voice is cutting, “you don’t get to complain after what you’ve done,”

A little huff of air passes through Minseok’s lips, “Some alphas you are,”

“Excuse me?” San’s fingers tighten on Minseok’s arm where he still holds him upright.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s on offer,” Minseok says it like it’s obvious, “isn’t that right, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa’s stomach goes icy and he’s not really the type to get into a physical fight, but this? This is something altogether different. He has him back up against the wall of the hallway with a sharp knee to his gut, and then his mind goes absolutely blank. He’s never felt rage like this, true and deep compelling retribution singing through his blood and he just can’t help himself.

“She’s a person,” Seonghwa lands a swift kick to the man’s ribs as he lets him drop to the floor, “and you’re a fucking waste of an alpha,”

“Hwa,” San’s voice is low and calm, but he ignores it.

Another kick, another. He feels ribs give way to make space for his rage, “Stand up if you’re such a big man,”

Minseok groans again.

“You’re alpha enough to terrify an omega,” Seonghwa spits, “come on, get up, try and terrify me,”

He’s coughing now, fingers gripping the cold hard floor beneath him, “P-please,”

“What was that?” Seonghwa lands a stiff punch to his gut.

Minseok curls in on himself with a cry, “Please, you know what, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said,”

“I’d keep your mouth shut,” San again, but Seonghwa can’t conceive of where he is or what he’s doing, his eyes are so singularly focused on this man.

“It was,” Minseok coughs, blood across his lips, “the rut, I just lost it, you know how the haze is,”

“I don’t know a thing about how you are,” Seonghwa drops another punch.

“No, no!” Minseok shrieks at the sensation of another rib popping.

“Hwa,”

Minseok’s voice is getting threadier, “y/n, she,”

Seonghwa’s hand redirects, a sharp strike across his face as he descends on the man in earnest, “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,”

He loses count of the number of punches it takes for Minseok’s jaw to pop and his eyes to roll back, and San knows he should have stopped it all sooner, but there’s a part of him that wanted to watch this man suffer too.

Seonghwa is shaking, blood spattered across his gray sweatpants, smears darting up the sleeves of his white shirt. The soft skin of his knuckles is split open and angry, and San thinks if it was possible to love someone’s hands more, he does. San curls his body around Seonghwa from behind, but unlike Mingi, Seonghwa allows his arms to be pulled in by his sometimes lover.

“Jagi,” San whispers low in his ear so only he can hear, “come back,”

Minseok is still, his eyes closed, “Sannie,” Seonghwa’s voice cracks, “w-what did I do? Is he dead?”

“No,” San squeezes him, “he’s just knocked out. An ambulance is coming, you did nothing wrong.”

“What did I do?” Seonghwa asks again, his voice small, and San knows he has to take care of things now.

San pulls Seonghwa up to stand, turning him physically away from the bloodied man on the floor, “Jagi, come away with me, alright?”

“What did I do?”

“You’re in shock,” San says softly, “but I’m here,”

“What did I do?” He repeats, empty as San steers him towards the back office. He’s never been in a fight, he’s never hurt someone like that in his life. He’s not prepared for the way that the feeling of a body under his angry hands replays on a loop in his mind, he didn’t know he was capable of things like that.

“Shh,” San bids him as he gets him directed into a seat, “I’ll be right back, baby, but I need to take care of something first.”

Seonghwa is vaguely aware of a shout from the far practice room, and down the length of the hall he finds Minseok’s body again with his eyes.

San steps cleanly into his eyeline to break his gaze, “Stay right here, just breathe.”

He manages to nod, and then San is gone and the door is shut. He wants to cry.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tone is not something Mingi has ever enjoyed using. He’s tried it, of course, every alpha has even when they say they haven’t. It’s natural, it’s a part of growing up, he just always hated the way tone seemed to change every boy around him. Mingi remembers the first time he ever tried it, in the mirror in the emptiness of his childhood home. His voice broke a little later than the other boys around him, but when it did it dropped fast and deep in the smack center of his chest.

He remembers his middle school teacher’s eyebrows drawing high when he said hello to her the next day. He remembers how she smiled and the way she said - Maybe you’ll make a good alpha afterall.

He started to speak less and less after that. He practiced at home in the mirror just to understand the shape of his voice like that, but unlike some of the other boys who couldn’t help but torment with their tone, he knew what it could do. Yunho was the first boy he ever met that didn’t need to use it to command respect on the school yard, and when Yunho swung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and said he was with him, he got respect too. No one asked why he was so quiet after Yunho, they finally just let him be.

Mingi hasn’t used tone since he was maybe sixteen, joking around with Yunho to make each other laugh trying to stay up late on a summer’s night. But an alpha never forgets how to do it, and Mingi just has to let it come.

He’s crouched over your prone body now, his hands holding your face steady as he tries to get your eyes to focus on his. Yunho is practically a knot of panic next to him, but he can’t focus on him when he knows he has to focus on you to pull you out from under. He doesn’t know what Minseok said to you to put you this deep into headspace, but he knows he should have killed him for it.

He watches tears track silently down your temples and over his shaking fingers as Yunho begs him, “Why isn’t this working?”

“I’m not sure,” He answers quietly, but he knows exactly why, he just doesn’t for the life of him want to do it, so he tries one more time with his normal voice, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,”

People respond to their designations, it’s natural, and in a state of submission like this the possibility that you’d be able to latch onto the word ‘omega’ alone is certainly possible. The noise you make is thready and tight, but at least Mingi knows he has your ear now.

“Come up now,” He repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega,”

He might be able to get you up without using tone, but he doesn’t know for sure. You don’t make a single sound in response to his last plea, and suddenly he can’t stop it, he can’t lose this one chance of your conscious mind floating close enough to the surface.

He takes a low inhale, letting the otherworldly calm fill his chest, the familiar feeling of his alpha tone building in his lower throat and then he says it, “Don’t disobey your alpha.”

Your eyes finally flick to his, pupils dilating as you focus on Mingi’s face.

Yunho draws in a sharp breath.

Mingi remains passive, he doesn’t let himself feel the joy yet of knowing you’re okay, he has to get you there first. He needs you awake, talking, crying, screaming, anything to tell him that you’re here. He holds your eyes steady, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it.” He hates this part, the way an alpha’s bark can make an omega snap to attention, but he almost has you back. Shifting closer he levels his voice more and gives you a clear and present order, “Come. Up.”

Mingi watches your face break from cold blankness, grief and panic etched into the lines on your forehead and by your eyes, your hands reflexively jerking up to defend yourself like it was your last thought before you lost the ability.

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, and he watches you start to curl in on yourself.

He’s not thinking anymore really, he just can’t let you hide away from them, and he pulls your body up into his shaking arms, “You’re here? You’re with us?”

His name on your lips.

Your body is vibrating with panicked sobs, and he feels you claw against him like you want to crawl into his chest, pushing your body against his with desperate heaving breaths. For a moment he’s so worried that his own use of alpha tone might have hurt you more than helped you and his mind spins.

Yunho drops a heavy hand on Mingi’s thigh, a steadying comfort bringing him straight back to center.

Mingi drops his face to your hair and strokes your back, “Shh,” his body rocks naturally to soothe you, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“She’s bleeding,” The edge in Yunho’s voice scares him, and Mingi snaps to attention.

His hands search over your body, looking for the source of pain, trying to find the problem that he can fix so you’ll just stay whole and here and with him.

“Here,” Yunho says, stopping Mingi’s frantic movements, “it’s not too bad.”

It’s not, rationally he knows that by the small amount of blood smeared across Yunho’s fingers, but Mingi’s never seen you bleed before and his stomach knots up tightly in rage.

Mingi holds you while Yunho steps in, talking you through the moment as you come back to your senses. He can barely breathe at the way your body shakes in his arms, your nails digging into his thigh where you grip him unconsciously, and he hears your fast breath and the quick step flutter of your heart, but he can’t move. His hands keep making fists, he wants so badly to stalk down the halls and find this man. Nothing he did was good enough, not now that he’s hearing you cry. You were never supposed to be afraid like this, not ever.

He comes back into his body when you pitch the contents of your stomach into the little plastic trash can that Yunho pushes into your hands, the sound of your tight wretch shocking enough to pull him back down.

He gathers your hair back, “Okay,” he tries to soothe you, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” You manage, and Mingi’s mind flashes with static images. His hand in your hair, on your chest, lips, tongue, teeth.

Mingi and Yunho both hold you steady while you heave again, “The things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho tries now, “you’re safe, none of that is true.”

“He talked to me like a dog, and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

Mingi finds his voice too quickly, “No.”

The way you twitch under his hands makes him sick and he softens his voice as best he can despite the curl of anger in his belly, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else.”

Yunho’s hand lays over his on your back.

“You didn’t let him do anything,” He needs you to understand.

“I’ve never,” You heave again, nothing in your body this time.

Mingi’s ears are ringing, but Yunho’s soothing you now like he’s so good at doing and you’re pushing back the plastic bin, but then you slide out of his arms and onto the wood floor and he doesn’t know if he should reach for you or not.

“I’ve never been in subspace,” He hears you say.

“You’re not there now,”

“I don’t remember, it’s so muddled, I can’t remember,”

Mingi watches you frantically check your body and he wishes he had had the foresight to fix your shirt from the way that it was pulled to the side over the cap of your shoulder because maybe you wouldn’t have had to remember that and he could have saved you this one small thing.

