#imagine having that before your sold out show

[docholligay]

Angst prompts: Mercy kill, Roy (optional: Hawkeye is also there)

Good old fashioned Holligay style unrestrained summer fun. I have no idea how this could possibly prompt this problem BUT I AM ONLY TO EPISODE 19 OF THE ORIGINAL ANIME PLEASE NO ONE SPOIL ME. 1200 words.

“I've been considering my last words carefully.” 

Hawkeye was leaned up against the mesh grate between their cells. It was considerate, she thought, of them to allow her in the adjoining one. The night before she had to die, she would just as soon listen to him ramble on, the way he always did.  The sound was familiar, if not the content.

“I have to assume they’re going to record it for some kind of posterity. I mean, we almost succeeded. That’ll be in a history book somewhere, and what will they say about the traitor Roy Mustang?” 

Roy was nervous. Which was, she supposed, the natural way to feel. Marked to die by firing squad the next morning. In a drafty cell in rough grey clothing, sitting on the cold stone floor so they could hear each other. 

“I’m not going to say something like, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. Or, wait, I am sorry. Sorry we didn’t succeed. Sorry that,” he raised his voice, “Maes Hughes sold us out!” 

That had been Roy’s idea. They were caught, they were trapped, and Roy had convinced Hughes to be the one who informed on them. Beat Garnett to it. Get the rewards. Most importantly, remove yourself from suspicion. Roy had tried to figure out a way to save Hawkeye. She told him not to bother. She shot one of the soldiers who came for them. 

Hughes had been allowed to say goodbye to them, had cried, had managed to mutter out that of course he had defended Amestris over his beloved friends, but they were no less beloved. Roy had made a big show of forgiving him. 

Hawkeye would die as she lived: Alongside him. 

“Maybe I’ll pardon them. Maybe I’ll curse them. Maybe I’ll warn the Fuhrer that I’m just a symptom. Tell the alchemists, if we banded together, no one could stop us.” He chuckled. ��And then there’d be another mess. I would be better if none of us had ever been born. If the last alchemist were burnt on a pyre of every alchemy book ever written. Did you see the soldiers they have to shoot us tomorrow? Or they’re calling them soldiers.” 

He didn’t continue. He was waiting for her to remind him she was there. 

“I did.” 

Enough for him to pick back up. “I really wish any of these kids were old enough to shave. I wish I thought they had already killed someone. Maybe if they’d brought in some crack shots. That would have me feeling a lot calmer. Sitting here thinking about--” 

“Tell me a story, Colonel. One of your books.” He said nothing, simply breathed on the other side of the mesh. “Please. As much as you can remember.” 

“Okay. Okay.” She heard him lean back against the wall. “There was an orphan, named Philip Pirrip, but of course he couldn’t say that, being as he was orphaned so young--actually it's a stupid name anyway, but-- he just called himself Pip. Pip used to imagine what his parents were like from the letters on their gravestone--no one ever told him much about them…” 

Hawkeye wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she was awakened by the sound of the door opening. They had already shuffled Roy into the cool of the hallway, and he shivered a little as she stepped through the doorway. Hands tied behind his back, they tied hers the same. They were so young. She had held out some sort of hope that the crew assigned to their unmaking would be more experienced. It seemed to her an unkind thing for both recruit and prisoner, to have a firing squad so fresh. 

They stood, ready to be taken to the wall, the first light of day breaking over the top of the prison. She and Roy stood side by side, waiting, while whatever nonsense paperwork, that could very likely be done after they had bled into the dirt, was completed. It was to give them time to be afraid. They would have to do more than put her in a holding pattern. She was used to silence. She was used to watching. These boys were not used to being observed, studied. She was making them more nervous than the reverse. 

Finally, they tired of her long stare, and shoved them together out the door. The courtyard was cold and grey even in the light of dawn, and Hawkeye’s toes began to prickle with the chill of it. Her back was to his, as the soldiers talked among themselves, reminding themselves they could do this, teasing each other about it. 

Roy shook his head, sighing. 

“I don’t mind dying. I’ve been begging for it off and on for years. Fine. But these assholes are going to make a mess of it. Just leave me in a room alone with a gun, I’ll handle it.” His breath quickened. “I don’t want to watch them shoot you. They won’t let us go together. They’ll make me watch. Hawkeye…"

Her fingers gripped his hand, and she leaned back into his ear.  

“You’re going to be alright. It’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you.” 

Roy turned his head, and looked at her. He believed her, if only for a moment. She saw it in his eyes. He believed she could keep him safe. It was a good last thought. She would hold onto it. He believed in her. 

“If you have a plan, I would love to hear it.” He scoffed, letting his cynicism roll in. 

“Trust me.” 

The leader, if he could be called such, of the fusillade, nodded. A young man with two strands of chin hair came toward them, barreling out his chest as he prepared to take Hawkeye to the wall. She heard her name, and a list of her offenses. It was annoying to know that Roy had been right about so much. They were going to make him watch. Not enough to simply kill him. Cruel.

But Roy was right about another thing, as well. These were idiot children. She twisted her wrists, the inadequate knot falling away, and rushed toward the man coming for her. Because they were idiot children, he had left his holster unsnapped. Bad habit, borne of fear and lack of discipline. Free of the badly tied rope, she slipped the pistol out of the holster and flipped it around in her hand. Less than a second. Perfect grace. She was born for this moment. If she’d had the time, she would have allowed herself to be proud.

She grabbed Roy around his shoulders and pulled him tightly to her. Just behind the ear. She placed the gun, and fired it. He didn’t even have time to yelp. His carefully planned last words ended up being a grunt. No time to be afraid, or feel pain. She’d kept her promise. 

He was gone in an instant, but she could not bring herself to drop him. She set his body down gently. Ridiculous sentimentality, really, but she would give herself the gift of a little ridiculous sentimentality, here at the end. Those same idiot children all with their guns pointed, trembling, but none would shoot. She wiped Roy’s brains from the side of her face. He had been right about that too. They would have made a mess of it. Unprofessional. 

She put the gun behind her ear, and performed the execution neatly. 

[donnatroia]

listen I know it’s kind of corny and inaccurate to act like every single person in the dc universe knows each other and is besties but it IS endlessly funny to me to follow the web of connections and see how many degrees removed from each other everyone is.

like look at the arrowfam okay. ollie and dinah are together, ollie is homoerotic best friends with hal, dinah is homoerotic best friends with babs. roy is dating dick, has a kid with jade, and is basically an adoptive father to both grant emerson and rose wilson. connor is dating kyle and is constantly followed around by eddie fyers. mia is friends with a lot of the second gen teen titans kids, had an on-again-off-again thing going on with steph for a while, and is currently dating sienna. emiko is besties with courtney and some of the other recent teen titans. sin has a small army of protective aunts from the birds of prey. the real question is how far does it go before ollie puts a cap on the number of people who are invited to family brunch on sundays

[icewindandboringhorror]

It always seems a bit unbalanced on The Great Food Truck Race when there will be multiple teams who are cooking a wide variety of complex dishes with 10 different components and a bunch of prep work, and then there's that one team who like... exclusively serves plain crepes with some premade nutella on them, or plain waffles with just some whipped cream and cut up strawberries lol...

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sylus' vlogger significant other.

Imagine you didn't mean to start a war in the comments section.

Imagine the plan was simple. Go live while wandering through the city, show off some cafés, chat with your followers and maybe grab a new clothe or two. You were wearing your usual off duty glam, sunglasses tucked in your hair, phone on a gimbal, smile easy, voice warm.

Imagine the city was buzzing behind you, late afternoon traffic, couples in café corners, tourists posing with signs. Just another day. "So yes, I did cut my bangs again." You say with a grin, glancing at chat. "And no, it wasn't a mental breakdown, Ztrope. It was a vision. I had a vision." Chat explodes with laughter.

1sht1kll: BANGS ERA LET'S GOOO

Ladsslave: your forehead misses you tho

Ztrope: they cut em at 2AM I can feel it

Abcdefg: BFFR was it a vision or did HE cut it 👀

2days3days: drop the bf reveal already smh

clote4: dude STILL pretending to have a boyfriend lol

dmnlf: every week it's 'my sweet bf this my bf that' where is he??

1233kill: 💀💀💀 r we still doing the imaginary man storyline in 2025??

Imagine you pause. Eyes scan the screen then the sidewalk. The air smells like warm pastry and ego bruises. You sigh, tucking hair behind your ear. "Okay. Look. I know it sounds weird. He's real. He just doesn't like being on camera. And honestly? I respect that. Not everyone wants their face plastered on the internet just because I live on here."

Imagine the way you smile trying to play it off. "Also maybe it has something to do with out first meeting." You pause for a moment before you continue. "Let's just say... Our first meeting was intense." You added. "He had... Strong opinions."

Imagine if only they knew the 'strong opinions' involved a bullet chamber and the cold press of a gun against your back. But they didn't. And you weren't about to tell them. You liked the mystery. And besides that story belonged to you and Sylus alone.

dmnlf: DUDE JUST ADMIT IT

1233kill: 😭😭 They're acting like it's twilight or something

clote4: 'he had strong opinions' broo he sounds like ur landlord

Imagine the way you press your lips together. "Anyway. He's real. And sweet. And scary when he wants to be, which is also kind of sweet. But whatever, I'm not explaining further-"

Imagine a sudden roar of an engine rips through the street. The chat flies in real time gibberish as a matte black motorcycle pulls into frame behind you. A blur of black leather jacket, long legs, and brutal elegance. The engine cuts off with a smooth purr. The man removes his helmet.

and Imagine the world, including your chat, explodes.

Imagine the way he looks like he walked off the cover of a noir crime novel. Tousled hair, black gloves, sharp smile like sin. In one hand a full bouquet of deep red roses. In the other your favorite drink. And those eyes calculating, lazy, amused. Sylus. Also, how did he even bring your drink?

1sht1kll: WHO IS THAT. WHO. IS. THAT.

Ztrope: YO IS THAT THE BF?!??!??!?

1sht1kll: I- WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I'VE SEEN THIS BEFORE

Abcdefg: I THOUGHT HE SOLD FRUIT WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A FINAL BOSS

Ladsslave: I'M SITTING DOWN IM SHAKING I'M

2days3days: THE MOTORCYCLE??? THE FLOWERS???

clote4: wait he's hot

dmnlf: ok now i'm scared

1233kill: I THOUGHT HE'D BE CUTE THIS GUY LOOKS LIKE HE KILLS FOR FUN

Ztrope: Deja vu is real. I've been here before. help.

"You left this at home." Sylus says casually, handing you the drink. "And you said you wanted peonies but they looked pathetic. So." He lifts the bouquet. You blink. "You... took a day off?" "I took the whole afternoon." He corrects smoothly. "We're going shopping. And before you argue, I've already cleared it with everyone. Even the fruit stand."

Imagine the way your jaw drops slightly. The stream hasn't stopped screaming.

Ztrope: 'fruit stand' yeah okay sure buddy

Abcdefg: HOW IS HE SO CHILL. THIS IS THEIR LIVESTREAM.

1sht1kll: NO BUT HIS VOICE IS KINDA??

Ladsslave: why do I feel like this happened before. a streamer. another smug man. are they… is this a universe thing

clote4: not me apologizing for calling him fake

1233kill: y'all ever feel secondhand attraction??

2days3days: LOOK AT THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT 'EM

Imagine the way you're already laughing, holding the phone with one hand as Sylus throws an arm around your shoulder and steers you toward the street. He slips his sunglasses on designer, obviously and leans into your ear.

"They called me imaginary." He murmurs, smug. "Darling, should I kiss you on camera? Or buy the building behind you?" You elbow him lightly. "Behave. You're being watched by a million people." He grins. "Good."

Imagine the first stop was a luxury boutique.

Imagine the way Sylus walks in like he owns the place. You barely even have time to touch a handbag before he snaps his fingers at a sales assistant. "They wants this. And this. Not that one, looks too cheap." You blink. "Sylus, babe-" "I'm not letting you wear knockoffs. My enemies have taste. You should too."

Abcdefg: NOT HIM SHADING OTHER BRANDS 😭

1sht1kll: he's that rich. i can tell.

Ztrope: "my enemies have taste" WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

clote4: wait i want him.

dmnlf: i want them both. i'm crying

1233kill: he just spent 26k like it was 12

Imagine you catch him slipping his card to the staff again, black, sleek, endless. He doesn't even look at the total. Just keeps one hand on your lower back, nudging you toward more. "Do you want the boots too?" He murmurs. "I didn't even try them on-" "Try them. I'll wait."

Imagine not too long after that you were holding a half melted ice cream cone now, seated beside Sylus on a bench, one where he piggyback ride you to. The one just outside a boutique you swore you weren't going to shop in but somehow ended up leaving with three bags and a new bracelet anyway. As if the previous one isn't enough.

Imagine he was sitting next to you, one arm draped casually behind your shoulders. The other scrolling lazily through his phone like he hadn't just blown half your fanbase hours ago. His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, revealing that sharp gaze that had reluctantly softened whenever he looked at you.

Imagine the chat was still going wild.

1sht1kll: THEY'RE FEEDING HIM ICE CREAM GOODBYE

Ztrope: NO ONE TALK TO ME I'M IN LOVE WITH BOTH OF THEM

Ladsslave: he really went from threatening aura to 'baby did u bring a spoon'

clote4: this is so staged.

dmnlf: why do you all fall for this lol??

Imagine the way Sylus glance at the screen before smirking. "Should I kiss you now or later?" You almost choked on your spoonful. "You're so full of yourself." "Mm. I think the people want it." He tilted his head mock, thoughtfully. "Democracy." The chat erupted again.