Yunho dips lower in front of you to meet your eyes when he says, “What can’t you remember?”

Mingi watches you reach up your hand, desperate to know. He remembers suddenly the moment in his bed all those months ago when you mistakenly thought in the haze of heat Yunho might have claimed you. Rage and sick guilt swirl in his gut and then he hears you ask it, soft and terrified, “Did he… did we?”

“No,” Yunho brings you right out of that terror spiral and back to the moment, “absolutely not.”

Mingi hates the smell of your fear and he’s learning that he hates the way you look when you’re scared. He never wants to see you like this again for as long as he lives.

“All I can smell his him,”

He has to get out of this room.

“I can’t even breathe,”

Mingi knows you need someone calm right now, someone centered and capable, but if he has to feel you shaking on his lap again he might just snap. His eyes flick to Yunho, “Take her,”

There’s a question in his friend’s eyes but Yunho’s careful not to say it out loud.

“I’m getting water,” Mingi says, and then he’s moving.

In the hall his breath comes back in heaving gulps and he nearly slips in a little pool of blood on his frantic way to the locker room.

San is up the hall, in front of the closed back office door with his cell phone tucked tightly against his ear but at the sight of Mingi he drops it immediately and presses it to his chest, “How is she?”

“Awake,” Mingi responds, “alert,”

“Herself?” San asks.

Mingi nods, “Where is he?”

He’s not sure it’s actually best for him to know that information at this time, but he had to ask anyway. San nods his head to the right towards a smaller studio space, “He’s unconscious, don’t even think about it.”

“I’m… I’m not, I,” Mingi feels dizzy, he needs to sit before gravity makes him.

“I have to,” San shakes the phone, putting it back to his ear, “she’s okay, I’m telling you, she’s okay.”

Mingi can’t be here, he can’t be anywhere. He pushes himself to the connecting hallway that leads to the locker room.

“Wooyoungie,” He hears San say from behind him, “listen to me, she’s okay, I promise you.”

Mingi cannot understand how this day went from normal, hopeful about Saturday, to catastrophically terrible in every way imaginable.

In the locker room he collapses on one of the wooden benches, his mind pulsing with questions. He needs to get back to you, but he can’t let you see him like this, he knows he’d scare you after everything you’ve just been through. He wonders if this is a panic attack.

The thought that presses into him sideways and buries deep in his brain is sickening. He left you alone with that man for three months. He was traveling, and laughing, and dancing, and eating stupid junk food thinking his biggest problem was whether or not you might be into Seonghwa. He was so selfish. He blanches when the next thought occurs to him. Have you been afraid of Seo Minseok this whole time, afraid in ways you felt you couldn’t tell them?

Mingi rips open his locker and pulls out anything he can find to muffle his bubbling voice, a sweatshirt and a towel stuffed tightly against his mouth to capture his angry scream. He has to get this out of his body, and he has to get back to you, but he’s so, so angry in a way that feels uncontrollable.

His body collides with the locker door, denting the middle inwards enough that it no longer properly latches shut, but he doesn’t care. The pain spiking up the side of his arm is good, it’s real, and it pumps his brain full of all the chemicals he needs to focus.

He puts any thought of going across the hall into the practice room where Minseok lays unconscious. He ignores the little voice that says he would be justified in finishing him off. He forces himself to think about your face, your smile when he saw you at the party for the first time in months.

He holds that image while he moves quickly, grabbing a few water bottles and turning right down the hallway towards you and away from every impulse flicking through his body. He stops short at the door when he hears Yunho’s voice, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

He breathes through the spike of anger as he hears your soft voice in response. He hates that you’re still afraid, even with him here, but he knows he has to show you for you to believe it.

“You are completely safe,” Yunho says, and at this moment Mingi is so grateful for Yunho’s steadfast calm.

He takes one more deep, deep breath, and pushes through the doorway with as much softness as he can muster.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

San ignores his phone. He’s told Wooyoung everything he can about what happened and that you’re safe and now he has other problems to deal with.

As Mingi disappears into the locker rooms, Dahan races back through the hallway, her eyes darting down at the puddle of blood, “Oh, god,”

“It’s his,” San assuages her fears immediately, “are they on the way?”

“Yes, I told them to hurry,” She nods, “does he need an ambulance too?”

“The ambulance is for him,” San says, clearing his throat, “can you wait for them and show them where to come? I need to,” he jerks his head towards the back office.

“Yes, yes, of course,”

“And Dahan,” He remembers himself, “don’t go into studio two, okay?”

Her eyes flick to the door, “Is he in there?”

San nods, “He’s hurt, but still, he’s not safe to be around, okay?”

Dahan might be a beta, but he’s not taking any risks where Minseok is concerned, not after he heard the way he talked so casually about what he did to you. She nods, stepping backwards down the hall once more.

With everything taken care of, he can finally focus.

San pulls open the door to the back office and Seonghwa jumps, his eyes going from unfocused to focused in a second. “It’s only me,” San says softly, “I’m here now,”

“San,” Seonghwa’s eyes well up with tears, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,”

San shakes his head, dropping to crouch in front of him, and he gently lays his hands on Seonghwa’s knees, “There’s nothing wrong with you at all,”

“I should be helping,” Seonghwa swallows tightly.

San shakes his head again, “Everything’s handled,” he says, brushing his hand over Seonghwa’s long black hair, “there’s nothing to do right now.”

“y/n?” Seonghwa murmurs.

“She’s awake,” San repeats Mingi’s words from a few moments ago, “alert, and she’s herself,”

“Thank god,” Seonghwa’s breath hitches, “and she’s alright? She’s not alone?”

“They’re with her,” San soothes him, cupping his cheek, “she’s right where she needs to be,”

“Good,” Seonghwa sinks back into his seat.

San lets his hand drop back to Seonghwa’s thigh, his phone once again buzzing incessantly in his pocket. He’s sure Wooyoung is frantic, but right now he needs to focus here on the man in front of him. Wooyoung will have to wait.

“Who’s calling?” Seonghwa nods towards San’s pocket.

“Woo,”

“You told him?” Seonghwa surmises.

“I thought she might need him,” San confesses softly, “I don’t know what an omega would want at a time like this… I wouldn’t know what to do,”

“You’re doing it now,” Seonghwa corrects, “you’re doing better than me,”

San squeezes Seonghwa’s knee, giving him the smallest shake of his head, he never was one to accept that kind of self deprecating talk and he’s not about to start now.

“I should,” Seonghwa starts to shift away from San and put space between them, but then he actually looks down at himself and his chest starts to pound, “oh, Jesus,”

He hadn’t properly looked, he hadn’t really taken it in until this moment. He’s never seen so much blood before, and his hands are shaking as he turns them over to see his stained palms.

“Shh,” San covers Seonghwa’s trembling hands with his own, “I’ve got you,”

“H-he’s alive, right?” Seonghwa can’t think of anything except the way Minseok’s jaw felt coming loose under his fist, “Sannie, did I kill him?”

“No, no,” San dips closer, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, “he’s fine, it looks worse than it is. You didn’t do that, you’d never do that, I know you,”

Tears pool in Seonghwa’s eyes, tracking down his cheeks quickly as he drops his head against San’s clean knuckles, “I thought about it,” his voice is tight with tears, “what does that make me?”

“Hey,” San moves in, pressing quick kisses along Seonghwa’s temple, any part of him that he can reach, “no, it makes you a person, alright? He did something awful to someone we love.” San squeezes his hands tight, “He hurt her, he could have claimed her, we all know what that means, okay? You were protecting her, you did nothing wrong,”

Seonghwa stills, letting his words sink in. He thinks about what an unwanted claim would have done to you, who you would have become.

“It wasn’t his rut either,” San leans his head against Seonghwa’s, his thumb caressing the back of his hand, “you know that’s just what these alphas say when they try to do what he did,”

“I don’t understand why he would try it here,” Seonghwa lifts up, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He thought we were all gone,” San says quietly, “I’m sure he thought y/n and maybe Dahan were the only ones working late. Yunho and Mingi had the back office door closed, I was in the gym, and you said you were leaving early. It was quiet,”

“He planned it, then,” Seonghwa’s stomach rolls.

“I think so,” San nods, “we just need the police to believe that.”

“They’re coming?” Seonghwa murmurs.

“Mhm,” San smiles, close lipped and then sighs, “jagi, I need you to do something for me,”

Seonghwa studies his face, he hasn’t heard San call him that outside of bed in so long, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

San sighs, eyes flicking away, “You know why,”

The feeling sits between them for a moment, and then Seonghwa nods, “What do you need me to do?”

“We need to get you out of these clothes,” San cups his cheek again, “and you need to wash your hands,”

“San,” Seonghwa’s jaw tightens, realizing what San is pushing him to do, “I’m not lying to the police,”

“It’s not lying,” San presses, “you’re just changing after work,”

“If I get in trouble for what I did, I’m not going to get caught lying on top of that,” Seonghwa murmurs, “I know what you’re trying to do, but think it through.”

San’s jaw tenses and relaxes and then he nods, “Alright, but I’m cleaning your cuts, and you’re not going to argue about that.”

Seonghwa smiles softly and nods, “Okay,”

San ignores the phone in his pocket again and finds the first aid kit in the cabinets, pulling out a pack of alcohol wipes and gauze. He doubles back for a water bottle and some paper towels, and then he pulls a chair close to Seonghwa to sit and take his hands back in his.