Abcdefg: i'm emotionally unwell

Ztrope: i am SO sorry for doubting him all this time, he is your MAN

clote4: imagine being them. imagine!!!

1233kill: someone check if the guy owns a criminal empire tho. fr.

2days3days: we all just witnessed a power couple. i’m sweating.

1sht1kll: best livestream in history.

Ladsslave: but seriously, I feel like I've seen this all before, just on a different form.

Imagine you wave at the camera. "Okay, okay, I'm ending it here. We're gonna have dinner later. And yes, he's real. Sorry to the haters. Actually, no. Not sorry." Sylus raises his cup of ice cream in a mock toast, eyes glinting. "To being real." He says before looking at you softly. "And to being yours."

Imagine you ended the stream. And the internet never recovers.

Imagine long after the livestream ended and the sun has gone down. You're now sitting in a rooftop restaurant, shopping bags around your feet, Sylus sipping his overpriced drink like a villain on date night.

Imagine the way he glances at the once on camera then at you. And then unexpectedly, he leans forward and kisses your cheek. A brief thing. Real. Soft. "Next time they say I'm fake." He says, voice just for you. "I'll buy airtime and show up with a ring."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: This was supposed to be Zayne just like Caleb's was supposed to be Michael Kaiser but I change my mind. Tho I will make one for Zayne later on.

[anastasiabowe]

" WATASHI WA STAR! "

✩ɞ You're a fucking star. And they want a taste of it.

cw. MDNI, [SEPERATE] fan (except Nanami) (Toji, Nanami, Choso, Geto) with celeb reader, female implied reader, mild stalking, POC implied reader (specifically African/African American, but not secluded to such), semi-public sex, caught sex, piv, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected, creep tendencies, squirting. (Ps. Not too much on perspective shifts, I low-key was fighting demons trying to stay on 3rd person perspective but I gave up..sorry..)

wc. 6,776

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☆ backstage pass.

It wasn't every tour you offered such an amazing type of pass for your millions of fans. The back stage pass. You avoided it, you didn't like the idea of people looking at you from behind stage, getting in the way between songs, or even abusing the opportunity. But, when your team pointed out how much money you could make, how this could boost your morale, how could you refuse?

When it was announced that you were offering such a deal, the amount of people who made posts, videos, tweets about it, the amount of people that pleaded in your dm's about you saving them a ticket was overwhelming to say the least. It was mère weeks of the constant buzz about the special pass that was limited to 3 people. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, the hours felt like days for all the fans who would be coming to your Japan show that was in a couple of weeks.

Launch day was terrifying. The second the tickets went for sale, Ticketmaster crashed from the amount of people trying to fight and pay their way to the special pass. After it was fixed, and the many apologies given from yourself and your team. The first 5 were sold. But so were the 200,000 open seats that very day. Was it record breaking? Nearly, did it break headlines? Definitely.

That was a few weeks ago. Now it's the day of your concert. You weren't nervous, you've done this for years, I mean how could you be? The thing you were slightly anxious about was the 3 fans who'd be backstage with you. They aren't only back stage, they get free food, a meet and greet with you, back stage seats to watch you perform, and they get to listen to your unreleased single before anyone else. What if they were creepy old men who want to hurt you? What if they had a bomb, or gun, and wanted to kill you? Those thoughts ran through your head as someone knocked on your door.

"Y/n? Backstage pass holders are here. It's time for you to greet them." Your manager called through the door*

"Alright, thank you." You shook the nerves and opened your dressing room, following your manager out to the empty foyer except for the single man standing there.

You approached the smiling man. He wore nothing but black, but you could see the small logo of your logo on the left side of his all black shirt, under his leather jacket. It was clearly your merch.

"Hello." You spoke to the man. You studied his face as you spoke. He wasn't half bad looking. He was taller than you, he had well defined muscles under your merch, and he had a scar on his lip. He smirked and looked down at you.

"Hey, princess." He said too casually. You frowned at the nickname, unsure how to feel about it. Your mind didn't like it, but the butterflies that filled your belly proved otherwise.

"Is it just you?" You asked, looking behind him. He chuckled and looked behind and around himself.

"Guess so," he smirked. "Guess it's just you and me backstage." You frowned even more. Damn, now you have to entertain him for the "meet & greet" portion, and after the concert for when he hears your unreleased song. It's going to be a long night.

"Okay, well, thank you for purchasing the backstage pass. You'd be the first to enjoy the luxury." You said plainly, trying to fight the fact the longer he looked at you, the more shy and flustered you felt. Okay, you were lying. This man is hot. You imagined things about him you shouldn't..like how his scar might feel on your-

"princess?" He waved his hand in front of your face, chuckling. "There she is." You blinked and looked up at him. God, why does he have to call you that? It makes you even more flustered and those damn butterflies don't know how to fucking die. Did he even say anything? All you heard or saw was those highly inappropriate and fanciful visions of him and you indulging in- activities.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You asked, no longer slightly flustered, but very flustered. He had his phone out and looked at you

"Yeah, I said my name's Toji, can we take a photo for my son?" His tone was a bit snarky and I rolled my eyes. He had a kid? I mean, makes sense, who wouldn't want a man like that to get them preg- damnit what the hell is going on with you?!

"Oh, yeah, sure! Just a photo?"

"Yeah, unless you wanna do a video or something." He said nonchalantly. I shook my head. "no, it's okay." He only chuckled at that and positioned his phone to take a selfie. He wrapped his larger arm around your waist and pulled you close, heads touching. He brought his hand to your left tit and secretly placed his hand on there as if he was innocently trying to hold you close. He took a few more and you pulled away, trying to seem unbothered, but damn did that turn you on.

He put his phone away and smiled. He knew you were flustered. I mean it was obvious by how slightly red your face was, even under all that makeup, your ears were a little red. He could tell from the way your eyes flickered to his body as often, if not more often than he did to you. You bit your lip occasionally, and stared at his longer than necessary. He wanted you, and now he can tell you did too, but he wouldn't admit that. He continued to study your body language, and he then noticed, it was almost too discreet to see, but he knew what he saw. You rubbed your thighs together, and not because of how you stood. He knew he had you. The breath y/n was falling for him. If not that, somewhat into him.

"you okay princess? I hope my company isn't...bothering you." He smirked as he stared you down.

"H-Huh?" You stuttered like a damn fool. God, you're the y/n, why the hell is this nobody making you feel this way. Especially this quick! It's been what, maybe 20 minutes, and you're already thirsting over this stranger! Ugh! Get a fucking grip!

"You've been staring off into space, I'm starting to think all that money I paid to see your cute face was f'r nothing." He teased as he crossed his arms.

"No! No, it wasn't for nothing, I'm just a bit..nervous! Nervous for the show, you know?" You tried to lie. It was so fucking obvious you were lying. You've bragged to the world at how comfortable you were on stage and how when you performed for half a million, you were only nervous that you might slip or fall in the heels you wore, but not from the amount of people looking at you. He knew it was a bold face lie, and he found great joy in your flustered state.

"Hmm, is that so? I guess I see no lie in that." He said, emphasizing the lie part. Damnit, now you were aware of the fact he knew you were lying. He definitely knows you're into him. But you can't be! I mean all those dating rumors, fan theories, I mean hell, what if you lose your following!? You sighed. Fuck...why were you giving in so damn easily? Why was he making you feel like this..I mean all he has is a pretty face! And a pretty body..and voic- fuck!

"Uh..what time is it?" You asked, trying to change the subject from the roaring thoughts filling your mind. He laughed and grabbed your wrist with your watch on it. "Hmmm, I wonder princess. It's almost like you have a watch on your wrist." Of course he'd be sarcastic, of course! Just find every fucking opportunity to make you embarrassed, huh?

"O-Oh.. I knew that." You tried to play it off. It was only 5:30, and your concern starts at 7. You had maybe an hour left with him alone before you had to be brought back into your dressing room to get ready for your concert. He continued his grip on your wrist, and that's when he did it. He pulled you to him. Right in the middle of that empty foyer.

"you know princess, I paid a whopping $2000 for this backstage pass. It wasn't easy getting the pass. And it certainly wasn't easy making sure I was the only one you'd be seeing tonight, so I think I should make it worth the money, don't ya think?" He smirked as he said that inches from your face. "You got a room we can go to? So we can..chat a little?"

You knew exactly what he was insinuating. He had you flush against him. He was whispering lowly in that deep, seductive voice of his. He was luring you in, and it was working. You should be pulling away. His wandering hand down to your ass didn't go unnoticed, yet you didn't pull away. You only nodded and that's how you found yourself bent over on your vanity in your dressing room, hair wrapped manically in his thick fingers as he fucked you from behind, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"yeahhh, that's what 'm fucking talking' about." He growled as he stared at your pretty tear stained face. All that damn expensive makeup you wore just for him to find a game in trying to take it off by tears alone was comical to him. Your legs felt like jelly, and the mean arch you were in was borderline painful, but he hit it so fucking good!

"ah-ah-ah!" You cried as his rough thrusts hit deeper and deeper. Your eyes rolled and crossed and molded into hers as you felt him in your gut. He planned this, that's what's so infuriating about this. He had the condoms ready, the fresh tattoo of your name, small, but visible right above his dick. He had all the right things to say and things to do to get you to the point of letting this- stranger fuck you!

"T-Toj-" he cut you off as he brought his lips to your ear in a mean smile as he stared at your tear-stricken face in the mirror. "Shhhh, princess. Just let me take care of you." He chuckled. His hand that was on your hip was now on your breast, fondling and pulling at the nipple. He moved his other hand from your hair to your neck so he could pull you up, and fuck you like that. God you were so hot. He just wanted you all to his self. For 5 fucking years he wanted you. Yeah, it was creepy, maybe just a little, but he never did anything diabolical! He put posters and pictures of you up in his son's room so he has an excuse to see your face. He always saved your photos, screenshot them from any platform you posted them on and put them into a hidden album. He never missed an album or single released from you. He wished he could travel the world with you to see you at every concert you had, but he wasn't a millionaire.

"Love this pussy, love this body, love this voice, and fuck I love you." Any person in their right mind would find his words creepy, but you weren't in the right mind, you didn't even think you had one at the moment. His words only brought you closer to your release. After a while, he let go of your tit and neck and pulled out. He picked you up like a doll and brought you to the couch in the dressing room. He sat down and had his arms around your legs in a full nelson. He inserted himself and began fucking you like that. He let out the hottest groan you've ever heard and you cried from pleasure in this new position.

"Fuck me!" You whined as he chuckled. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, nothing but spit and teeth as he fucked up into you. He muttered things no woman would want to hear from a stranger.

"Makin' it real hard not to put a baby into you, just so everyone can know you're mine.. maybe take ya home with me, show you off to my kid..you know he'd love it, right? He wouldn't let you go, oh no he wouldn't. How's that sound? Knock you off this high horse your own and mommify you, domesticate you." No, no, no, he didn't mean that, he couldn't have. But of course, you didn't reply. You brain was mush. All these words did were turn you on to the point you came without letting him know.

"Naughty fuckin' girl. Did I say you could cum? So fucking greedy, don't know what to do with ya." He meanly said. He started rubbing your cunt, continuing to fuck you. "Since you like cumming so much, let's just see how much more you can, princess."

Stupid backstage pass.

NANAMI KENTO ☆ post premier.

Oh the actor life. Full of filming, premiers, releases, interviews, fame. You were currently one of the highest trending actresses of 2024. Next to Margot Robbie, Zendaya, hell even Anne Hathaway. You had movies, after movies, after shows coming out for a couple of years, and each a rising hit. You were currently at the red carpet of your newest movie. You wore a beautiful black dress that was tight and long. It had a draped back, that showed off your beautifully toned and clear back. The draped part hung low and perfect right above your ass, and your hair was just as pretty. It was a wig that looked stunning on you. It was long, and the curled layers added to the elegance. You were currently resting your hand on your co-star, Kento. He was new to the acting industry, but any movie you were in with any co-star made every actor seem like an A-list actor.

The paparazzi and journalists loved your chemistry the best. Kento was a fine man. Had good morals, spoke nothing but respect and admiration for you at interviews. He had high respect for you in person with the way he looked, spoke, and touched you. He kept his hands to himself, or at respectable places on your body like your arm, which many other co-stars didn't. If he saw your dress was slipping down too much, or the people taking a gazillion photos of you focused on your chest or lower region, he'd cover it up with his hand or body. Those actions didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Everyone praised and fawned over your relationship. It almost seemed like your relationship in the romance movie was...real.

You and Kento soon began to enter the elegant and high class theater, but before, you were pulled gently by him for an interview with a well known journalist for a well known magazine.

"Kento, y/n. Tell us about the dynamics in your movie before it's released to the public." The Australian man asked, more focused on Kento for the moment.

"Well, our characters are from 2 completely different worlds. Y/n's character is lively, fun, not as well off as my character, but she brings joy to the people around her, like in real life. She brings joy everywhere she goes. My character is more reserved, well off, and a bit more modest and stoic. Much more like myself, I prefer to stay out of the spotlight. I think it's a very common trope in most romance movies, but the plot and acting really make our movie stand out, and I'm excited for all to see." Kento said as he looked at me, the journalist and camera.

"And as for you, Y/n?"

You smiled and looked at Kento. "Just as he said, but I'd like to add that our characters may be completely different, but they fit together so well. I think we balanced each other out quite well, and as you will see in the movie when it comes out, the chemistry between them seems almost fanciful. But I think that's what true love should look like." You smiled up at Kento, and the journalist couldn't even tell if you were actually talking about the characters, or yourselves. He smiled, and nodded.

"Well, we're excited to watch your movie when it comes out." You and Kento nodded as well, and waved as you both began to head into the theater. You kept your hands around his arm as you both walked and he leaned down and kissed your exposed shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he looked at your face. You looked up at him and nodded.

"yes, I'm excited to watch our movie." You softly laughed as you both and many others including other co-stars and the bits team headed into the theater. You saw a few other celebrity friends of yours, and you waved to them, but you never left Kento's side. You both found your seats and sat down. This might be a late to say, but you and Kento were secretly dating. I mean, that type of chemistry in your movie and person wasn't just good friends, it was the chemistry of lovers. Everyone you knew, knew you and Kento were dating, and they all were respectful and quiet about it. I mean it was almost obvious that you both were dating though. He constantly has his hands on you, even though they could be mistaken for a co-star being kind to their other co-stars, you knew he was just being slightly possessive. He kissed your shoulder often, and when paparazzi or journalists/interviewers were out of sight, his hand wandered to your exposed lower back.

You both weren't hiding your relationship, but you also weren't super open about it because it was your relationship. And you wanted it to be strictly your guys', not the world's.

"I'm nervous about the adult scene." He muttered honestly. You laughed and placed your hand on his. He was so cute, it was hard to believe he'd, such a domestic and masculine man could be so cute. You squeezed his hand and reassured him. "Especially since we know what really went down."

You blushed and nodded. Even though the adult scene was fake, you both were into it, and in the real way. Kento did ask once if the padding they wore was necessary, and the body suit you had to wear to keep the movie 17+ and not rated R. They gave you the freedom to do what you pleased in the general sense of 'making love' and not anything more.

"I think it'll be a good trip down memory lane." You smiled. The director of the movie came on the stage in front of the screen, and gave a synopsis and introduction to the movie. He thanked us all and the movie began. Throughout the movie, many of us actors laughed and smiled about the scenes we were in. Ken often smiled and quickly told me about what he did or felt, or reminded me of the bloopers. I smiled and laughed quietly at his remarks. The adult scene came and passed, and you smiled through it all. Soon the movie came to an end and the theater erupted in claps. You and Ken had rehearsed this moment of where after the movie you'd each give your own person thank you or speech. We both got up and he helped me carefully onto the stage and began speaking.

"thank you all who showed up, watched, and enjoyed the movie. Me, Rayna, our co-star and movie team are so thankful for the opportunity to fill this movie. We hope you all enjoyed it, and will continue to." He continued in thanking individuals for a specific thing and I remained silent and had my hand on his lower back as spoke. He then clapped with everyone else when he was done, and looked at you as you began to speak. Of course, you were starting to tear up like you did with every premier. It wasn't an annoyance, and everyone knew they were tears from how proud you were of everyone and how you always have some emotional tie to the movie or show you filmed. This one was different though, because you found a lover through it. For the first time.

"I just want to thank Ken. I mean, I've done movies like his for years, and I've never felt this way for a co-star. He is brilliant, kind, hardworking, and caring, and I wouldn't wish for someone better. This is his first movie, believe it or not, and I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of everyone, but I'm proud of him." Everyone clapped and you laughed as he pulled you into a hug. You cried into the hug and everyone clapped and cheered.

After the premier, you and Kento were in the car on your way back to your house. He wanted to celebrate with you for the movie. There were already good remarks from critics, and the movie is already trending without even being out. You reached your mansion, and entered the cold but warm place. You got out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. Ken as well.

You both sat on your couch and enjoyed some wine and champagne. You sat there in his shirt and panties. He in a shirt and his dress pants from the evening. You smiled as you both sat there in comfortable silence.

"I'm so proud of you, love." He finally said. His eyes were staring ahead as he took a sip from his glass. "So damn proud of you." He then looked at you and smiled. You smiled back.

"I'm so proud of you. You made this my favorite movie I've ever filmed."

"And you made my first movie the best movie I've ever filmed." He said warmly, setting his glass down, and taking yours from your hand, setting it down. He pulled you into his lap, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck and sighed contently. You threaded your fingers in his blonde locks and rested your head on his.

He softly moaned to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and gently kissed your chest over the shirt. You smiled, and settled further into his lap. He groaned slightly and gripped your hips. "Don't move like that, love, you know it was hard enough to keep myself under control when you were in that dress.

"We're alone now, what's there to hold back?" You smiled mischievously and slowly began to grind on him. He groaned again, and looked up at you, once neat and smooth hair, now messy and fluffy. His eyes bore into yours as he groaned again. You looked down at him and bit your lip with a smile. "What's wrong, ken?" You asked innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head, pulling you down on his clothed cock harder. "You know, y/n, that adult scene gave me ideas." He muttered as he ran his hands over your waist. "How it must feel to just make love..all night." You blushed at his words.

"Y-Yeah?" You stuttered as your face felt warm.

"yeah. I think we should try it again but for real this time." He smirked. "How's that sound, love?"

You felt impossibly warmer. You guys never 'made love' quote on quote. You didn't fuck either.. you guys barely made it past kissing and dry humping, so now he wants to make love. I mean, who were you to refuse.

"I would like that, ken..a lot." You smiled. He smiled back and nodded. He then began to kiss your neck gently, pressing warm but cold and wet kisses to your neck. His hands slipped under his shirt (that you wore) and caressed your soft body. You moved your head to give him more access, and you softly moaned. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, exposing your body, now only in the black panties you chose to wear. He marveled at your body, eyes never leaving your chest. He smiled, and moved his kisses from your neck, to your collarbone and below. He took his time with you. He wanted you to feel his love for you, every single drop. His kisses were deliberate and targeted. His kisses made your tummy heat up, and thighs wanting to close, but his legs which you were sitting on prevented such.

"K-Ken-..more please.." you muttered as your hands gripped his hair tighter. He nodded and gently bit your chest. "As you wish love." He had his hands on your hips as he laid your nearly naked body onto the couch. He slipped off his shirt, and undid his pants, sliding them down. "Tell me what you want, love."

No, no, no.. not this, please. You internally begged. You hated when he did this, you just wanted him to touch you where it hurt, where it begged for him. "Kennn!" You whined. He knew what he was doing! He smirked. That damn smirk that makes you melt and fold in ways no other man has ever gotten you to do. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your lips. "I'm sorry baby, you know how I am. Tell me what you want, and you'll get it, I promise." He smiled as he almost babied you, which you really didn't mind.

"Mmm, touch me..down there.." you muttered, now feeling shy. He smiled and brought his hands to your lower stomach. "Here?" He smiled. You whined and he chuckled. "You gotta be a little more specific love, there's a lot "down there"."

You huffed and wrapped your legs around his waist. "Kennn! You know where!" He tried to act like he didn't and you groaned. "I wanna feel you in me!" He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Better." He then hooked his fingers into the panties, and pulled them up your legs, you immediately unlocking them from his waist so he could pull them off. He pulled off his boxers as well, his angry tip slapping against his stomach. You looked down at his cock, it was so pretty. You've only seen it once before, but not for something like this. He reached into his wallet which was in his pants pocket and pulled out a condom.

"No." You sat up and grabbed the condom, throwing it away from you both. He looked at you with furrowed brows. "Honey?" He asked confused why you did that. You now felt sheepish but you stayed firm. "I-I want you inside.. I wanna feel all of you."

"Are you sure?" He asked carefully. He was hoping you were sure of what you were implying. He had no problem with it, but it could lead to a longer term issue. A child. You nodded and locked your legs around his waist again. "I'm sure, now please put it in..I just wanna feel you, that's all, please." He couldn't say no to that cute face. Your cute body, he just couldn't. So he lined himself up, and remained hovering over you.

"Take some deep breaths, love." He whispered as he slowly inserted his thick tip. You gasped and held onto him, arms wrapped around his neck and back, nails scratching. He paused and waited till you calmed down before he slowly inserted himself. He was so thick, and long, and God did it feel glorious. When you gave him the okay, it was like a whole new world was opened. You weren't new to sex, you've had a few hookups throughout the years, but they were never this intimate, this intense. Kento cared about you and your well-being over his own pleasure, and to be honest, you think he finds pleasure in your well-being! He grunted as his pace increased and each grunt sent another deep pang of butterflies into your tummy. You moaned and whimpered into his ear at how good he felt. It was so overwhelming that a tear slid down your cheek. No words were said throughout this moment. He kissed your tears and lips. He kissed your nose and cheeks. He loved you, but he wouldn't say it until you did. He didn't wanna scare you off.

He hit so deep, and the mixture of pleasure, and security you felt made it 10x better. "K-Ken- fuck, it's so good, it's so, so, good, please don't stop." You cried as he continued his pace, increasing the speed of it slightly. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn't do it before you, he couldn't.

"sweetheart, you-fuck, you close?" He groaned as he felt himself too close. You whined and nodded. He tapped his shoulder repeatedly as you came and that's all it took for him to come inside. He captured your lips in a kiss as he fucked you both through it. It was too good, too fucking good, and you both felt it. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and he chuckled.

"I'm hard again."

CHOSO KAMO ☆ cute stalker.

There you were. Walking through all those paparazzi wannabe's. They wish you looked at them like you did him. They wished you got on your knees for them like you did him. They wanted to be him so bad, your lover. Except, you didn't even know who he was. You never met him, seen him, touched him. It was all in his head. Choso wasn't crazy, he swears he's not. He just likes every photo, video, interview you were in, your account or not. He would constantly buy new phones from himself constantly breaking them from throwing them from seeing you with another man. He wanted you all to his self.

He wasn't crazy, he swears he isn't. He just wants the love of his life all to himself, that's all. I mean how could he not, you were beautiful, and you always look at him, every time you follow him you see him, you smile and wave at him. No you didn't. He follows you and whatever way you look and he happens to be secretly stalking you from, he thinks that's you looking at him. But, you have met, once. At your meet and greet. He was so excited to see you, and he did, but he let something slip out that got him kicked out. He said he'd kill for you. He was dead serious, but he didn't mean he'd ACTUALLY kill FOR YOU! He just meant he'd protect you. But there's been too many cases of celebrities being killed by crazy fans who have the "if I can't have you, no one will" mentality. But he'd never kill you, he wants you for real and not in the afterlife.

So here he was, deliberately walking towards you, pushing past paparazzi, and straight to you. He was nervous. The bouquet in his hands, the chocolate in his other. The large teddy bear with your name on its tummy squeezed tight to his chest, he was ready. But just as he was about to reach you, he was yanked away by a security guard. The security guard threw him into the wall yelling at him to step away. He cried out, and you widened your eyes at the contact. You pushed the security guard away and rushed to him despite the other security stopping you.

"Are you okay?! Why the hell did you do that!?" You asked Chris, and yelled at the security. The security didn't look sorry for hurting Choso, but a bit startled at your yelling. You gently brought your hand to the back of his head which was bleeding from the impact, and frowned. You gathered the flowers that thankfully stayed together, the chocolate, and bear and handed it to him. "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

He didn't take the gifts and nodded. "Those are for you..and I'm okay.." he was fighting tears, but not from pain, from you being so close to him. His dream girl. You smiled at his words on how those gifts were for you. You looked at the bear and clutched it to your pretty chest, oh the chest that he'd bury his face in for decades. He stared at your pretty face as you talked to him. You were inviting him to eat with you, but all he heard was "bla bla bla, I love you, bla bla bla." He'd probably explode if his head wasn't elsewhere at your invite. You noticed his dazed expression and softly laughed, tapping his cheek.

"hello?" He shook himself out of his fantasy and looked at you when you got his attention. "Do you want to have lunch with me? To apologize for what my security did?" Did he hear you right?! The paparazzi was continuously snapping photos of them, but he didn't care. He nodded and smiled, with your help, stood up. You were slightly shorter than him, and he couldn't help but find you adorable as you held his hand and pulled him into the restaurant you were going to dine in. It was a celebrity restaurant meant for no flash photography or paparazzi in general. You got a table and sat across from him, your security remained at the table next to you.

"I'm really sorry about that, your head is bleeding.." I frowned when I looked at my hand which touched his head a bit ago. He waved you off, too focused on your casual beauty. He knew you weren't wearing makeup, and how cute you looked without it. You let him order whatever he wanted, and you smiled and chatted with him. Each sentence, word, syllable that came out of your mouth made him even more obsessed with you. All those months of following you did not go in vain. It was all worth it. This would be a life lesson to you all who read this, good things comes to those who wait.

You found yourself finding the man kind of..cute? He had this cute purple hue under his eyes, and his 2 spikey buns were adorable. He smiled and was attentive to you, and you couldn't help but enjoy his company. You must have enjoyed it too much, because here you were, in the bathroom of that restaurant sucking him off.

"Aha, y-y/n.." he moaned your name as you licked and sucked his cock. It was so good, so yummy. You enjoyed the feeling of it laying heavy in your mouth. He thought he was dreaming, the delusion finally winning, but no, here he was getting head from his favorite actress. You brought your tits to his cock, and began pushing them together and squeezing his cock with them. He didn't know what to do with his hands. Does he put them on the sink, or does he put them in your hair? You smiled up at him so devilishly that he chose the latter. You stuck your tongue out, and licked his tip with every up and down you made your tits go. Almost like a premature teen, he came over your tits and onto your tongue, chin, collarbone. You continued to stroke him, and licked up his mess.

"Mm, so pretty."

GETO SUGURU ☆ chauffeur.