Seonghwa is quiet while San works. He uses the water and the paper towel to effectively wash the blood away from his palms and the alcohol wipes to clean the broken skin of his knuckles. He works on him quickly and quietly, and he fights the urge to kiss his broken skin when he’s finished, he’s gotten away with too much today already.

He holds Seonghwa’s hands in his, so much softer and more delicate than his. He thinks that after today he’ll have to take care to make sure he never has to use them in violence again. San thinks the next time he will do better, if Seonghwa ever has to kill, San will be the one to kill for him.

San smooths his thumbs over the backs of Seonghwa’s hands, and this time he does give into temptation. Dipping forward he presses a kiss to each of his palms.

“San,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, “we’re alright,”

“I know,” He whispers into the soft skin of the hands he misses so deeply, hands he aches for. If anyone ever touched him the way that Minseok touched you, he can’t even conceive of what he wouldn’t do.

His phone rings again, and this time he answers it.

“Now you answer?” Wooyoung’s voice is taut, “I’m downstairs,”

“I had things to take care of,” San sighs, standing and giving Seonghwa’s hand one final squeeze.

“I’m coming up,” Wooyoung ignores his excuse, “he better be in a fucking body bag when I get there,”

The line goes dead, and San steps into the hall. He takes quick stock. Minseok is still unconscious in studio two, he can hear the tone of your voice from down the hall mixed with Yunho and Mingi’s. The slick patch of blood on the tile is gone, and San wonders if Dahan had the same idea he did about cleaning up before the police arrive.

The door to the access stairs by the elevator swings open, Wooyoung looking wild and full of panicked rage, and San dives back into the chaos. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For the first time in his life, Yunho wishes he wasn’t the designated driver for everything. He wishes Mingi had a license. He wishes that after the most uncomfortable and awful hospital trip of his life he could have tossed Mingi the keys and told him to drive and climbed in the backseat with you. Instead he’s stuck in the driver’s seat again, trying to focus on the road but finding himself glancing up every few seconds to check his rear view mirror just so he can see you asleep with your head in Mingi’s lap.

“Green light,” Mingi murmurs with a nod of his head, and Yunho breaks his eyes away from the mirror to watch the road again and press the gas.

“Sorry,” He manages.

“I get it,” Mingi replies, his fingers slowly brushing along your temple, “I can’t believe she’s here either.”

“Is she sleeping?” Yunho checks.

“Mhm,” Mingi nods, “she’s out,”

Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, he hated having to wake you up with Mingi every few minutes on the way to the hospital when they weren’t sure if you had a concussion or not, he’s just happy you can actually get some rest if you need it.

“Yunho,” Mingi says quietly, a question in the lilt of his voice, “what did the police want to ask you?”

“Um,” His eyes flick to the mirror and then back to the road, “they wanted to talk to the owner, but Jaemin obviously wasn’t there,”

“Right,” Mingi nods.

“I don’t know,” Yunho admits, “San gave them my name and said I could give a statement about what happened,”

“Which was?” Mingi asks.

Yunho watches your face for a moment, but it’s clear you’re still deep asleep and he shrugs, “The truth, that we heard a scream and that when we went into the room we saw him attempting to hurt her. It was clear he was trying to force a claim and that she was in subspace, and that Minseok fought us while we tried to subdue him.”

“Do you think they believe that?” Mingi murmurs.

“They have to,” Yunho won’t let that thought enter his mind, he knows what Mingi’s implying, they both heard the way your conversation with the police went at the hospital, but he can’t entertain the thought that the police would side with anyone but you.

“Do they?”

“Not tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “not in front of her, she’s been through enough.”

Mingi stays quiet, and Yunho drives on.

When they pull into the alleyway that leads to their apartment, Yunho watches you start to stir. It’s like you have a sixth sense that the energy in the car is changing, and you make soft, sleepy noises as you come out of it.

Mingi runs a hand soothingly up and down your back, “We’re home, okay? You’re with us,”

Yunho watches the way you don’t respond. Your eyes look vacant again, unfocused and distant and when he pulls the car to a stop he watches the way you don’t wait to just step out yourself and start the familiar walk up to their front door.

He exchanges a fast look with Mingi, and they follow you at a little distance to keep the pressure off until the door’s unlocked and you’re stepping over the threshold. Everything about this is wrong. Not you back in their home, that’s never felt so right to Yunho in his life, but you look glassy and scared and he wants nothing more than to take it away.

“Hey,” He tries, waving a hand across your field of vision, “are you alright?”

Your eyes flick away from his, a pregnant pause between you before you look back up, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been awhile.”

He feels heat flood his cheeks, his ears warm. Of course you’re not alright, and he feels stupid and small at even asking the question. He feels foolish about every little thing until you walk down the hall and shut yourself away in the bathroom.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Mingi says suddenly, running a hand through his hair before moving towards the couch, “I still want to break something.”

“I know,” Yunho nods, sitting next to him on the sofa, his knee bouncing nervously.

Mingi shoots him a glance, his eyes flicking down to his knee, and Yunho freezes. They settle into the quiet of their apartment, and they listen. Yunho expects to hear you cry, something more than just the steady spray of the shower, but he doesn’t and that scares him more than anything.

“Should we call the others?” Mingi clears his throat after a while, “Woo or,”

“Seonghwa?” Yunho finishes his thought for him and then swallows tightly, “No, I, I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Me either,” Mingi nods.

“She wants to be here,” Yunho remembers the way you clung to his shoulders at the studio, begging for home, and maybe tomorrow you’ll regret that decision but he’s done trying to think for you.

“I know,”

“Let’s just let her be here then,” Yunho murmurs.

Yunho knows that Mingi doesn’t want to lose you just as much as he doesn’t. They agreed one night after just enough alcohol on tour how they felt, everything finally out in the open between them. They had never stopped and imagined a pack together, but they both know it feels right.

“We’re her friends,” Mingi reasons quietly.

“Friends,” Yunho nods, “and the fact that we’re both stupidly in love with her can wait,”

“Yep,” Mingi sighs, “I think we’ve gotten pretty good at that,”

Yunho huffs, a short breath of laughter through his nose and nods, “Yeah,”

The sound of the shower turning off draws both their gazes up and down the hall, and then Mingi stands, “I’m going to make up my room in case she wants it,”

Yunho watches him go. He listens to the stillness of the apartment around him.

Mingi comes back and you’re still in the bathroom. They make themselves scarce. They listen as you come out of the bathroom and go straight into Mingi’s bedroom. The door shuts tight. Yunho listens but he doesn’t hear the turn of the lock. The bed creaks, sheets rustle, and then all is quiet.

“What do we do now?” Mingi asks quietly.

Yunho’s eyes flick over the closed door down the hall, “We wait.”

Being pulled from sleep at four in the morning is never a good thing, but Yunho would put seeing you struggle through a night terror and a flash back at the absolute top of his most awful moments list. The way it took so much to get you to snap out of it and come back to them, the pile of Mingi’s bedding in the corner, the way your muscles stayed locked tight for minutes even with their arms around you.

Holding you now with Mingi he keeps thinking of the purple bruises that litter your skin from where you rubbed your glands raw. He’s a swirling mix of emotion, but the worst part of it is that there’s nothing left to do. He can’t channel it anywhere, there’s no threat except the one in your mind now, and he doesn’t know how to make that kind of threat recede.

He remembers the way you shrank back into his chest at the hospital at the glimpse of Minseok’s name on the hospital room door as you passed through to the exit. All he could do was wrap an arm around your body and try to steer you away, and he doesn’t know if that was even close to good enough.

His mind turns it all over as light starts to spread in the sky outside, and he feels the way you’re shifting in the bed getting closer and closer to sleep. He hopes you can all get a few more hours before the reality of whatever tomorrow is going to bring. Your lips move against Yunho’s chest and he doesn’t risk shifting a muscle so he can hear your quiet words in the dark. It’s faint, but he hears it when you whisper, “Don’t let me go,”

Yunho’s throat constricts, his eyes flooding with tears. He presses his eyes shut tight, trying to keep his breathing even and low so you don’t know he’s still awake. The weight of the night sinks into him, pushing against his chest and there are so many things he wants to say to you heavy on his tongue.

It doesn’t take long for your breathing to level out and your body to unspool and relax, they both feel it when you do, and Yunho takes a shaky wet breath now that he knows he can.

When he opens his eyes again it’s straight into Mingi’s and for some reason his friend’s unwavering gaze makes the tears come faster.

Mingi waits, and Yunho looks away in discomfort at the raw moment of exposure.

Quietly, and careful not to wake the woman in his arms, Mingi shifts closer to you and Yunho, his arm stretching across you both and settling on Yunho’s side.

“It’s okay,” Mingi murmurs quietly.

“How is this okay?” Yunho manages, getting his moment of overflowing emotion under control.

“She’s here,” Mingi says simply, “even if it’s just tonight,”

Yunho’s arms tighten around your sleeping form and he nods, “She’s here,”

Mingi presses a kiss to your hair and squeezes Yunho’s side just once, “Sleep,”

“What if she has another nightmare?” Yunho murmurs.

“I’ve got her,” Mingi assures quietly, “you sleep,”

You shift between them, winding your way deeper into Yunho’s embrace, and he passes a hand up and down your back until you sigh heavily against his skin. If this is all he has, he’s going to take it. He nods to Mingi, and despite the growing light leaking in through the curtains outside, sleep pulls him under.