You've gone through driver after driver, but they all weren't like Geto. He was your personal driver, went everywhere you did. He knew the routes you liked, he knew how to keep you entertained. He understood you when you complained to him. He was always on time to pick you up and drop you off. He knew how you liked the car you were in, the right temperature, whether you wanted the windows down or not, he also knew what Spotify playlist you'd be into, which was usually your songs. But also, he knew he was in love with you.

He always remained respectful of you, cheeky yes, but never crude or creepy. He complimented you, helped you into the car and out, always saying something about you being a "princess". He loved driving for you. He loved that you loved him driving for you. He knew he was a shoulder for you to cry on, and that's why you usually always confided in him, no matter how long the drive. You also sit in the front more often than not. Most people don't do that, but he makes you feel welcome in the front, and you like sitting in the front.

You soon found yourself way too comfortable with him. He practically was your boyfriend without the touching and title. You told him about your period, your cravings, your needs, desires, wants. You've talked about your body and how you love it or hate it. You complained to him about sexual frustration. It wasn't like you had to tell him any of that, you certainly didn't. You had many friends who you could tell that too instead, but there was something about him that was so inviting. He's also confided in you too. He talked to you about this girl he liked and how he wanted her. He talked to you about his hair and how he's happy you like it long. He's let you even do his hair in long traffic stops. You guys were like lovers without being official.

But you'd be a damn fool to say he wasn't attractive. You found yourself almost excited when he honked the horn every time he waited for you outside, or how upset you'd be when he didn't pick you up and someone else did instead. You found yourself staring at him and imagining how it'd feel for you to grip his hair as he hugged you, or did other activities. You wondered if he would be into hair pulling, or if he'd be into other things. It was inappropriate, it was weird, and it definitely wasn't the cause to the fact you're riding him in the backseat of your limo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Geto repeated as you hopped on his dick. You tugged his hair as you rolled your hips and slid up and down his lengthy cock. He captured your left tit into his mouth as his hands remained firm on your lower ribs. You moaned as your legs burned, but the feeling of his cock inside you overpowered all your senses and you prevailed. You never lent up as he has came many times, you just as many. He was completely pussy drunk off of you. Soon enough, he couldn't handle it anymore and came again. You moaned and giggled as he came inside you, you enjoyed the feeling, and your body shivered at it. You continued to grind down fervently. He let out the hottest whimpers and groans as you fucked him dry. You soon came and slowed down to a stop. He held your front to his tightly as he shook from how much he came.

"W-want to taste you.." he shamelessly admitted, pulling you gently off of him, and laid you in the gap between the driver and passenger seats so he could eat you out. He let out a shaky breath as he looked at your soppy, creamy cunt, mixed with his and your juices. He pressed his nose and lips to your cunt and began gently sucking and licking you clean. His tongue slapped up every juice from you. You moaned and your legs shook at the overstimulation. He didn't even realize how good you tasted till he found himself panting as he continued to desperately eat you out. You let out a scream in pleasure and pulled his hair.

"G-Getooo! T-too much~♡!" He groaned and continued to eat you out. He inserted his middle and ring finger and began fucking you with them. You squealed and he smiled. You tried to push his head away, legs kicking and shaking as you felt your release again.

"S-Sugu-ahhh!" You shook as you came again, your juices sprayed against his face and he let out the hardest groan, cumming himself simply from eating you out. He slowly licked you clean and pulled away, hair a bit wet from you squirting.

"First time you've given me a ride." He chuckled, kissing your thighs.

"it definitely won't be the last."

[fleshandfiction]

The Softest Surprise♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕤ

Content: Fem presenting ✦ Fluff & emotional vulnerability ✦ Pedro Pascal being husband material ✦ Reader might cry. Pedro definitely will ✦ Domestic sweetness overload ✦ Pregnancy reveal ✦

The familiar sound of Pedro's keys jiggling the lock never got old to you. Even after you moved in and got married, you still looked forward to seeing his sweet face appear from the doorway. But today was special. When you saw those two pink lines on those tests a few hours ago, you felt your heart may burst with joy.

Having children was a topic that you had talked about, but for it to happen so suddenly is a possibility that hadn't even crossed your mind. Over the last two weeks, you had been feeling under the weather, which you had just chalked up to the flu. But a voice in the back of your mind told you to buy a test.

You took one. Then a second. Third. And even a fourth. Each result made it more tangible and real than the last.

You started to think about how you could surprise him. Whether through a dramatic reveal and some balloons, or baking him his favorite cake and putting some clever pun on it. But all you truly wanted was for him to just know. Something small. Intimate. Just you and him.

So now you were standing there, box on the counter with the pregnancy tests meticulously placed as you waited for him.

When Pedro walked in, you could see he was tired. His hoodie was wrinkled. His hair was disheveled. His eyes, which are usually bright and warm, are now filled with exhaustion. The kind where you feel you could hibernate for years on end. But the moment he spots you, it's as if it all floated away.

"Mi Amor," Pedro murmured, walking up to hug you and placing his head on your chest. "I missed you so much."

His favorite place was in your arms after a long day on set. Massaging his shoulders, trailing kisses along the top of his back—which usually led to your breathing becoming heavier, him pulling you onto his lap and losing yourselves in each other's touch.

"You know just how to make me feel better," he added, as he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck.

You relished the feeling of domesticated bliss. Pedro made you feel just as he did the day you met in the cafe. He was a customer and you were his server, and the moment you walked up, it was like those slow-motion moments in rom coms. He was charming and sweet, and at the end, when you went to clean the table, you noticed he left his receipt behind with a generous tip and his number written on it.

"Baby, as much as I would love to continue this," you said, voice low and warm. "I do have a surprise to show you."

He perked up, eyes narrowing in his usual playful manner. "Surprise? What kind of surprise?"

You smiled. "Yes, a surprise. One i hope you'll love."

"Baby, you know no matter what it is, I'll love it."

Pedro's words of encouragement pushed away any nervousness or thoughts that he may suddenly doubt his decision to have kids. You picked up the box next to you on the counter, holding it out for him to take. His brow quirks in curiosity as you stand watching him open the box. The moment Pedro spotted the tests, recognition hit him like a bolt of lightning to a metal pole.

Those long, torturous seconds waiting for him to say something. Anything. But before you could take another breath, Pedro's arms wrapped around your waist, picking you up and spinning in a circle like a Disney princess. Relief flooded through you at his reaction, and seeing the smile on his face just sold it.

"Are you serious, cariño?" Pedro grinned. "A baby?" He places a hand on your stomach, caressing it as he imagines your child growing safely within.

"Yes, Pedro," you whispered, heart fluttering. "We are going to be parents."

Tears of joy flowed from your eyes as he looked at the tests again, like he was making sure they were truly real. Pedro puts down the box, kissing you like his life depended on it. You felt every ounce of love he had for you being poured into the kiss, holding you with such fervor that it made your heart skip a beat.

Finally, he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours—the two of you swaying to the sound of the TV in the background, playing some nonsensical ad. Pedro's hands framed your face as if he were holding a work of art that he gets to admire for the rest of his life.

"You are my world," he said softly, full of awe. "I love you so much. And now you are bringing something so precious into our lives. And for that, I will thank you for as long as my heart continues beating."

"You would still love me even when I get swollen ankles and can't get up from the couch by myself?" you teased, raising a brow.

“Mi amor,” he said firmly but not harshly, “Whatever changes, whatever seasons you go through, I’ll still love you. That heart of yours? It stopped mine the moment we met.”

You smiled, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You knew everything would be ok. Through every ache and pain, every moment of frustration when you can't tie your shoes yourself—Pedro would be there.

"We in this together?" you asked, voice warm, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

Pedro nodded, eyes shining. "Always. From swollen ankles, to midnight cravings, to every beautiful chaos in between."

He pressed his forehead against yours once more, humming a song. And there with your husband and the future growing inside you, you felt complete. Whole. And irrevocably at peace.

[coquettepascal]

purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin. 

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you. 

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play. 

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you. 

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed. 

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him. 

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you. 

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body. 

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles. 

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts. 

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases. 

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond. 

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him. 

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs. 

[rottingpink]

house of balloons | choi "thanos" su-bong

cw: cnc, college! thanos, college! reader, BULLYING, degradation, groping, recording, harassment, minor noncon, daddy kink, oral, allusions to virgin! reader, pussy inspections, innocent reader, coercion, reader and thanos are both of age, somno, voyeurism, rough sex, backshots, raw sex, MDNI

synopsis: college! thanos as the sweet reader's bully

masterlist

college bully! thanos resents the way you walk around campus. You're nothing like him. So prim and proper and graceful. You're the type of girl most mothers would rejoice over if her son brought you home.

college bully! thanos scowls every time he sees you prance through the halls. You’re always surrounded by a big group of people. It infuriates him to see that you're so adored, by professors, TA's, other students... all gushing over you like you’re some prized heifer.

In college bully! thanos' mind, it's impossible for someone to be so perfect. You're popular, of course, in the student council, in too many clubs for him to keep track of, you're in a nice, fancy program that he couldn't get accepted into if he sold his soul to the admission's office, and worst of all, you're so fucking pretty.

Pretty enough to make his heart stop when he sees you. Pretty enough for him to drop what he's doing and stare at you.

college bully! thanos gets pissed when he sees that you pretend like you have no fucking clue what kind of effect you have on him. Like you don’t realize how everyone gawks at you. Like you don’t notice how even he, big, brooding, mean him, gets fucking tongue-tied if you so much as look his way.

Nothing in life has ever been fair to him, but somehow, looking at you makes him feel the bitter sting of it more than ever.

And it pisses him off.

college bully! thanos is dumb. He knows he is. School never came easy to him. It’s a fucking miracle he even got into college, but that miracle doesn’t mean shit when he spends every semester barely scraping by.

And you? You’re perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect reputation. Perfect fuckable body.

You don’t deserve it. And so he shows you you don't.

college bully! thanos makes your life miserable to show you what struggle is. At least, that's what he tells himself. He's only doing it to put you in your place. Nothing more.

You can't go anywhere anymore without running into him, because he ensures you meet him at least three times a day. He doesn't just tease or mock you, though. He puts his hands on you.

It started normal. Tripping you in the halls and tugging your hair in lectures and tugging the fabric of your thong when he's walking behind you and snapping it against your skin, and when you turn to him and whimper and ask him to stop, he just tells you that you're imagining things to find excuses to talk to him.

"What, you tryna throw yourself at me now?" college bully! thanos laughs meanly, giving your waist a hard squeeze after he catches you when you're falling because he tripped you. "Didn’t know you were that desperate, princess."

You squeak in surprise, feeling the warmth of his big hands on your body. You barely knew him before he just decided he wanted to bully you, and you can't figure out what his problem with you is. You've never even spoken to him, after all, and he just decided one day that he hated you and wanted to punish you. Your sweet little brain can’t grasp the fact that college bully! thanos is so hot for you that it makes him angry.

college bully! thanos couldn’t keep his hands off you if he tried. He waits outside your lectures just to grope at your soft body while degrading you, pushes his crotch up against your ass when he’s behind you in line.

"Why so tense, princess?" he murmurs, voice a lazy drawl. "Ain’t like I’m gonna bite." And then, just because he can, he smacks your ass. Hard enough for the flesh to jiggle and bounce back into place in a way that dumbs his brain down a whole lot.

You whip around, cheeks burning, lips parted to yell, and he just grins. Like he owns you. Like he knows you won’t do shit about it. You’re too sweet. Too much of a pushover. "Su-bong..!" you whisper-shout weakly. "You… y-you can’t just do that in public! it’s indecent…"

college bully! thanos cuts you off like you shouldn’t have the right to talk back to him. "Damn," he muses, tilting his head. "You make a noise like that in bed, baby?" And then he leaves. Leaves you standing there, humiliated, flustered, furious.

college bully! thanos knows you’re the type of girl he’s not supposed to have. The type of girl who’d laugh if he ever tried to ask you out. The type of girl who probably spreads her legs for rich frat boys who drive nice cars and have bright futures lined up for them. You’d never be with him.

And that upsets him. The thought of you being anyone’s but his makes him really really fucking mad.

So college bully! thanos voices it everytime he sees you.

"Bet you think you’re real fucking special, huh?" His voice is low, condescending, right next to your ear. "Walkin’ around like some untouchable little angel. But we both know you’re just a spoiled, cock-hungry brat."

You jerk against his hold, struggling as tears build in your waterline. Your hands fly up to push against his chest, but it’s useless, because he’s solid and strong and so big compared to you. Your lip wobbles with frustration.

You don’t know how or why this is happening to you, but you can’t do anything about it. He said he’d fuck you stupid if you told anyone, and so you keep your mouth shut the best you can.

"L–let me go," you stammer, embarrassed and scared. He shoves you into one of the bathrooms as soon as you say it, locking you together in a stall. He lowers himself to be eye level with you and gets in your face, sneering. 

"Bet you’ve let half the guys in this school bend you over already," college bully! thanos hisses, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, feeling how fucking soft you are. It makes his stomach churn. "How many professors did you have to suck off to get those perfect grades, sweetheart?"

You suck in a sharp breath, your hands shaking as you look up at him.

college bully! thanos is so mean. You work hard for your grades, and that’s the truth! You wouldn’t want people thinking otherwise. Thinking that you’d debase yourself to selling your body for an A that you didn’t deserve. "You know I don’t do that, Su-Bong," You say weakly, your voice wavering. You don’t want to cry. 

college bully! thanos slides a hand lower, gripping a handful of your ass through your little skirt, squeezing like it belongs to him. You let out a soft gasp, trying to twist out of his grip, but his other hand is already fisting in your hair, forcing your head back to look up at him.

college bully! thanos can’t stop. Not when you smell this good. Not when you feel this nice against him. Not when your body is practically molded against his front, and his cock is already swelling up and getting stiff just from the way you’re shaking under his hands.

"You can cut the innocent act," he breathes, his grip tightening on your hair just enough to sting. "You know exactly what you are. And so does every guy on this campus. So I might as well get the same treatment, right princess? It’s only fair," 

And with that, he lowers you down to your knees and makes you suck his cock for your whole study period in the dingy boys washroom when anyone could walk in and hear the gluk gluk gluk sounds of your mouth being fucked by your own bully.

Not to mention, college bully! thanos records you. Naturally.

college bully! thanos makes you give him your number and sends you the video of you choking on his fat cock and threatens to send it to the school administration if you keep ignoring him and pretending like you're too good for him. You hastily respond, begging, for him not to share it and that it'll destroy you. He wasn't going to share it, obviously, because it's intimate and special to him and he wants it all to himself, but your begging does something to him that he likes a whole lot.

college bully! thanos always spent whatever free time he has milking his cock and fucking his fist to your social media and tagged photos, and now that he has something over you, he can get even better material with no hassle. He makes you have phone sex with him, makes you send him voice notes of you calling him daddy and begging him to fill you up with his cream, and makes you send him nudes.

Then, because college bully! thanos considers himself a gentleman, he rewards you by sending flowers to your dorm, as well as candy and chocolate, stuffed animals, and pretty underwear with a note in the box asking you to send pictures of you in them.

When college bully! thanos sees you in person though, he's on you instantly like a rabid dog, kissing you so hard and so deep that you have to take several seconds to catch your breath when it's over. He makes lewd comments about the stuff you send him and makes you thank him for not sharing it.

"What do you say, beautiful?"

You flush warmly, looking away, but he shakes his head and grabs your neck in his hand, turning your head to face him. "Look at me when you say it. Or else."

You swallow thickly and look right in his eyes. "T-thank you daddy..."

college bully! thanos is gross. He eventually brings you up to his dorm and just lays down with his face between your legs so he can smell your pretty little pussy and do inspections on you.

Your face is flushed and you hide yourself in your arms as he noses at your pussy. "N-ngh... d-daddy... d-do we have to do this?"

He scowls and slides a thick finger inside you, pumping it in and out slowly and watching how your tight pussy sucks his digit in and out like a vice, all while he inhales the scent of your arousal. "Obviously, dummy. Gotta make sure my baby hasn't been around with anyone else. Everyone wants to fuck my girl and I'm not letting them."

college bully! thanos says he's just making sure that your puffy little hole is undefiled and fresh, but then his pussy inspections always end up in him slurping on your cunt like a man starved. He makes you cum on his face at least twice a day.

college bully! thanos doesn't tell you that he always nuts in his boxers when he's eating you out because you taste heavenly. He can never calm down and still his hips when he's tasting you. He has to hump the mattress like a puppy.

college bully! thanos wasn't planning to fuck you. He wanted to, badly, but he knew that if he went all the way, he'd get so fucking attached and wouldn't ever want to leave you. He already knew he was starting to like you way too much.

college bully! thanos would wake up to you, since he made you sleep in his dorm every night and fall asleep to kissing you and holding you, be with you all day, groping, touching, sucking on your tongue, and your tits, and your pussy, and fall asleep to you with you on his chest.

He'd never tell you he liked you, but it seemed like you were starting to too. You weren't resistant anymore. You'd ask to hold hands when he was sucking on your clit. You gave him kisses and helped him with his school work.

God, you did dangerous things to college bully! thanos, and he didn't like it.

But then, one day, college bully! thanos saw some stupid fucking idiot hugging up on you and you were giggling and letting him hold your ass like some stupid little whore. How could you be so clueless? You were his! How did you not realize this guy wanted the same from you? You couldn't belong to two people. Thanos knew his guy was trying to make a move on you and he was going to make sure he'd regret it.

college bully! thanos got the boy's name from you, and while you were sleeping that night, he opened your phone and texted him. From your messages, it seemed like you two were old friends. Maybe from high school. Maybe family friends. He didn't care. No one but him could touch you. No one but him could look at you.

college bully! thanos texted the boy that you needed help and to come to your dorm immediately, and in the meantime, he gently turned you onto your back, stroking your soft, shiny hair with one hand and gently groping your tits with his other hand. His cock twitched at the little sleepy mewls that left your mouth, and he shushes you softly and begins to pull down your panties. He forbade you from wearing pants when you were sleeping beside him.

college bully! thanos pries your legs apart and removes your shirt. His mouth waters as your full, perky boobs are on display for him, and the way your nipples harden at the feeling of the cool air hitting them. He licks a broad stripe over one of them, sucking one into his mouth and releasing it with a wet pop, before slobbering on both of them at once.

In the meantime, college bully! thanos sticks his fingers, two at a time, in your sopping little pussy, stretching you and getting you nice and wet for his cock. He guides your little hands to his fat fucking cock, half hard already, and makes you jerk him off so he can put his cock in you as soon as possible.

By the time your idiot cuck friend gets to your dorm, which he left unlocked, he finds you bent over, facing the door. drool, snot, and tears coat your face as he pulls your hair back so you can look at him. Your friend freezes, making eye contact with you as Thanos stretches you out with each thrust, pounding into you hard.

college bully! thanos has one thumb in your butt, watching you clench down on him as you babble incoherently. His heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy with each thrust, fucking you into a dumb little mess in front of the same boy you used to play with in primary school.

Your body jolts with each thrust, ass bouncing back against his cock as your pussy sucks him in greedily. You're hardly coherent, drool dripping down your chin while your friend watches in disbelief, a hand discreetly rubbing at the growing bulge in his jeans.

"Su!" You cry out, moaning loudly. You've never been fucked like this before. Not with a cock so fat, not by a guy who acted like he hated your guts and wanted you all to himself at the same time. He tugs your hair back a little tighter. "That's right, princess, tell your little friend who makes you feel so good…"

"Ngh…" Your tongue lolls out of your mouth. Thanos' cock plunges so deep inside you that you can swear you can feel him in your womb. Your legs shake as you struggle to accommodate his size. "Daddy does…mmh- m-makes me feel s’good,” you slur out your words like you’re drunk off him.

He can feel you tightening around him, your pussy fluttering and clenching desperately as the his cock fills you. His thumb presses roughly against your puckered hole, applying pressure. Your friend finally catches his bearings enough to stumble out of the room with flushed cheeks and a stiff cock.

college bully! thanos tells you to be his girlfriend right after he fills you to the hilt with his cum.

[f1-mcmuffin]

GIRLL I LOVEE THE 5th MEMBER AU I HOPE U WILL MAKE IT INTO A SERIESS😆😆

I HAVE A IDEA MAYBE WHERE SHE WAS WITH LISA IN THE MIAMI GP

AND MAYBE WHERE LANDO AND THE OTHER DRIVERS AND WAGS WERE ATCHING THEIR CONCERT

Spotlight & Slipstream pt. 2

(Requested) Lando Norris x 5th Member of BLACKPINK Reader

| Lando Norris Masterlist | Main Masterlist | PART 1 | Spotlight & Slipstream Masterlist |

I’ve never been to a BLACKPINK concert but I have been to an Ateez concert so I used my knowledge from that.

Sorry, it took me so long to come up with this. I'm trying to work on my other Lando story and keep up with some requests I’ve been receiving

Later in the Day (Barcelona) — Late Afternoon

The golden-hour sun spilled like honey over the cobbled streets of El Born, casting long, lazy shadows over the terrace café. The scent of grilled prawns, espresso, and sunscreen drifted through the air, mingling with the slow rhythm of Catalan conversations and the clink of cutlery. Under a striped umbrella, Lando sat with his chair tipped back, sipping lemonade through a straw as the condensation dripped down the glass.

Across from him, she looked sun-kissed and effortlessly cool — oversized vintage tee knotted at the waist, ripped baggy jeans, Landos’ gold chain glinting against her collarbone. Her sunglasses were pushed into her hair, and she was focused on the last few fries on his plate, stealing them one by one with lazy precision.

“I swear,” she mumbled with a dramatic sigh, “if I eat one more backstage cheese platter, I might lose my mind. Like — why is it always brie? What did cheddar ever do to deserve this slander?”

Lando chuckled around a mouthful of his sandwich. “Guess that’s the glamorous popstar life.”

she leaned forward, her elbows on the table, scrolling through texts from the girls. Her screen lit up with messages from her members. 

She looked up suddenly. “Hey,” she said casually, as if it had just occurred to her, “you’ve never actually seen me perform, have you?”

He blinked, wiping chip crumbs off his lip. “What?”

“You’ve never been to a BLACKPINK show,” she repeated, leveling him with a look. “Not even one.”

Lando shrugged defensively. “I’ve seen videos.”

“Not the same.” She made a face. “That’s like me saying I’ve experienced F1 because I played Mario Kart once. Doesn’t count.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, first of all, Mario Kart is elite—”

She cut him off with a smirk. “Second of all, we’ve got a show in Paris next weekend. It’s sold out. Obviously.” She popped a fry in her mouth and spoke around it. “And I already checked the race calendar. You’re free.”

He tilted his head, skeptical. “You checked my calendar?”

“I checked your calendar,” she repeated. “And I saved space backstage for you, the drivers, the WAGs.”

He raised a brow. “You’re inviting the entire grid to a BLACKPINK concert?”

She shrugged, lips curling at the corner. “They owe me. I sat through seventy-eight laps of engine noise and everyone smelling like brake dust. Time to return the favor.”

Lando leaned forward on his elbows, taking her hand and brushing his thumb over her knuckles before bringing it to his lips. “You sure the world’s ready for that crossover?”

she grinned, eyes sparkling. “Ready or not, they’re getting it.”

Twitter/X;

Yourusername tweeted “Guess who’s coming to next week's concert?🙈”

@speedgirlie if lando shows up at a blackpink concert in a pink hoodie i’m gonna pass out

@blackpinksbrainrot SHE INVITED THE F1 GRID TO PARIS 😭 She is INSANE for this. iconic. queen behavior.

@itsjustjord imagine carmen, kika, and lily in the BLACKPINK VIP section losing their minds to ‘Shut Down’ and then pierre filming it 😭

@grandprixtea you just know carlos and charles are gonna try to look cool until ‘Kill This Love’ hits and it’s over

@notyourengineer the crossover we didn’t know we needed — BLACKPINK IN YOUR PIT LANE

@lanprincess if she performs 'Tally' while looking Lando dead in the eyes… we riot in the streets respectfully

Paris — Bercy Arena, One Week Later

Lando just added to their story

The stadium pulsed like a living organism, humming with neon energy and adrenaline. Pink lights danced along every surface, illuminating the packed sea of fans — thousands of blinking lightsticks swaying in unison like fireflies.

The BORN PINK logo flashed on the screens overhead, looping iconic BLACKPINK videos that the crowd screamed along to with full-volume precision. The bass was deep enough to vibrate through ribcages.

In the VIP pit, directly at the front of the stage, a cluster of very confused Formula 1 drivers looked like they’d accidentally wandered into an alien dimension.

Lando stood front and center, his black hoodie pulled low and a "(Y/N) IS MY BIAS" headband shoved on his curls — courtesy of Kika, who had cackled while strapping it to him in the hotel. His cheeks were already stickered with tiny pastel hearts. He tugged on the sleeves and glanced around, mildly dazed.

“This is�� intense,” he muttered, watching fans crying before the show even began.

Carlos leaned toward George, eyes wide. “Why are people already crying? Did we miss something?”

Kika, sitting beside him in a rhinestone-covered jacket, just smirked. “Because this isn’t a concert. It’s a religion.”

Alex nodded in solemn agreement. “It’s like Ferrari and the Tifosi.”

Carlos blinked, gears turning. “Ohhh…” he said, visibly connecting the dots as he scanned the arena. “That explains the screaming.”

Behind them, Charles wore a glittery “Pretty Savage” sash over his Prada shirt and held a Jisoo fan in one hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. George was juggling a tray of mochi and a limited-edition lightstick, eyes wide with amusement. “Mate, we’re in the middle of a K-pop rave.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Carmen grinned, looping her arm around his and tugging him closer. She wore a Lisa tee and matching cat ears — totally unbothered and thriving. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the matching skirt.”

Pierre, in a BLACKPINK bomber jacket he insisted was “borrowed,” bobbed his head in time with Boombayah. Kika was beside him, animatedly teaching him the hand choreo.

“No, no, babe — boom bah YAH, not boom bah yeahhhh,” she shouted over the music. “There’s a difference!”

Meanwhile, Lando was holding up a handful of photocards like poker chips. “Okay, wait—who’s trading?” he said, scanning the group of teenage girls beside them. “I’ve got three Rosés, I want my girlfriend.”

A girl in a pink bucket hat gasped. “I’ll trade you for a Rosé!” She paused, her jaw dropping. “Wait—you’re Lando Norris, right?!”

Lando grinned. “Guilty. And I’m officially a BLINK now.”

Around him, the chaos only grew louder. Charles and Carlos were comparing their photocard pulls like kids in a schoolyard. George was handing out mochi like snacks at a birthday party. Rebecca and Alexandra were having their own photoshoot with the stage glowing pink behind them.

Carmen handed Lando another sticker sheet. “Put this on your cheek. You’re not fully committed yet.”