Mingi stays awake for as long as he can stand watching over you both, but held in their arms you barely stir. There are no nightmares, no subspace to hold you under. With the birds starting to sing, Mingi falls asleep.

He wakes to the sound of a fist on their front door and the sinking feeling that last night might have really been their last with you. He hopes to god he’s wrong. He so badly wants to be wrong.

#SO I JUST HAD TO DO IT #honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #this night together fic #this night together deleted scene #ateez series #ateez fic #ateez ff #yunho fic #mingi fic #yungi fic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader

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inbarfink · 7 months

Text

It is actually super thematically important that the Gumlee Subplot is, like, the Fluffiest Fluffy Coffeeshop AU in existence.

Because the whole universe-ending danger Fionnaworld faces is, like, to me it reads very much as a metaphor for the value of art and creative works that are self-indulgent?

Like, the whole Problem is that Prismo is not supposed to use his powers of Creation for his own personal enjoyment - he’s only supposed to use it to grant Ironic Wishes for others. Metaphorically, I think this is like a Creative making art for a studio or some other kind or employer, or for the sake of some specific audience or something.

And while Prismo found some creative fulfillment in his job, he also wanted to make something for himself, something private, something self-indulgent. And thus Fionnaworld was born. A personal creative project made with no other consideration but the artist’s own sense of fun and pleasure.

Which is very appropriate considering how in the real world Fionna and Cake, while it grew into more than that, it was originally just the personal lil’ creative doodles of Natasha Allegri did for fun while she was working as part of the AT Crew.

In the eyes of the Scarab, and apparently the greater cosmological laws that he enforces - the existence of Fionnaworld is an ‘abomination’. Prismo shouldn’t be allowed to use his powers of creation for anything but his designated role of creating for the sake of others.

And it seems like the resolution of the whole Scarab and Prismo plot thread is going to be on some level a reinforcement of the value and importance of creative projects - or whole universes - that are born out of self-indulgence and a desire to have fun and nothing more. You know, maybe it's not the worst thing in the world for Prismo to do something for fun, Fionnaworld clearly grew into something more than just God's self-indulgent doodles... something like that...

So it seems only appropriate that our main representation of Fionnaworld once the plot kicks into gear, the thing that gives the viewers a face and a personal angle to the unfathomably monumental task of saving a whole universe - is a Fluff-tastic Coffeeshop AU.

In many ways the icon of silly indulgent fiction that exists just for personal pleasure.

Especially as it contrasts against the generally much darker and grimmer ‘Authorized Universes’ we’ve seen.

Of course, not everyone creating silly fanfics for just their own sake is gonna create peaceful low-conflict Modern AUs. I bet there’s tons of AT fans creating fanstuff for their own sakes that are going to make stuff that’s just as heavy and dark as Vampireworld or even Extinctworld. Sometimes self-indulgence looks like angst and pain.

Buuuutt, the Fluff-heavy fanfiction and Coffeeshop AUs are still associated with wish-fulfillment and self-indulgent fiction in a way that really feels thematically important.

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huhniebowl · 27 days

Text

French Toast?

dominic fike x reader

warning(s); none!

Listen to 7 hours when reading!:)

a/n: yeah, im whipping these mf's OUT! thank you for this yummy request!

this is short but fun. also calling myself out heavy here...i 100% went through both the justin bieber and bts phase...

*still editing this a bit, so bear with me!*

You don’t obsess.

You’ve never had a One Direction phase. You never had the primal urge to deck your walls with Justin Bieber posters, and you never succumbed to the fanfictions of BTS.

You’re firm on the narrative that obsessing over someone who has no idea who you are, a complete waste of time. So you never indulged.

So why is it that you’re leaning against a barricade, a sign below your feet with, “Dominic, play your unreleased shit!” written in big sparkly bubble letters.

Pierced tits showing nice and pretty under a fitted white t-shirt you made just for the show.

“Fuck me Dominic Fuck!” ironed on the front. His actual last name printed small and in parentheses under the second fuck.

Your wordplay landed perfectly. Other fans coming up to you with laughs and praise.

"You know," Ian, your best friend's boyfriend, begins, giving a playful glance as you slip your phone into your mini purse, "I still can't believe you've succumbed to this."

"Ian's got a point," Aria chimes in, leaning into him.

"You beat the One Direction phase, but this? This is the one you can’t beat?” She raises an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes.

"Fuck off," You start, uncrossing your arms and sliding your manicured nails into the pockets of your low-rise jeans, "This is perfectly normal, thank you very much. Mind your business."

You jut your hip out, and lean your weight to your right leg.

"Besides, I’d rather this than the Larry allegations.” You stick your tongue out.

Aria gasps, "You didn't!"

"Oh, she most certainly did," Ian confirms with a nod, stepping out of the way.

Before you can revel in your victory, Aria launches herself at you, locking you in a loose headlock. Laughter fills the air as she swings you around, and soon, the three of you are engrossed in conversation.

Occasionally pestering Ian to snap some photos of you and Aria as the field begins to fill up.

Amidst the chatter, you lose track of time.

Engaging with a girl behind you who complimented your shirt. You share a laugh with her as you recall having to fight with a 10-year-old for the last pack of sparkly iron-on letters at Michaels.

You’re handing her phone back with your number saved when the lights start to dim, and whip around to your bestfriend, smiling big.

"Oh my fuck, it's time, it's time!" You squeal, grabbing onto her arm.

Your heart races, pounding against your ribs, as adrenaline courses through your veins.

With the rest of the crowd, you scream at the top of your lungs, cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify the sound.

A single bulb illuminates the stage and outsteps Dominic. Bathed in golden light.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes widen at the sight of him so close.

He looks unreal.

Dominic extends his hands in his signature heart as the opening instrumental of "How Much Is Weed" begins to play.

You steal a glance at Aria, both of you screaming the first few lyrics together before dancing. Shaking your heads, and moving your hands as you rap the lyrics bar for bar.

Completely losing yourselves in the moment.

About 30 minutes into his set, Dominic launches into "7 Hours," your favorite off the album.

Aria shouts, and it rings with your own, as you both grasp each other's shoulders in anticipation. She knows you’ve been waiting for this one.

"I just wish that you would move round me, move round me," Dominic's voice fills the air, wisping goosebumps over your body.

You find yourself captivated.

Unable to put into words how hearing the song live feels. There's a rawness to his voice that transcends the studio version and you wish you could forever hear it like this.

Closing your eyes, you give in to the pulsating rhythm, slowly spinning in a circle and moving your hips in a way that's usually reserved for after a few tequila shots.

The new friend you made earlier joins in, hyping you up alongside Aria, while the golden stage lighting envelops you in its warm glow.

It's a sensation you haven't felt in ages, an intoxicating blend of music and friends. You feel comfortable in your skin, like you're hottest here, and you poke your ass out just a bit during your last twirl.

As the chorus returns, you throw your hands up in the air and lean against both girls, belting out the lyrics with all your heart while swaying to the beat.

As you open your eyes, momentarily blinded by the lights, a chill runs through you.

You find yourself locking eyes with Dominic, his gaze piercing and intense as he sings. His eyes linger on your face before trailing down to your body, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips as if he's reading the words on your shirt.

Just as quickly as the moment began, Dominic diverts his attention back to the crowd.

You try to shake off the idea that he was actually looking at you. There’s no way, you tell yourself; surely, he was just scanning the audience, his eyes drifting past you to someone else in the sea of fans.

But then, he glances over at you again, and again, and another time after that.

It became clear that he’s singling you out amidst the sea of faces. His eyes, pools of depth and intensity, captivating you with each lingering look.

Entire verses pass with your eyes locked in a silent exchange, a language of longing? Desire? You're not sure, but you know you don't want him to look at anyone else around you like this.

You're in awe by the intensity of his attention.

Sooner than you'd like, his second segment ends. And the world that was created just for you two, shatters.

You let out a breath and try to calm how jittery you feel. Nerves running wild as you get ready to hold up your little sign, and brace yourself for what's to come as Dominic prepares to address the audience.

"There's a girl up here," he laughs, "Who, I swear I locked eyes with for the majority of that set." The crowd erupts into screams.

Glancing over at your best friend, your eyes widen. When you turn back toward the stage, Dominic is indeed looking right at you.

"What's your name?" He asks, bending down on the edge of the stage and holding his mic out to you.

With your stomach in knots, you manage to speak your name into the mic without stuttering, thanks to the grace of whatever god is out there.

Dominic attempts to repeat it but ends up completely butchering it. Seeing your laugh as you shake you head, he places the mic back to your lips, clearly hears your name, and pronounces it correctly.

"That's a beautiful name," He grins, "Not as beautiful as you though." The screams ring louder and your eyebrows raise.

You're not sure if you're still breathing at this point. Dominic backs up towards his mic stand and leans on it.

"Her shirt says 'Fuck me Dominic Fuck,'" He announces with a shake of his head, "My last name in the tinest font possible under the fuck that should be Fike." The crowd roars, and Dom lets out a breathless chuckle.

"I don't know," He drawls out your name, his voice carrying a playful tone as he sways with his mic stand, commanding the stage with effortless charm.

"I'd be down, but at least take me out to dinner first?" He tilts his head with a simper, sending the fans into a frenzy.