He groaned but obediently stuck a tiny sparkly heart on his face. “If the McLaren media team sees this, I’m blaming all of you.”

And then — everything changed.

The stadium lights dipped into sudden darkness. A wave of shrieking thundered through the arena, instant and deafening. On the giant screen, BLACKPINK’s latest MV burst to life, and the audience erupted, chanting every line, stomping in time, waving their lightsticks in perfect sync.

Even Carlos, startled by the sheer sound, clapped his hands over his ears. “This is louder than Monza!”

Lando couldn’t look away — the lights, the fans, the way the girls beside him were lit up like teenagers again, dancing with no care for who was watching.

He turned to Pierre, who was still holding his lightstick high like a torch. “We’ve been to Grands Prix around the world, but this—this might be the loudest crowd I’ve ever seen.”

Pierre just smirked and leaned in. “Welcome to the pink side.”

And when the lights dropped, the floor practically shook.

Lando didn’t think. He lifted his lightstick, let out a shout, and joined the storm. Tonight wasn’t about engines or trophies. It was about letting go. About dancing until your voice cracked. About watching the girl he loved rule an arena with a mic in her hand and stars in her eyes and for once, he wasn’t the one being cheered for — and he was totally okay with that.

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

BANG.

The arena shook as the opening beat detonated through the air like a cannon blast. LED walls erupted in pink lightning, strobes firing off in every direction. Backup dancers stormed the runway in slick, powerful formations, hips hitting each beat like war drums as they stalked toward the main stage. The audience screamed as if the roof was being torn off. Then came the synths—dark, cinematic, venomous.  “Pink Venom.”

Lando practically jumped out of his skin. “Oh sh—!” he blurted, flinching as columns of fire exploded from the stage, perfectly timed to the bass. 

They appeared—stepping into formation like goddesses summoned from myth, all dressed in varying shades of pure white, glowing under the pink neon floodlights.

She took center stage, her corset catching the light like diamonds. White Givenchy boots, shorts hugging her hips, every inch of her radiating danger and allure. It was elegant. It was lethal. Oscar’s jaw was somewhere on the floor.

Charles slapped Pierre’s chest. “We’re not surviving this.”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

They leaned their heads back in sync then strutted to their spots on stage, hair tossed, eyes locked with the crowd, bodies clicking into place like living weapons.

“Kick in the door, waving the coco!” Jennie’s voice slashed through the stadium. The crowd erupted again. Alex physically clutched Charles’s arm. “OH MY GOD.”

Carlos gave a low whistle. “Okay, that’s how you start a concert.”

She moved with a kind of power that didn’t feel learned. It was primal. Her hips hit the beat like they were casting spells. Her face was sharp, magnetic, playful, untouchable.

“This that pink venom, this that pink venom…”

“Straight to ya dome like—whoa, whoa, whoa…”

“Taste that pink venom…”

It wasn’t just her singing. It was the way she devoured the stage, all precision and confidence. When she stepped forward, the earth practically tilted. Charles elbowed Lando, eyes wide. “You didn’t tell us she was like this.”

Lando didn’t blink. “She’s insane,” There was something surreal about seeing her under stadium lights, thousands screaming her name, Onstage, she threw him a wink mid-step like it was nothing, and Lando forgot how to breathe. He leaned closer to Charles, still not looking away.

“She’s different when she’s up there.” Charles just nodded, face slack. He got it.

Then came the outro:

“I BRING THE PAIN LIKE…”

DA-RA-TA-TA, DA-RA-TA-TA-TA—

Fire exploded behind her like a war cry. Carlos jumped six inches off his seat. “She’s LETHAL!” he gasped.

Lando flinched again, instinctively shielding his face from the heat. “Okay, damn,” he muttered. His voice was soft. Reverent. Eyes wide.

Lando turned to George, awestruck. “Why do I feel like I’m falling in love again?” George wheezed. “YOU’RE DOWN BAD, BRO.”

Pierre, mouth open, barely blinked. “That’s her? Your Girlfriend?”

Lando didn’t even answer. He couldn’t look away from the way she rolled her shoulders into a body wave that somehow made the LED screen look too small. Couldn’t believe this was the same girl who wore his hoodie and fell asleep on his chest during movie nights. This was a storm in stilettos.

Fans in the VIP section were unhinged — screaming lyrics, waving lightsticks in choreographed perfection, crying, filming, dancing like it was salvation. A girl beside George was sobbing while holding a her photocard to her chest like a relic.

The song ended. Lights cut to black. Smoke blanketed the stage.

The drivers stood there like they’d just made it through a typhoon.

“That was just one song?” Carlos blinked.

The lights came back, all five girls standing in line, eyes gleaming.

“Hana, dul, set—”

“Annyeonghaseyo, Beullaegpingkeu-ibnida!” they chorused, bowing 90 degrees. Fans went feral. They began introducing themselves one by one, voices warm, laughing, tossing casual hellos in English and broken French. She stepped forward, grinning.

“So…” Her voice curled around the mic like honey. “I have some very special guests here tonight.” The crowd went into immediate buzz-mode.

Some already knew. They’d spotted the lanky silhouettes in the VIP section, the lightsticks trembling near them. The ones trying to blend in but failing spectacularly.

“Let’s give a huge PARIS welcome to the Formula 1 drivers and the WAGS!”

BOOM SPOTLIGHT.

Right onto Lando, Charles, Pierre, George, Oscar, Carlos, Carmen, Kika, Alexandra, Lily, and Rebecca. The camera feed hit the jumbotron. The audience went nuts. They all looked like they'd just been caught sneaking into a girl’s sleepover.

“Please,” she teased, glancing their way. “Don’t be shy. Say hi!”

Charles gave the world's most awkward wave. George gave a deep, exaggerated bow like a theatre kid. Pierre threw double finger hearts, grinning. Lando? Lando shook his head, hiding his face in his hoodie. Bright red.

“Oh, come on,” Lisa pouted, hands on hips. “Landooo.”

 The girls start a chant, then the crowd joins in and starts chanting his name. “LAN-DO! LAN-DO! LAN-DO!” It built fast. Unstoppable. The entire arena chanting his name.

Defeated, he stood up, raised both hands like he was being arrested, and gave a sheepish wave.

she laughed into her mic. “Don’t let him fool you. He did try to learn the choreo to ‘Pink Venom.’ I have proof.”

“You said you deleted that video!” He yelled, his hands going to cover his face.

Jennie mock-whispered into her mic, “He was actually really good though…”

The other girls giggled behind her. Lando shook his head in embarrassment.

she smiled, stepping back into formation. “And to all the F1 fans in the crowd tonight — thank you for being part of this world with me. And to my amazing, chaotic, wonderful boyfriend…” She sent him another wink.

Then the music cut in—DUN DUN DUN, DUN DUN DUN-DUN—

Her voice echoed, electric:

“Paris, are you ready for tonight? Let me hear you fucking scream!”

The crowd answered with a wall of noise. A roar that hit like a tidal wave. The night had only just begun.

Kika had both arms raised high, lightstick in one hand, belting out every word like she was part of the lineup. Her energy matched the crowd’s fever pitch — sweat, glitter, and absolute chaos.

On stage, the girls lined up like soldiers — eyes locked, chins tilted, legs set — as the arena held its breath. Then the beat dropped.

“Ha, how you like that?”

“You gon' like that, that-that-that, that, that-that-that, that—”

The crowd detonated. The floor of the stadium shook. Thousands jumped as one, lightsticks pulsing like a galaxy, the sound of the crowd almost louder than the music itself. The choreography was nothing short of assault. Explosive stomps, razor-sharp arm swings, lethal hair tosses — every move landing with sniper precision. It wasn’t dancing. It was domination.

She was a force. Every line she hit, she hit like it owed her something — her face fierce, eyes gleaming, completely locked in. Her ponytail cracked through the air like a whip, her crystal-studded harness catching every flash of light. The energy rolling off her could melt concrete. She spun, hair flying, stomping with every ounce of power she had. The second drop hit.

“Now, look at you, now look at me (uh)Look at you, now look at me (uh)Look at you, now look at me, How you like that?!”

BOOM — fire exploded from the stage in towering flames, illuminating the entire arena. The heat was real. The VIP section flinched in unison. Confetti burst into the air like a cannon, showering down like stardust. Fans were shrieking, sobbing, waving signs and lightsticks like they were trying to fly. A girl next to Charles literally fainted into her friend’s arms — completely out cold. Security was radioing medics, and no one even noticed.

Lando’s mouth was open, unmoving. His eyes wide, glitter reflecting off them. He couldn’t process what he was seeing.

On stage, she hit her final move, twisting with a full body spin, hair flying, legs stomping with raw force. The lights flared behind her, then snapped to black. In that moment, just before full darkness fell, she turned her head, smirked, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and strutted off the stage.

A delayed, collective scream from the crowd that shattered the air. The drivers just sat there, stunned into silence. Carlos blinked and turned slowly to Charles, eyes wide, “…I get it now.” The stadium lights cut to black.

Then – the bassline of “Pretty Savage” dropped like a cannon blast, vibrating through the floor, the walls, every chest in the arena. The rumble was so deep it felt like it shook bones loose.

Fans screamed like it was Judgment Day. Pink and white strobes sliced through the darkness, pulsing to the beat like the heartbeat of something dangerous. The giant LED screen lit up, flashing in bold chrome letters:

“You better run, run, run.” 

“Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.” she appeared on the big screen, strutting in slow motion, lips curled into a deadly smirk. “Purrr.” Each syllable hit with surgical confidence, mirrored perfectly by the rest of the girls as they emerged one by one from the shadows, owning it like they had claws out.

"BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA." 

The place exploded. When she stepped forward for her line, the whole crowd leaned in like she’d cast a spell:

“All my diamonds, they yellow or bright white…”

“Got 'em blind, can't find me, bitch I’m outta sight…”

The camera snapped to her face, full zoom on the jumbotron — she smirked, eyes glinting like danger.

“If you mad, stay mad — we not alike.”

That line punched through the air, dripping with venom and power and the crowd loved it. A fresh wave of screams hit like a tsunami. You could hear girls screaming the lyrics and guys yelling like they were in a mosh pit. Someone threw a boa into the air. Security guards were full-on dancing.

The backup dancers peeled away like a tide parting, and the girls strutted forward, claiming the front of the stage like it belonged to them — because it did. She stepped back into the spotlight. She flipped her ponytail like a whip, eyes blazing. The lights hit just right, casting fire across her crystal harness as she dropped into the chorus choreography like she was forged in it. Every move was violent poetry — sharp, surgical, explosive. Even the tiniest motions were precise. The WAGs? Screaming. Dancing. Spilling drinks. Phones out. Fully obsessed. Kika was jumping like she was at a rave. Lily had slight tears in her eyes. Carmen was shouting every word.

When the chorus hit again — harder, louder, a wall of synchronized power — the girls dropped into their final formation, silhouettes outlined by a wall of blazing lights behind them.

Final pose. Lights out. The arena erupted. You’d think someone won a world championship. People were screaming. Crying. Collapsing into their friends. Charles had a hand over his mouth. Lando looked shell-shocked. Pierre just mouthed “holy shit.” Carlos turned, still stunned, to no one in particular. “…They don’t make them like that in Spain.”

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd. A soft pink glow bathed the stadium, delicate as a sunrise. Like the calm before a storm.

“Lovesick girls, lovesick girls…”

Lightsticks lit up like constellations, painting the arena in shimmering pink. Fans screamed every member’s name in a chaotic chorus of devotion. Phones flew into the air to capture the moment.

Their silhouettes appeared.

Like queens descending onto their throne.

As the first beat dropped, smoke curled around their boots, catching the light like magic mist. Spotlights chased their every move — soft and ethereal, like chasing ghosts made of starlight.

Her vocals broke through the air like a velvet ribbon unfurling. Silky. Haunting. Bare.

“yeongwonhan bam changmun eoptneun bange uril gadun love (love)” Endless night, love trapped us in a windowless room (love)

“What can we say? maebeon apado oechineun love (love)” What can we say? Long for love even though it hurts every time (love)

She stood alone at the edge of the stage, framed in silver light, the smoke swirling around her like a secret. Her voice echoed — not just through the arena, but into people. You could feel it.

From the VIP section, Lando leaned toward George, his eyes wide.  “Her voice is unreal.” George just nodded, too stunned to respond.

The chorus kicked in, and the stadium shook with unity. Everyone was singing along:

“We are the lovesick girls…”

It wasn’t just singing — it was a tidal wave of voices, thousands of people screaming the lyrics like a prayer. Like a wound.

She reached the edge of the catwalk, twirled with practiced grace, and joined Jennie and Jisoo center stage for the pre-chorus.

“But we were born to be alone, yeah we were born to be alone…”

The beat dropped again — and suddenly it was all movement. Flashing lights, glitter cannons exploding, arms slicing the air. The five of them danced with the precision of soldiers, the softness of ballerinas, the power of a revolution.

“But why are we still looking for love?”

By the final chorus, the lights softened like a sunset. The crowd was swaying now, arms in the air, tears in their eyes. The girls slowed, movements fluid, voices layered in perfect harmony, floating over the crowd like a hymn. She stepped forward for her final line. The others faded behind her. The spotlight narrowed.

“But we’re still looking for love…”

She said it like it hurt but she smiled — a tired, soft, knowing smile because there was something beautiful about that kind of pain. 

Silence. One beat. Screams. Applause. Sobbing. Chants. One guy in the pit just screamed into the sky.

She gave a tiny bow, cheeks flushed pink under the lights. She found Lando in the crowd, hands above his head, clapping with everything he had. His eyes were locked on her like nothing else existed, not the music, not the noise, just her.

In the VIP box — Lily, Carmen, Kika, and the rest of the WAGs were frozen. Slack-jawed. Shimmer-eyed. Their boyfriends? Stunned. Like they’d just seen the northern lights for the first time.

George broke it with a yell:  “RUN IT BACK!”

Then came that trumpet.

DUN—DUN DUN DUN DUN.

The lights pulsed crimson. The screams were instant. Deafening.

Lando sat forward in his seat as fire cannons exploded in time with the beat. Pierre’s jaw dropped. Kika clutched his arm, eyes wide with shock and delight. Lily was already on her feet, screaming along to the instrumental intro. From the VIP row, even Charles looked stunned.

From the center of the stage, five shadows emerged through a thick wall of smoke, stomping in perfect sync. Black boots. All leather. Heavy belts. Fingerless gloves. High ponytails and sharp eyeliner. Each one looked like a cinematic villainess who could kill you and look flawless doing it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA”

Jennie exploded into the spotlight first, fierce and flawless, her presence larger than life as she delivered the iconic opening line. Her voice sliced through the air, chin high, eyes untamed and wild.

“Cheonsa gateun ‘hi’ kkeuten akma gateun ‘bye’...”

Lily’s voice cracked in disbelief. “She’s not real. She’s not even human.”

Lisa stormed forward next, flowing through the verse like water over a blade. The Korean-English rap twisted through the arena, every line delivered with laser precision.

“Here I come kick in the door!” 

She strutted to the edge of the stage, one hand on her hip, the other tossing a middle finger to gravity. The crowd went feral. 

Jisoo stepped into the light. Elegant. Deadly. Her vocals were rich and emotional, haunting in contrast to the savage beat. She sang like a goddess of revenge, arm raised toward the sky as if she could rewrite fate itself.

Rosé was next. Her voice soft but dangerous, golden and aching as the chorus approached. She tossed her blonde hair, let it fall like silk down her back, and gave a single, knowing smirk to the crowd before launching into the line that detonated the arena:

“LET’S KILL THIS LOVE!”

The drop hit like a meteor.

“YEAH-YEAH-YEAH-YEAH-YEAH”

The beat exploded like an earthquake, and the five of them stomped forward, falling into the explosive choreography — each hit choreographed to perfection. Loud. Fierce. Like a war anthem.

RUM PUM PUM PUM PUM PUM

The choreography was thunderous — they stomped in unison, every beat of the bass a war cry. Lights strobed. Pyro flared. The crowd screamed the lyrics back with unholy energy. She [==[stepped into the center. The shift was instant, like gravity bent around her. She moved like a queen who owned the world — the glint of her black-and-gold outfit catching every flash of light as she turned her gaze to the sea of fans.

“Feelin’ like a sinner, it’s so fire with him, I go boo hoo,” she rapped, locking into step beside Lisa.

“He said, ‘You look crazy,’ thank you, baby. I owe it all to you.” Lisa rapped

Her body was a weapon — slick with sweat, her neck gleaming as she tossed her hair back, spun, and delivered her next line with a hit to the chest:

“Got me all messed up, his love is my favorite...” She sang with a strong passion. 

“But you plus me sadly can be dangerous.” Lisa finished

The final chorus slammed in, and they moved like an army of five. Choreography razor-clean. Faces fierce. The final formation hit like thunder.

“LET’S KILL THIS LOVE!”

The beat dropped one last time, and the stage exploded with flames behind them — five silhouettes framed in fire, standing wide-legged, defiant, unstoppable. The stadium lost its mind. Kika and Lily screamed louder than the girls in the front row. Pierre leaned toward Lando, breathless. “You’re not coming back from that.” Lando didn’t take his eyes off the stage, jaw slack, chest heaving. “I don’t want to.” But he didn’t know what was coming next.

The lights dipped again. Smoke rolled back over the stage like a tide. A hush swept through the crowd — anticipation so thick it felt like thunder waiting to crack. Then came that slow, hypnotic whistle. A crimson spotlight swept across the stage like a hunter’s eye. BLACKPINK re-emerged like phantoms in the dark.

Lisa strutted out first — hips rolling, eyes sharp. Jennie followed, her walk slower, more deliberate, like she was stalking prey. Jisoo’s smirk was laced with poison, and Rosé’s blonde hair flicked like a whip. She stepped out last, wrapped in black lace and crimson mesh. Her thigh-high boots glinted under the strobes, her hair braided back tight with silver chains running through. She didn’t walk — she prowled. Then came the line.

“I’ve been known to kiss and tell…” Her voice was molten. Deadly. “Send girls to wishing wells. If you’re my man, I want you to myself.” She didn’t just sing it — she owned it. Her eyes scanned the crowd like she was choosing a target. “I know I’ll have enemies, as long as you’re into me. But I don’t care—’cause I got what I need.”

Jisoo and Rosé took the pre-chorus, their voices featherlight but dangerous, the calm before a storm. She moved to center as the beat climbed.

“I went crazy over you~~ (ah ah) over you, only you (ah ah)!”

The choreography locked into place — hips snapping, arms slicing, bodies moving with devastating precision. Lightsticks rippled like a sea of neon. 

Lisa’s solo verse. The scream from the crowd nearly shattered the sound barrier. She rapped with sensual venom: “Feels wrong, but it’s right, right / Blacked out, no night light…” She stalked the edge of the stage, hair flying, her body a sinuous line of motion. At one point she grabbed her waist and tugged her top slightly down, just enough to make the entire stadium gasp. Jennie’s verse came next — sultry, sharp as glass.

“Boy, by the time I’m done / I won’t be the only one…” She leaned into the camera and grinned like a devil in lipstick. The entire screen behind her turned red.

Rosé’s voice soared over the final chorus. Lisa threw her head back mid-verse. Jisoo winked with lethal charm. She blew a kiss. Right at the VIP box. Straight at Lando.

It was surgical. She twirled, dropped low, and came back up into perfect formation as the final chorus hit like a heartbeat.

The screen behind them shimmered with glitching red florals and black static as they moved into the final dance break — a flurry of hips, precision steps, flowing arms, and rolling shoulders, a seduction in every breath.

Charles leaned forward. “Did she just—?”

“She winked at you last song too,” George added. Lando didn’t blink.

“I know.” 

The final beat struck. The lights went out. Lando was still staring at the stage. Grinning, breathless, proud, stunned, and utterly hers.

The lights dimmed again, plunging the stadium into a sea of flickering crimson. A hush swept over the crowd like a tide pulling back, anticipation thrumming through every chest like the moment before a storm breaks. A single piano note echoed then another, flames erupted along the edges of the stage, curling upward like the breath of a dragon. The intro to “Playing With Fire” slithered through the speakers — slow, sultry, dangerous. 

Jennie stepped forward, emerging from the shadows like a queen drenched in war paint. Her red leather corset gleamed under the spotlight, high ponytail swinging with calculated precision. She didn’t just sing — she declared.

"Uri eomman mael naege malhaesseo." Her voice sliced through the air like a blade. Controlled. Untouchable. Her hair pulled back into a high pony, red leather corset gleaming under the spotlight. Her voice sliced through the air like a warning.

Then Jisoo moved in beside her — fluid, graceful, her deep voice the kind that haunted and lingered. “Eomma mari kkok majeuljjido molla.” Her every step was poetry with an edge, her eyes locked on the camera like she was telling a secret.

Rosé followed, her blonde hair catching every flicker of the flames. Her voice — all silk and smoke — curled around the next line like it hurt to sing it. “Meomchul su eomneun i tteollimeun, on and on and on.”

Then the beat shifted. Lisa strutted into frame, swagger oozing from every move. She rapped her verse like she owned the planet “Look at me, look at me now, ireoke neon nalaetaeugo.” like the floor belonged to her alone. She pointed into the crowd, smirked, and half the stadium swore she picked them.

“Uri sarangeun buljangnan (oh, oh, oh) my love is on fire (ooh)”

Her voice cut like a blade and soothed like honey, a raw blend of rasp and control that made the air feel heavier. She spun with Lisa, their backs touching as they circled the center of the stage like lions — every move precise, magnetic. In the VIP box, chaos was in full bloom.

George looked like he’d just seen God. “Lando. Is that normal? Like... does she always move like that?”

Pierre didn’t even blink. “I think I stopped breathing.” Kika screamed into her hands. Lily just stood there whispering, “She’s not real,” over and over like a mantra. But Lando? He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t.

He was frozen — elbows on his knees, jaw slack, chest rising fast. Eyes locked on her. It wasn’t just an attraction. It was awe. A punch to the gut and a pull to the chest all at once. Every sway of her hips, every hair toss, every time her hand carved the air like she was painting fire — it all struck him somewhere deep. Somewhere dangerous. That body roll. She smirked straight at him, lips curled, eyes dark with mischief. She hit the move like she’d been waiting for him to look, and he was definitely looking. Lando exhaled like he’d been sucker punched.

The girls dropped into formation. Five silhouettes cloaked in smoke and fire.

"My love is on fire..."

The beat dropped, and they hit the floor hard — one leg bent and the other extended, hair whipping forward like whips. Heels slammed the stage. The impact of their synchronized pose rippled through the entire stadium.

Kika screamed, “OH MY GOD!”

Lando didn’t blink. Couldn’t. His pulse was in his throat. His hands were gripping the edge of his seat. His mouth was open slightly, breath caught mid-air. She was absolutely in her element. Firelight flickered across her skin as she leaned into the final chorus, eyes wild, dancing like she was made of flame herself. She caught his eye again. Just for a second, and winked. He swore the entire world tilted.

The final chorus roared through the stadium. She sang with her whole chest, dancing like it was the last stage she'd ever see. Flames licked at her heels. Sweat shimmered on her skin. Every line she delivered struck Lando in the ribs. 

The girls snapped into their ending pose. She stood front and center, arm outstretched like she’d just dropped a match on gasoline. Her expression was unreadable — somewhere between fierce and feral. Her lips parted like she was still catching her breath.

The lights cut.

The crowd screamed. In the darkness, all you could hear were breaths, cheers, and the rapid beating of thousands of hearts, including Lando’s. He leaned back slowly, trying to exhale but failing.

“Mate…” George whispered, half-laughing, half-terrified. “You’re in so much trouble.”

But Lando just grinned, wide and dazed, eyes still on the darkened stage.

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I really fucking know.”

And the stage began to light again — this time with a single spotlight. The solos were starting.

But Lando? He was still sitting there like he'd been struck by lightning. He was already waiting for her to come back.

“Flower”

The stadium lights softened to a pale violet glow, washing over the crowd like moonlight over still water. A gentle breeze, almost imagined, seemed to drift through the air as delicate cherry blossom petals floated across the LED screens — swirling, slow, dreamlike.

Soft, weightless — they drifted across the massive LED screens and fell from above, holographic projections that shimmered like falling stars. The silence was reverent. Sacred. Jisoo emerged alone from the side of the stage.

Her outfit was a breathtaking fusion — a modern reinterpretation of a Hanbok, lilac and silver silk catching the light with every slow, intentional step. Silver hairpins glinted in her dark, flowing hair, which spilled down her back in effortless waves. A sheer train followed behind her, delicate as morning mist.

The first haunting notes of “Flower” played — the unmistakable, delicate “eh-eh, eh, eh” The crowd fell silent. Not out of boredom, but reverence. Kika gasped and gripped Alex’s arm, whispering like she didn’t want to break the spell, “She looks like a literal princess.”

Jisoo began to move — slow, controlled, almost fragile — her hands tracing invisible lines through the air as if scattering petals with every motion. Each flick of her wrist was purposeful. Every step a story. She twirled. The lights flared softly around her like a blooming flower. The crowd, thousands of voices strong, sang along gently — almost respectfully — not daring to overpower her voice but needing to be part of the moment.

From the VIP box, Charles leaned forward, eyes narrowed in focus. “Is this the one with the flower move?” he murmured, a touch of awe in his tone. Then it came — the iconic point dance.

Jisoo raised her hands in that now-famous flourish, wrists twirling delicately in front of her face, her expression caught somewhere between heartache and poise. Graceful. Hypnotic. Her body swayed like a stem in the wind. Each move was intentional, soft but weighted. A woman letting go without ever fully breaking. Pierre, who hadn't looked away once, muttered under his breath, “No wonder TikTok lost its mind.”

As the final chorus rang out, Jisoo knelt in the center of the stage, fingers gently pinching the air like she was holding the last petal of a wilted rose. She let it fall. The lights faded to dusk. The crowd, again, screamed but it was a different kind of scream it was softer, emotional, like they’d all just been let in on something private. Charles, who rarely said much during performances, simply nodded. “She made heartbreak look like art.” 

“On The Ground” / “Gone”

The stage dipped into moody twilight, hues of midnight blue and soft gray bleeding into the crowd. A single spotlight glowed like a distant moon, focused on a raised circular platform center-stage. There sat Rosé. Alone, cross-legged, a white electric guitar resting in her lap like an old friend. Dressed in a sleek black and white two-piece — tailored and minimal, but gleaming with subtle rhinestones — she looked like the personification of heartbreak itself. Glittering trails were painted beneath her eyes like tears caught in the spotlight.

The first lonely chords of “Gone” echoed through the arena, and her voice followed — fragile, aching, painfully raw. Like an open letter no one was supposed to read aloud.

Every word felt like a confession.

In the VIP box, Carlos blinked slowly, visibly hit. “Okay… this one’s hitting my soul.”