Aria curses excitedly, her phone camera poised to capture the entire moment.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you find your voice again and begin shouting something back, prompting Dominic to step forward, thrusting the mic in your direction.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Let's go get french toast after this," You offer. "The thick kind, not the thin shit."

His laughter rings out boyishly and he throws his head back.

It's a sound that makes your stomach flutter, the only sound you ever want to hear.

"I'm not usually like this, I swear," Dominic points, his movements fluid as he untangles himself from his orange mic cord.

"ButImdownmeetmebackstage. Okaynextsongletsgo!" He talks so fast that you almost didn't hear, and your mouth drops before you laugh.

It's loud, and unfiltered, and you just can't believe your life right now.

Especially when one of the stage crew members hands you a backstage lanyard over the barricade. Your ears ring at the amount of screams that comes from the fans around you.

For the umpteenth time tonight, Dominic catches your eye, and with a wink he launches into AntPile.

You blow him kiss, and goofily wink back.

You know he saw it.

151 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇 • 𝕰. 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 : chapter one

synopsis: for as long as he could remember, his life was music and his money, no time for anything else. The only love he had ever known was the studio. That was until one night, he met his greatest muse thus far.

cw: insta model/musician black !fem reader, a very antisocial engineer/musician eren (he’s seen as kind of an asshole but he’s really sweet) no hardcore smut for this portion! just some kissing, fondling and mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs, profanity of course, inappropriate behavior

wc: 6.4K

notes from the author 📝 : So I'm going to be turning one of my first stories I posted on here, Studio, into a full series. I’ve written a million drabbles for this so I’m finally finishing the actual first chapter. Don’t know how many parts it will have but fuck it, we ball.

“Yeah, I don’t care much for any of this..the whole club scene like that. Truth is, I rather be anywhere else but I gotta get my money and something tells me you would too..so, let’s make the best of it and get this bag together.”

next chapter

They say that music is the one thing that makes the world go around..that without it, life would be a mistake.

a lot of people can’t even function if they don’t have their favorite song blaring through the speakers on the way to work..or in their headphones while trying to manage the school day. Others couldn’t imagine a gym session without that one playlist to get them pumped.

and for one man…

“You can’t be serious right now.”

it was his entire life!

“What do you mean, bro? This shit gas!”

the brunette released a heavy winded sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. His glasses were hanging from his face as well. Anyone who knew him was quite familiar with that look and it wasn’t a good one.

another male with glistening chains, gold slugs and a black hoodie stood above him from the circulating chair. To say he had irritated his producer was an understatement but it wasn’t a rare occurrence in the slightest.

“Bro..we’ve been here for five hours..you show up late and then you bring me this? You’re just fucking with me, right?”

Eren Jaeger, or E.J..a name very respected and revered in the music industry. For as long as he could remember, music was his first and only love in his young life..if there was an instrument to be played, he not only sought out to learn it but master it as well.

if there was a song he liked, best believe he was going to end up inevitably out singing the artists themselves.

despite the fact that the career path wasn’t fully backed by his Ivy League, white coat wearing, scholar of a father, he was determined to turn that childhood passion into a very successful and lucrative dream.

working religiously to fine tune his playing skills, along with his voice. He practically resided in the chorus and band classroom; perfecting his craft in all areas..drums, guitar, horns, piano, whatever you could think of.

he became so obsessed in fact that it left little room in his life for extracurricular activities, including a lot of friends or dates.

writing lyrics during class, skipping lunch to go toy around in the library with his laptop create beats..he was a natural born prodigy. Fast forward to college, where he made the very easy choice to study music engineering and mastering…

it was one night while he was working at a shoe store to fund his education that his coworkers decided to record him singing and rapping (all free-styled by the way) while he was doing inventory as a joke. Little did they know, they had just propelled him right into stardom.

coupled with his good looks, sultry lyrics and popularity, everyone wanted their chance to work with him.

there was only one tiny problem..as much as Eren loved creating music, he despised the spotlight even more! How ironic, right? He had no desire whatsoever to be anyone’s next Bieber or Post Malone.

that fame shit was good and dead to him. He truly believed there was no point in making his art to keep up with trends and other artists if your heart wasn’t in it. Not only that, the attention was insufferable.

they were more concerned with if he had a girlfriend, what he looked like or who he was fucking. His talent was on the back burner and it frustrated the hell out of him.

it was the very reason he didn’t respect a lot of today’s musicians. A lot of them weren’t even true or authentic to themselves and fed into that bullshit. That’s why he chose to stay behind the scenes.

it was easier to focus on what he loved rather than the stupidity. Shame it couldn’t allude him entirely because he was left with instances such as today. Grabbing a nearby water bottle, the visibly frustrated brunette unscrewed the cap and chugged the clear liquid down halfway.

at this point, he had heard all that was necessary. It was back to the drawing board because no way he was about to co-sign or engineer this bullshit.

“You’re just not seeing the vision, bro. Trust me on this.”

“I’m seeing something and it’s my patience wearing thin. Twenty four hours…that’s all you have to come back with some heat like I know you got. You’re better than this, man. If you don’t tighten up, you can forget me working on this goddamn album. I’m not even playing with you.”

the rapper knew not to test his luck any further. Friend or not, he wasn’t going to waste anymore of his precious time. Releasing a heavy huff, he’d hop up from his seat and grab his phone.

it didn’t come from a place of malice or hatred but Eren did have the tendency to come off a bit harsh. He didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just how he was and everyone had learned to deal with it.

he was the type of person that accepted nothing less than greatness from his artists so if he deemed it lazy or lackluster, his stamp would not be on it.

besides, he still had three other artists to see today and he didn’t have anymore time to waste on listening to this man let the beat whoop his ass for four tracks straight.

“Same time tomorrow then, man?”

“That depends on you. You bring me a hot pack of ass like this and you’ll be standing outside the door. Now goodbye.”

with that, he’d take his leave, security tailing behind him and a scowl on his face. Left shaking his head, Eren just released a heavy sigh before looking down at his mixing board.

"..does anybody take this business seriously anymore?"

just then, he was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. It was his agent..or rather the one who ran the show. Hesitant and just not in the mood to deal with this, he’d release a deep sigh and say a silent prayer before answering.

“Jesus, you look like shit. When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

and it seemed his prayers weren’t effective enough because he was seconds from snapping. The first words from the snarky woman’s mouth like daggers to his soul.

“Well good afternoon to you too, Mikasa.”

the two of them had been friends for quite some time and even the center of some weird dating rumors but for anyone that knew the duo, it was the furthest thing from.

despite him not making many records in the past few years, Eren still DJ’ed and promoted, as well as performed at some clubs, in addition to engineering and producing..so naturally someone had to arrange these happenings as a middle man.

but, being him, he could never make anything easy and was labeled like that of a diva. Hard to work with and always turning down things that didn’t appease him. Which naturally made her job a whole lot harder..

she was just the only one who refused to tolerate his bullshit!

“Don’t good afternoon me. I’ve been trying to track your ass down for two days and to no avail, of course you’re holed up in that damned studio like a hermit.”

he could hear what she was saying but in all honestly, he didn’t care. More than likely, she wanted him to go and DJ at some stuffy lounge riddled with coked up college kids and aspiring models who eat Xanax for breakfast.

totally not his speed.

nonetheless, he’d lean back in his chair, nonchalantly chewing on the end of a toothpick as he listened to her ramble.

it was obvious that nothing was getting through to that thick numbskull of his.

“And? I’m working. You’d know that if you were a good agent.”

just then, the short haired woman broke into a chuckle, clutching the steering wheel of her S Class Mercedes. And something told him it wasn’t because he said something funny.

“Don’t piss me off more than you already have. Listen, I have a job for you tonight..the new club that just opened up downtown. They need another promoter to help host and I told them you’d be perfect.”

that seemed to have piqued his interest but not because he was excited or anything but because it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Another?”

unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice!

“Yes, the IG model and dancer, (y/n) (l/n) she’s also going to be there tonight. Girl’s a pretty big deal and apparently, she brought out a lot of people.”

he was somewhat familiar with the name but he despised social media as much as he despised hosting. Besides, if he’s seen one, he’s seen them all: shallow, vain, Barbie types with nothing more than a BBL and vibes.

it wasn’t so much the looks that bothered him because they were absolutely beautiful but it seemed as if the whole industry was opportunistic and weird at this point. Everyone looking for a come up and a moment without true work..

“What the hell, Mika? You know I hate that shit. And I have two other recording sessions—

“Not anymore! My job is to get you paid and let’s be honest, the last two artists you produced for weren’t exactly cash cows. How long do you think this whole mysterious antisocial act is going to last? Sad to say, but your time is dwindling, my guy.”

just then, he’d roll his eyes emerald green eyes and just shrug it off but for once, he wasn’t about to pout and whine his way out of this..she was right.

EJ was one of the most popular artists in the world and although he had a pretty loyal fanbase, a lot of them were growing impatient and with new stars being made every three to five business days, people who were true to their craft no longer felt as if they had a place and people no longer reserved patience for artists taking years at a time to put out projects..

and she didn’t want him to be one of them! He belonged here just like everyone else but he had to show up sometimes!

releasing a sigh of her own, Mikasa just shook her head and hoped that he’d listen for once.

“We all have things we don’t want to do but I’m asking for once, stop being so goddamned selfish and only thinking of what Eren wants. There’s a world beyond your own little bubble and a lot of people are dependent on you. We’ll both get a good cut from this so I’m begging you not to screw this up.”

as much as this pained him, he did owe her this much for putting up with his erratic behavior. Besides, he’s put up with far worse in the past!

reaching into the pockets of his black Nike Techs, he’d retrieve two items: a pre-rolled blunt and a black lighter with his initials inscribed on it in gold. If they wanted him to interact with the outside world, he had to calm his nerves first!

“Alright, alright!..I’ll be there, damn..”

getting irritated with her voice and this entire conversation and honestly, the feeling was mutual.

“Let me find out you didn’t show up, I’ll kick down the door to that little hobbit hole of yours and break everything in my sight. Got it?”

and one thing he knew not to do was doubt that she would be capable of such a thing! He’d assure her that he’d be there..

“Loud and clear, drill sergeant.”

“Good boy. I don’t want to have to have this conversation again."

and with that, she’d disconnect the other line.

it was safe to say, he wasn’t thrilled about any of this but maybe stepping outside of his comfort zone would be good..maybe. But only time would tell!

•••••••••

meanwhile, on another side of the city, there was someone else dealing with the exact dilemma as the introverted engineer..

"So when we finish here, the car should be arriving shortly after..we’ll get you over to the club, let you do a walkthrough, get you changed and then you know what to do from there.”

the voice of a wiry and vivacious woman sprouted off the itinerary without so much as a second thought, scrolling through her iPad with the tap of a finger. Wired frame glasses dangling from the bridge of her button nose and her blonde locks styled into that of a high bun.

she was the hardworking assistant and right hand to upcoming model, influencer and dancer, (Y/N) (L/N) or (social media name) to her followers.

over the past couple of years, the esteemed exotic dancer amassed quite the following by posting videos of yourself dancing to several popular songs, even performing live with a ton of artists on stage.

you were the leader of a country wide collective of other dancers known as the Pole Assassins, who performed incredible routines. You gained quite the notoriety and in no time flat, you rose to instant stardom as social media’s newest vixen.

it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but it was quite the culture shock for the twenty something instructor who was just sharing your art with the world, only to now be thrust into a life of crazy living and insane work.

to having tons of strangers hurl wild opinions and insults in your direction unprovoked. Not to mention the millions of prying eyes on your every move..it was insane!

if you weren’t modeling and being sponsored for the newest fast fashion brand or some newfound tea company hoping to hook buyers on their repackaged laxatives, you were attending parties at some nightclub; hosting and hyping the crowd for whatever performer was headlining.

tonight would be no different..except maybe one thing.

“Yeah, I got it. Thank you, honey. By the way, do you know who this other host is?”

the woman, sitting cross legged whilst various people patted at her face with makeup brushes and sponges. You looked flawless already but they had to ensure that every part you was nothing less than perfection.

normally, you worked solo to make these events as lively as possible but the person you were set to work with was apparently a pretty big deal. A huge name in the music world was making a rare appearance tonight at this new grand opening.

“You haven’t heard? It’s Eren Jaeger, EJ, the singer..well he’s more of a producer now. He’s actually gonna be DJ’ing and performing tonight!”

that’s when your eyes nearly popped from yourhead. Now that was a name you hadn’t heard in a long time but it wasn’t due to him being washed up or outdated, he was just such an enigma in the music world now.

akin to something like a Frank Ocean or SZA..keeping fans sitting on the edge of their seats, wondering when he’d drop his next project.

his voice was beautiful, nearly enchanting and you had even used a couple of his pieces in some of your videos, dancing along to the slow, seductive sounds of the melodies. On the same hand, he made some of the hardest rap tracks you’d ever heard. And yet, for someone who made such music and as attractive as he was, he preferred to stay out of the limelight.

it seemed almost counterproductive but you also understood.

in the not so distant past, you saw horror stories of grown women grabbing at his privates on stage when he was only eighteen, girls sending him inappropriate pictures and just being weird.

watch one interview and even a blind man could tell it made him uncomfortable. The whole sex symbol allure wasn’t his thing.

in some ways, you resonated with him. You knew all too well what it felt like having your true craft pushed to the wayside all so people could create their own narratives. Rather than being recognized for the years of hard work and dedication it took to master the art of pole..you were now seen as nothing more than a cookie cutter Insta model with a pretty face and no substance.

some days, you felt like tossing that damn phone in the ocean and never looking back!

regardless, even though you didn’t know him personally, it was an honor to be in the presence of a musical great.

“I’m shocked they could even afford to bring someone like him out. That’s a huge name.”

“Yeah, well you’d be surprised. I seriously doubt it was something he was thrilled to do but we’ll see.”

(Y/N) mirrored his sentiment honestly but work was work and they had to do whatever necessary to pay the bills. As for you, you’d down a couple shots of liquid courage, throw on a tight body con dress, highest heels and work the crowd as per usual.

you just hoped that your co-host wasn’t a jerk as the rumors claimed.

later that evening…

night had fallen cast over the city's skyline and the party was merely at its inception. Guests were lining up near the entrance, lined up and ready to get inside to rub elbows with their favorite celebrities. All dressed up and at their best.

however, they weren’t the only ones..

a blacked out Audi R8 had just circled around the side entrance and killed its engine. The matte lights went dim and suddenly the passenger side door opened. Bystanders whispered in speculation as to who was inside but their minds would not be left to wander much longer.

followed by sounds ‘oohs’ and ‘oh my gosh’s’, out stepped a man in clothing resembling that of his car; all black with the exception of some silver chains, rings and studs in his ears. Combat type boots and cargos with a cut off black shirt showing off his numerous tattoos, along with a vest type harness. (inspo)

but it was the signature brown hair styled into a half up-half down bun that gave away his identity and it took no time for the fans to react. Screaming women of every variety began trying to surpass the barricade to get to him but were held back by bouncers and he was shielded by his security, who were eager to handle anyone approaching him, as he gave a swift wave.

underneath his black mask, Eren would muster up a faint smile and try to be as social as possible..all while praying that he’d get through this night quickly. His emerald green eyes were already glazed over from the blunt he had finished before leaving home and trust that it was much needed.

he was more than ready for this to be over with so he’d make his way through the side door and into the lounge where he was greeted by his agent and the energetic owner.

“There he isss, the man of the hour. It’s really an honor, EJ. Thank you again for this! You have no idea how much it means..”

the high pitched voice and effervescent personality belonged to Zoe Hange, a very affluent and well known promoter who owned many successful clubs and lounges all over the country. To have such big stars on opening night was a testament to their work.

gratefulness aside, he wanted to go home but before he’d end up saying something stupid, Mikasa would interject and cover for him.

“Likewise. We’re very happy that you reached out. We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we?” Shooting the musician a stern glare to assure he answered correctly. “For sure.” responding flatly. However, what would follow later would shift his mood entirely.

the vibrant owner, sporting their red and black pantsuit would exclaim, clasping their hands together. “Ahh, wonderful! As you can see, our stage is just to your left and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what to do. Just make magic up there, my dear. As for your co-host, she should be arriving shortly and we can get this thing started!”

his patience and social battery was already wearing thin so he hoped for this host’s sake that she didn’t disappoint either. That's when the momentary silence was interrupted by the sound of clacking heels.

"Hi, everyone. Hope I'm not late.." the soft voice spoke out, causing everyone in the room to shift their heads towards the right side. In came a woman wearing a short white dress, cut off just above the knees, tall clear heels and thirty inches of jet black hair flowing to her thin waist. Beautiful dark skin and nearly flawless makeup…the type of girl that turned heads when she walked in.

to say she was stunning was an understatement...and Eren could hardly keep his eyes off of her; definitely a first for the less than friendly performer. It took a lot to get his attention. "Not at all, actually you're just on time. Please join us."

Zoe would declare, waving a hand to bring the woman over. "This is (y/n) (l/n) or as some of you may know her, (social media handle). She’ll be working with us tonight as well. I’m sure between the both of you, it’ll be one hell of a show. Just give my new baby a proper welcoming party.”

“She is also my newest client and I’m very excited to have her on board. Thank you again for doing this on such short notice..” Mikasa chimed in as she swooped in to wrap you up for a tight hug. “I wish all my talent were as cooperative and flexible as you..” shooting the ever so silent singer a glare, to which he’d scoff.

but when you looked in his direction, his eyes shifted a bit and his cheeks raised from underneath that face covering before he turned his head. Inside, you were fangirling and freaking out. But you knew how reserved he was, not to mention his already annoyed expression..so you didn’t want to come off as a clout chasing groupie.

one thing you had noticed was how much more toned and muscular he had gotten since his hiatus. This man was swole to say the least!

as much as it pained him, he was still a professional about the whole thing. He realized there was no point in taking out his frustrations on the girl just trying to do her job as well. That and the fact he was taken aback by how stunning you were. He may have been a recluse but he was still a man nonetheless.

“..I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan. So it’s really an honor. The Living Dead Boy mixtape is one of my all time favorites.” Truth be told, he didn’t know how to take your compliment because he wasn’t expecting that. Not for such a pretty girl such as yourself to even know his music. And considering that was one of his more underground projects..that was impressive! Now here he was blushing like a damn fool.

“I—uh..thank you. Well I guess I should go get set up. See you in a little bit. " bidding you all adieu before walking off towards the backstage area. You would've liked to think that you greeted him kindly but it seemed that he was no more impressed by you than he was anyone else.

"Don't worry too much about him. He just takes some getting used to, that's all. Deep down, he's really a sweetheart..when he wants to be that is.." Mikasa would reassure, flashing you a warming smile. Maybe so but you had no time to worry about personal feelings or ego, as the club doors were set to open any minute.

you’d make your way to the backstage as well, making any last minute touch ups to your makeup. You had about ten minutes before you’d be summoned so in that time, while you were getting your face patted, (y/n) thought silently to yourself about how things would go. What if this man really didn’t like you and things went south? The last thing you wanted was the gig to be unsuccessful. Suddenly, a stage tech would come and whisper for you, signaling that your cue was in about ten minutes or so. Sounds of music coming from the front, signaling that the club was officially opened for business.

things would undeniably be different as you’d have to command the crowd for the entire night and keep them entertained. Most of the time, you were more so of a side attraction to whoever was performing so it was time to break out of your own shell and really come into your own tonight.

now..it was time to go to work!

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

two hours later..

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

“Everybody having a good time tonight?!”

the voice echoing throughout the nightclub, courtesy of a microphone held by the one and only (y/n) (l/n) aka (social media name). Met back with loud cheering and applause. So far, everything was going exactly as planned. All the patrons having a good time, lots of energy, wonderful music and just an all around good vibe.

which was wonderful news for the owner, Ms. Hange, who was thrilled to see that another one of her clubs launched off with such success. She had obviously made the right call hiring the best talent agent in the country. As for you, you were thrilled that you were able to make this party as live as possible. But little did they know that it was only starting..

“Club Lapis, y’all been so good to me tonight. Showing me so much love and popping out. I see a couple of familiar faces from Instagram..hey girl!” which was true because once you posted the club flyer to your Instagram, a decent chuck of your almost one million followers tapped in that were in the area. There were a few gorgeous women that you followed as well who decided to show up off of your namesake alone. Obviously, holding more weight than you expected but influencers were the new idols, some would say. You had been snapping pictures, taking videos and singing along and dancing with a lot of people. They were amped and now, it was time to give them the real main event.

“So, because y’all been so good to me…I got a lil’ something I wanna do for y’all. A surprise for everybody..” some were already privy to what, or who rather was waiting but for those who didn’t, you’d give one hell of an introduction! “I was talking with this person backstage and they said they were a little nervous to be here tonight..and I’m thinking to myself, ‘the only one nervous is me. I’m in the presence of greatness..and a good looking ass man’.” Everybody cracking up at your little jokes because you were always naturally funny without trying, which was also part of your allure; something a lot of these insta models didn’t have. “Baby in the front here losing her mind, trust me, girl..I understand now.” One of which who was spotted earlier yelling for him as he walked in.

it was true..you had the honor of actually having a conversation with him prior to this and Ms. Ackerman was right..he was incredibly sweet once you got the chance to talk to him. That and the fact he was higher than giraffe pussy so he wasn’t as irritated and nervous as before! Regardless, he was so kind and even thanked you for hosting with him. Despite his personal feelings about these sort of things, he was a professional and knew he had to do a good job for not only his sake but yours as well. Besides, he really did thrive when performing. So you’d do the best job possible, hyping him to the crowd..

“Not that he needs an introduction..’cause he been popping his shit longer than I’ve been around. And for all my followers, y’all already know how I feel about this man and his music. We’ve been lucky enough to get him to come out for us tonight so y’all better make some fucking noise and show all the love for The Prince of Trap and B himself..the Underground’s Greatest…”

as you were in the middle of doting and giving your speech, the people would start going crazy. Girls in full blown tears, people screaming and jumping around..that’s when you’d look back to see the legend Eren Jaeger himself walking up behind you, brandishing a microphone and a smile on his face. He’s as charming and handsome as ever. “Well damn..don’t I feel special?” That ever so smooth voice ending shivers up your spine.

and it doesn’t help when he places his hand around your waist and look down at you. He really is every bit of the flirt his persona portrays..

“Miss (y/n), you keep talking about me like that and imma start blushing and shit..”

muttering into his mic as he cradled his palm around your waist. He better had stopped before he caused a problem he wasn’t ready for! The scent of his cologne wafting through your nostrils, his warmth against your body..you had met a million rappers, chopped it up with the industry’s biggest but something about this man felt so familiar and..comforting. Like the two of you could be friends. He didn’t treat you like a stranger or act all irritable like before. So you’d use it to play up the moment.

“I mean, I gotta let the people know..brag on you for a minute, boo.”

“Well, I ain’t mad about it, baby. But I guess I should give everybody what they came here for, right?”

his rhetorical question being met with a loud response from everywhere.

now, anyone who didn’t know any better would’ve sworn that you guys had not only known each other for years but had a little something on the low. That wasn’t the case, even in the slightest. Honestly, with you, it felt natural and you just worked well together.

Outside of the little exchange backstage of how things would go and the two of you properly introducing yourselves, there wasn’t much else to indicate that he was cool with you but such was life and industry politics. People played pretend all the time for a check..something you learned fairly on.

however, something he said to you did stick as he noticed you fidgeting with one of your brushes, a sure sign of your anxiety about being a lead host tonight.

you were appreciative of his kind words and assurance that you weren’t alone in this. It was going to be fine as long as the two of you had fun. He even offered you a hit of his blunt to calm your nerves.

but either way, now, it was his turn to take over!

“Then I’ll just step over here to the side and let you handle your business—“ but as you were walking off the stage, he’d flash you a smile and wink. “Y’all give it up for the ever so lovely…and beautiful (y/n). She really has done a great job tonight.” Sending your heart fluttering and butterflies all throughout your stomach. Why was this man playing so much?! Nonetheless, you were flattered all the same and you’d blow a kiss to him; watching your hips sway as you walked off the stage.

the energy and chemistry between you two was insane and the crowd absolutely loved it! Because y’all were enjoying yourselves, so was everyone else and that’s what mattered!

considering you were just as big of a fan as everyone else, you were excited to watch him perform. Taking a glance back at his DJ, they’d have a little exchange and he’d really start to blossom; like the stage was where he came to life and nothing else mattered except the music. “Play that shit.” As soon as he gave the signal and that track dropped, the whole place went crazy! It was one of his most popular songs, 1st Degree, and most energetic. It was a trap song and you had heard it played everywhere when it first came out. In a matter of minutes, he’s hopping around in stage and going off. The crowd singing it louder than he was at some point.

pointing the mic out to them, they’d scream his lyrics back at him in intervals and he’d just laugh because seeing a bunch of bad bitches yell about gun violence and drugs was so funny. Including (y/n)..he couldn’t believe everyone still fucked with him this heavily. By the time, he finished, Eren would be met with loud screams and chants. Laughing, he’d cup his microphone and move across the stage, engaging with everyone.

“DJ, did you hear that? They were going harder than me!..what the fuck?”

to say he was impressed, was an understatement. He had never imagined that after all these years, he still had this kind of impact. Some people would try and downplay or talk shit about the fact that he was in a venue like this but for someone who was over the pressures of performing, this felt much more intimate.

he’d rather have a hundred loyal fans than thousands of people pretending to know his lyrics and stand there with their phones out. Right now, he was really feeling himself and although you had just met, as a long time fan, you were happy for him. Happy that he was so well received by the audience and not being made uncomfortable. This really was his element.

the show would go on and he’d do a few more songs, this time some of the ones where he was singing, which you personally preferred. This man’s voice was something serious…many of times had you constructed pole routine to his sensual lyrics. However, that’s when he done something a tad bit unexpected.. “Alright, so for this last song..we’re about to get a little sexy. On that demon time, as they say..”

everyone immediately laughing and knowing exactly what track he was referring to…the one that had women going crazy for months and men using it to spit game. It was the first time he had ever made a love song and needless to say, the internet went stupid. It was so freaky that the blog sites were talking shit. That’s when he knew he had a hit on his hands..

suddenly, the lights would dim and the entire vibe would change.

“Club Lapis, I’m in such a good mood tonight. I ain’t gone lie to y’all, I was a little nervous to come here, but I feel the love…so I’m gonna do a little something special. I feel like serenading somebody’s daughter.”

the entire place erupted in screams and women pointing to be chosen. “A couple of you are here with your man, I don’t want no problems tonight.” But Eren had already clearly had his mind on one person in particular..and it was no question. Flashing a big toothy smile, he’d direct his attention over towards the right before singling his sights on the far corner.

“Miss (y/n)..if you’d do me the honor of bringing your fine ass back up to the stage, please..”

‘oohs’ and ‘aah’s’ sparking immediately after. Your cheeks began to burn something fierce…Eren fucking Jaeger was up on stage, flirting with you! This did not feel real whatsoever. Regardless, you made your way back up there. You’d look over to see people breaking their thumbs, sending out a plethora of tweets.

climbing the steps, he’d assist you with an extended hand. Right there underneath the beaming spotlights, the two of you would lightly clutch fingers as he stood there, smiling. Seeing him up close was like a dream. The fantasy of many fangirls who’d fawned over him since his debut and here you were getting the first hand experience. Those piercing green eyes glaring right into your own and sending your heart racing.

finally, the instrumental would begin to play and Eren began to belt out the tune. As per, he sounded amazing; those lyrics making things just that much better..talking about fucking until the bed broke, making movies and making her wet. Whoever the inspiration was behind that song was one lucky ass bitch! Pining over to the crowd, he’d let the lovely bunch of ladies huddled at the front of the stage mimic the song back to him before taking over the next verse and just for the occasion, he had slightly altered the words.

“Know I said that I can’t stay with you, no I can’t make you my wife but (y/n), if you let me in it, I swear I’ll change your life.”

crooning before running his finger underneath your chin.

sending the crowd into a frenzy. Mainly because everyone could see how fast you were folding on that stage, after having been so poised and professional all night! One thing stood true; he may not have been that way in real life, but EJ the stage persona was a whole slut and a half! No wonder the podcaster bitch boys talked so much about him. He had their dream girls about to faint.

once the song reached its conclusion, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. But he knew he better had booked it to the back before somebody’s hormonal girlfriend rushed the stage.

“Thank you Club Lapis, goodnight!”

leaving to a loud chant of his name, thunderous claps and cheers. Ending on a high note if he had to say so himself. Right now, he was on a cloud that he didn’t want to come down from and he had the perfect way to remain there.

meanwhile, (y/n) would address the audience once more, thanking them for such a wonderful evening, being so nice to both of them, to be safe and enjoy the rest of their night here. Once that was done and the DJ proceeded to resume his regular track list, you were since again stopped by fans and patrons alike, asking for pictures and saying how jealous they were that you were being sang to like that.

trust, it wasn’t something that you were expecting either but you played your role well. Now it was time to relax with a few drinks.

Ms. Hange had took the liberty of reserving VIP for the two of you once the show ended to unwind with complimentary and unlimited bottle service. You weren’t a heavy drinker by any means but why not take advantage?

honestly, once the adrenaline of the moment wore off, you grew fatigued. All of the stimulation of the loud noises and screaming people was a bit much. However, you had to fulfill your obligations.

ten minutes or so passed and it seemed that you’d be unwinding on your own..that was until you heard a familiar voice. “So this is where my beautiful co-host ran off to..”

it was the star himself and he seemed to be sporting a new outfit.. still all black with those silver chains dangling around his neck. He looked good, which was no surprise. As he kneeled to sit down, he’d scoop you in a tight hug in one fell swoop. At this point, there was no question of what his feelings were towards you. He could’ve easily dipped and had his security get him up out of here but he stayed.

“God, you sounded amazing up there! I never thought I’d get to hear the great EJ The Don in person.” Blushing at the mention of just one of his many stage names, that one being more so his producer tag. Truthfully, he just went up there and done what he enjoyed the most..sharing his music with the world.

as he took a seat next to you, he’d pour up a glass of vodka, matching your own. Casually shrugging his shoulders, he’d swirl it around a bit before knocking back a sip. “Just doing my job, that’s all. I gotta say, you did your thing too. Told you, you’d be fine.” Being reaffirmed by someone so iconic was the highest of compliments.

“I’d say you did more than that. I ain’t mad though.” Smirking in his direction before drinking from your own glass and giving him a side eye. It seemed that he was comfortable enough for you two make jokes and honestly, he had never felt that way about anyone, less known someone he had only met. Maybe it was the courage of being crossfaded but Eren truly felt at ease around you for some reason.

and you mirrored that sentiment. It wasn’t uncommon for these gigs to go left when some artist decided to get too handsy or be disrespectful of your boundaries but that wasn’t the case here. He was so sweet and down to earth.

“Aye, you said let’s entertain them so that’s what I did. Besides, you standing up there, looking all cute and shit..I couldn’t help it.” Before long, the pair was laughing and giggling, chopping it up as if no one else was around. The flirtatious tension was getting out of hand!

“You mind if I scoot a little closer, miss (y/n)? I don’t want to get in your personal space.”

“Go right ahead.” eventually letting him drape his arm around the back of the couch and move a couple inches towards you. Being all cozied up to a superstar like him was surreal and people would most certainly have their fair share of opinions and commentary, you were certain.

nonetheless, the evening continued on as normal. The two of you talking as if you’ve known each other for a long time. Rather than bore you with stories of how he got his start that could be found with a simple YouTube search of his interviews, he wanted to hear your background. He only knew of you through social media circulation but he figured there had to be more to the illustrious (social media name).

“So I gotta ask..how in the hell did you manage to get tangled up with mad woman Mikasa and let her talk to you into this?”

when you began to gain a little more notoriety, it was only natural to get an agent to help capitalize on this newfound fame and get the real money coming in. She didn’t have her reputation for nothing..Ms. Ackerman worked harder than the devil himself and she didn’t hesitate to take care of you so when she decided to team you two you up, little did they know just how much of a genius she was.

so that’s when you told him about your journey through learning pole, going on tour with a bunch of different artists and serving as a backup dancer. It was a lot of fun but outside of work, you never made it your business to be chummy with your cohorts. You done the job you are paid for and then went on about your business. It was lonely but for the best, considering how weird some folks moved.

and Eren felt the same. He didn’t have many friends in this industry. Hell, it was almost ironic because the fans adored him but a lot of fellow artists didn’t really have much to say about him as a person. Sure, they respected his craft but he didn’t make it his mission to get close to anyone..until now.

you definitely had his interest piqued, to say the least! Having a conversation with (y/n) was somewhat refreshing. You weren’t another groupie trying to play in his face or look for a come up. You didn’t treat him like you were trying to kiss his ass or anyone else’s..it was just a normal vibe and one he hadn’t shared with someone in a long time..so much so, that you had this man laughing and smiling like a fool. Maybe this whole gig wasn’t a bad idea!

“Wait a minute, you’re friends with Jean Kirschtein? I danced at one of his shows in Chicago last year.”

“Friends is a strong word, I prefer pain in the ass. No offense, but dude gets on my fucking nerves.”

the bold statement sending you doubling over in laughter. Not because you didn’t like the rock singer, he was actually very nice but the fact that he was just spilling all types of tea to you as if you guys were best friends! That’s when he explained that they were signed to the same label for a while and that he was actually engaged to his best friend and manager, Mikasa. Literally the only reason he tolerated him.

“Well damn. Can’t say I blame you..some people in this business will turn you against it real fast. Of course, I’m sure you’re the last person I have to tell that, but then there’s others who are…really sweet.”

swirling your fingertip around the perimeter of your glass as you shot him a glare, as well as a warm smile. One that made his cheeks immediately glow red, even under the fluorescent lighting. It was adorable..

scooting a bit closer, he’d glare down at your smaller frame and curl his tongue across his top row of teeth. This man was dangerously handsome that it made no sense whatsoever! “I agree..it’s not so bad all the time.” For a moment, you two were locked in an intense gaze; one that wasn’t typical of complete strangers but here you were!

suddenly, the eye contact was broken when he’d turn his head to the side and whisper something to you. “I think they’re staring at us..” referring to the group of girls pointing with their cellphones out, jumping up and down as if they were a couple of TMZ reporters getting the latest scoop.

this was the sole reason he despised being out in public, because this is what it always resulted in. Cue the hundreds of messages from nosy ass bloggers and messy people trying to get in his business but tonight? He was in a bit of a mood to match their energy and hopefully shoot his shot! Luckily, you were on the same type time he was..

“I think they are..wonder what they’re up to?..” questioning rhetorically with the coyest smirk on your face. It was insane how equally yoked you both were in just this short amount of time. But he had an idea that would really have them going crazy.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, miss (y/n)?” and it went without saying that you most certainly were. This liquor and weed had the two of you playing a very dangerous game but what was the worst that could happen? Hell, blow up the internet for all of twenty four hours before they fixated on something else? He needed a little excitement in his life..had been a while since he caused some controversy!

giving him a nod, you’d shift in your seat to stare right at one another. The chemistry was undeniable and as someone who was in a position that half the bitches here would murder for..you didn’t turn down the opportunity! Leaning over, Eren nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck; his breath causing the minuscule hairs to rise on your skin.

his right hand resting gently on your thigh but not moving too far up to where you’d be uncomfortable and proceeded to pretend he was kissing you. “Just play along..let’s give their asses something to talk about.”

breaking into a toothy smile, (y/n) shook your head and bit your lip at the feeling of this man’s hands on you for the second time tonight. “Mr. Jaeger, you are something else, you know that?” But like clockwork, flashes would begin to flicker from every iPhone in the vicinity. Even hearing a few people muttering..you most certainly had never experienced anything like this before!

“I’ve heard worse said about me..”

the last thing you needed was for everyone to spin the rumor mill that you were fucking rappers now but honestly, you wouldn’t know how to act if he really did kiss you, less known done anything else. But somehow, you didn’t care..you were really enjoying yourself. And honestly, didn’t want this night to come to an end. So your ever so charming cohort would make another suggestion..

“Y’know, I’m a little over all this and if I’m not mistaken, we’ve fulfilled our obligation for the night. So if you don’t have any plans, how ‘bout we go chill somewhere else? That’s if..I’m not being too forward or nothing..”

offering as he stood to his feet, stretching out his muscles before extending his hand yet again.

normally, you’d decline with the quickness and say you were tired but something told you, you’d be missing out on a good time if you did. And that he’d be super disappointed as well. So, you done exactly what you felt was right…

“Not at all..”

accepting his grasp, he’d help you to stand and keep your footing; continuing the theme of being an absolute gentleman. Time to keep the party going in a much more private manner.

“You just lead the way..”

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