Rosé closed her eyes as she sang the chorus, her head tilted slightly back. Her voice cracked — not out of weakness, but because it was real. Like she'd lived every word.

Lando turned to Lily, who stood frozen with both hands clasped to her chest, already mouthing every lyric. “She’s your favorite?” he asked gently.

Lily nodded without looking away. “She always will be.”

The song faded into silence, like a sigh. The platform began to lower slowly, fog spilling around its base. The stage pulsed with a heartbeat-like thrum. The crowd stirred.

Rosé reappeared downstage, the guitar now slung across her back. The lights behind her flared white-hot and golden, like spotlights on a runway. She walked forward with slow, deliberate confidence — like someone who had broken, and then learned how to carry every shard.

“Everything I need is on the ground…”

Fans raised their phones, thousands of lights blinking in sync. Rosé’s voice soared, full of longing and clarity, as she poured herself into the bridge. George was swaying with his phone flashlight on, looking completely unironically emotional. 

As the final chorus swelled, Rosé made her way to the edge of the stage, kneeling down with one hand outstretched. Fans in the front row reached for her like she was something divine, something rare — and she smiled through her tears, fingers brushing theirs gently. Even Charles, previously the most neutral observer, just shook his head and said, “I get it now. I get the hype.” Lando glanced at Lily again, who had wiped a tear without shame.

“Wasn’t expecting to cry tonight,” he muttered. She smiled through watery eyes. “That’s Rosé for you.” The final note rang out — soft, lingering, bittersweet.

Rosé stood in the haze, bowed once with both hands over her heart, then walked offstage slowly, guitar still strapped to her back.

The lights dimmed. The crowd roared. And somewhere in the noise, everyone realized: they’d just witnessed a masterclass in quiet devastation.

“Money” / “Lalisa”

The stadium blacked out. Not a single light, not a single sound. Just pure silence. A bass drop like a thunderclap. Red strobe lights exploded across the stage like a warning alarm. The iconic beat of “Money” shook the floor, rattling through every ribcage in the building. 

Lisa strutted onto the stage like a storm made flesh. Black leather crop top, matching shorts with chrome chains swinging at her hips, knee-high boots that clicked with every step. Sunglasses on. Braids slicked and sharp. She wasn’t just performing — she was declaring war.

“It’s the end of the month and the weekend…”

The crowd detonated and so did the VIP box. Pierre literally stood up like he’d just seen God. “SHE’S INSANE.” Kika, dancing full-body in her chair, screamed, “GO OFF, LISA!!”

Lisa moved like the laws of physics didn’t apply to her — every step precise, every hair flip calculated, every smirk weaponized. She snapped her hips to the beat, crowd wrapped around her finger. Then came the sunglasses moment — ripped off and tossed into the pit as she slid into a perfect split. George clutched his chest. She rose from the floor like a phoenix, hair flying, eyes gleaming, and just as the beat seemed to slow—

“LALISA” dropped. Seamless transition. No mercy.

The visuals on the screen turned gold, flames licked the edges of the stage, and Lisa grinned — a real grin — the kind that meant trouble.

“Lalisa, love me, Lalisa, love me.” She switched to Thai mid-verse and the crowd went ballistic. Flags waved. Fandoms collided. Lisa tore through the choreo like she was born to set fires.

Carlos turned to Charles, voice barely audible over the noise. “I’m scared and obsessed.”

Lisa didn’t miss a single beat. From body rolls to hair whips, from center stage to the edge, she owned it. Total domination. By the time the bridge hit, she’d pulled off a mic drop moment without even touching the mic. One last spin. A wink. A kiss blown to the rafters. She twirled offstage with a strut that could’ve shut down traffic. Her smirk should’ve been classified as a weapon. The crowd lost its mind.

In the VIP box, Lando was blinking like he’d just come out of a trance. He leaned toward Oscar, completely dazed. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar just snorted and shook his head. “And you think I’m intense?”

Kika leaned across George, grinning. “Lisa does not come to play.”

Backstage, you could already hear the faint thrum of the final solo building… and the screams weren’t stopping anytime soon.

"You & Me” (Coachella Version)

The lights melted into a soft, smoky hazy blue as fog curled low over the stage floor like a rising tide. A crescent moon appeared, suspended above, glowing silver against the midnight sky backdrop. The arena held its breath.

Jennie.

Dressed in a glittering, crystal-studded mini dress that shimmered like moonlight on water, her hair slicked back in perfect waves, her heels silent as she stepped forward — like she was floating. A dream in motion. A fevered vision no one could look away from.

“I love you and me, dancing in the moonlight…” Her voice was soft, seductive, delicate but deadly — like lace draped over a dagger. Jennie moved like water — smooth, fluid, yet sharp when she wanted to be. Every movement intentional. Every flick of her wrist, every slow roll of her hips, was magnetic. She didn’t need to try.

The crowd began chanting her name between verses like a spell.

“JENNIE! JENNIE! JENNIE!”

She tossed her hair, smirked into the camera, and sang the next line like she was letting someone in on a secret.

The beat dropped and Jennie snapped into full power. Lights pulsed to the rhythm. Backup dancers emerged like shadows circling her, but no one could touch her spotlight. She was pure command — hitting every step, every glide, every shoulder roll with the poise of someone who knew the world watched… and liked it that way.

Lily gasped “This is—this is ART.”

Jennie did a slow spin, dropped into a low dip, and when she rose — lips parted, eyes lidded, breathing heavy — the crowd screamed like it was the end of the world.

Kika, unable to look away, eyes wide with a grin. “Everyone wants to be her. Period.” She had an effect — a silent, slow burn that kept getting hotter the longer you watched.

As the last chorus melted into the bridge, Jennie walked forward — alone again — under the moonlight. The audience swayed with her.  She ended with a slow, teasing bow, one hand to her chest, the other extended like she was offering her heart — or maybe daring someone to take it. The lights dimmed. The screams erupted.

Pierre, stunned, barely able to find words, just said, “She scares me. In the best way.”

Carlos nodded. “Yeah. That wasn’t a performance. That was possession.”

The stage reset began. Everyone knew who was coming next.

“Thunder” / “Seoul City”

The stadium lights shattered into flickering diamonds — strobes pulsing like a heartbeat. Then the spotlight hit.

She stepped out wearing a rhinestone-studded mini dress that caught every glint of light, silver platform boots that stomped like authority, and glittering braids piled high, she looked like a Y2K pop goddess summoned from a fever dream. Her mic shimmered under the spotlights — so did she. A row of dancers flanked her like a glam squad of It-girls, and the first beat dropped.

“Got that uh-huh, that uh-huh, Big big uh-huh” 

The crowd exploded. Banners waved. Fans shrieked. She didn’t just command attention — she demanded it. She strutted down the catwalk with a smirk that could end wars, flipping her hair, winking straight into the steadicam like the stage was hers — because it was. Her choreography was pure fire: sharp, sexy, playful — the kind of movement that screamed effortlessness while still being precision-cut. She didn’t just move with the music; she was the music.

“Somethin’ a little like thunder, got that make you wonder…”

Every sway of her hips, every body roll, every sly smile left the crowd breathless. She sang live — her voice powerful and sultry, flipping from airy high notes to confident rap bars without breaking a sweat.

“No, you said I’ll never get by. Now look at me I’m so high." Lando jolted in his seat like he’d been struck. Face flushed, lips parted, eyes wide. Pierre elbowed him but got no reaction.

“You wanna know what it feel’s like…”

“It’s like, Got the uh-huh, that uh-huh” The beat morphed, pulsing smoother, darker — and the crowd collectively screamed as "Seoul City" began.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh…”

Lights went soft, pink and violet. Her silhouette curved as she leaned into her mic, slow and seductive. She walked with lazy grace, like a panther. Her voice melted over the beat. 

“Give me hug, need your love, touch my thigh, tell me what puts you in that mind” Lando sat frozen, jaw clenched, chest visibly rising and falling.

“I could be, be your prize, pick me up. Flying high, paradise… in Seoul City.” The dancers fell away. The lights tightened.

She was alone again. A single spotlight. And she knelt — on her knees at the very end of the stage. Looking directly at him.

“Would you make me your boss, pretty please? Pretty please, let me ease your mind…” Lando’s hand curled tightly around his thigh. 

She sang only to him: “Look at me, can you breathe?” “Ah…” (inhale)

And she leaned her head back, her neck glistening with sweat, the rhinestones of her dress catching like stars. The crowd screamed so loud it rattled the floor. She stayed there — a beat of silence, eyes closed. Lando’s lips parted like he’d forgotten he had them.

“Ah…” (exhale)

She smirked at the crowd. At him. “I could give you life.”

She rose like a queen ascending.

Dance break. Spins. Hair flips. Body rolls sharp enough to kill. Smoke jets burst. Strobe lights went wild. She ended center stage, arms out, head tilted. The screen behind her pulsed once more — then blackout, the entire stadium ROARED. Kika screamed into Pierre’s jacket. Charles and Alex looked shell-shocked. Even stoic Oscar had to sit down. Carmen and Lily shaking their hammerbongs like crazy. And Lando? Lando was gone. Mouth open, heart pounding. Wrecked.

George leaned in, eyes wide. “Mate… you need air?”

Lando blinked once and covered his face. “I need a priest.”

Vivaldi’s “La Campanella” rang through the stadium, its sharp strings plucking ominously, slow and deliberate—like a warning. The crowd roared in recognition, screams piercing through the hush that followed. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the bass dropped.

The stage exploded in pulsing white strobes and swirling smoke. Trap beats thundered through the arena, shaking the floor. The screen came to life with glitching chrome graphics, and through the haze, five silhouettes emerged.

“Keombaegi anya tteonan joek eopseunikka—” Jennie’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

The five of them stalked forward in a clean, synchronized line, their steps heavy and deliberate. Final boss energy. The crowd lost it — banners shaking, fans crying, phones in the air.

Lando was frozen. His jaw clenched, eyes tracking only one person on that stage.. She didn’t even look at him, not yet but she knew he was watching.

“Stay in your own lane cause im bout to swerve. Catch me when you hear my McLaren go vroom, vroom, vroom” She changed the lyric and the staduim heard it. Lando’s jaw actually dropped. A full beat of silence before he caught himself and tried to play it off, swallowing a grin. Carlos slapped his chest.

She smirked into the camera, sweat glistening on her temple, eyes locked in, spinning into another sharp move like she hadn’t just turned a stadium into rubble. Fans screamed. Carlos slapped Lando's arm as Lando tried to play it cool. “She just said McLaren, Mate.”

“She’s ridiculous,” he whispered. Lando was already leaning forward. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, eyes fixed on her like he’d been hit by a damn spell. She was locked in — sweat glistening at her hairline, muscles flexing as she spun, popped, dropped. A goddess with a vengeance.

“When we pull up you know it’s a shutdown…” Lisa exploded into her verse, her ponytail snapping like a whip. Jennie strutted to the side, gun-loaded in leather and rhinestones. Jisoo followed, eyes cool, moving with icy precision. Rosé twirled into a glow, her voice soaring.

“Whip it, whip it, whip it, whip it…”

Jisoo came in next, her vocals ethereal but cool as ice. She twirled and landed into formation like it was effortless. Her eyes flicked over the crowd as if to say, Bow down.

Rosé’s voice rang out crystal-clear, fingers gliding through her wavy hair as she hit a spin and sent the mic up to the sky. Then all five of them lined up.The chorus dropped.

“Shut it down, BLACKPINK in your area…shut it down BLACKPINK in your area”

The chorus slammed in like a hammer. Hips snapped, arms sliced, boots thundered across the stage. They were choreo monsters — no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just raw, weaponized artistry.

“Keep talkin’, we shut you down.”

The lights cut. A flicker of flame — dollar signs scrolling across the screen, slow pink fire curling from the corners. The bassline growled like a beast waking up. 

A spotlight cracked open. “Typa Girl.”

Rosé emerged first, her chrome corset throwing reflections across the crowd like shattered glass. She prowled forward, her gaze slicing through the fans. Every syllable had bite.

“Typa girl that’s gonna make you wanna dream…”

Lisa took over next, hair sleek and straight, dressed in an elegant deconstructed blazer with diamond-cut slits at the waist and boots that clicked with power. Her delivery was chill and sly, a smirk curving her lips as she sang,

“Typa girl that come straight up off the screen…”

The dancers moved around them in clean, sharp patterns, letting each girl have their moment while matching their tempo. Lights flashed red and gold in rhythm with the beat.

Jennie stepped into the spotlight next, loose waves flowing, a glittering fringe top catching every bit of light. Her voice rang out clear and strong.

“Typa girl you wanna ice up, make me freeze…”

Jisoo took her verse next, dressed in black leather and rhinestones, moving like she owned the entire universe. Her delivery was fierce, unapologetic, her voice snapping over the beat.

“You the typa girl you wanna wife up, sign the pre…”

She stepped forward.

Hair up in a high, sleek braided ponytail. Wearing a custom hot pink crop jacket over a bustier, chains dripping from her belt, and heeled boots laced with silver. She smirked before her mic even touched her lips — she knew what she was about to do.

“I bring money to the table, not your dinner. Both my body and my bank account, good figure…” She popped a hip, flicked her braid, The crowd lost it. And so did lando 

She rapped and sang effortlessly, snapping her fingers with the beat, hips rolling, eyes flicking toward the VIP section with a wink. Lando didn’t even try to play it cool — he was already clapping above his head, yelling something completely inaudible.

“I’m the typa girl that make you forget that you got a type— Typa make you love me when the only thing you’ve done is like…”

Fireworks exploded from the stage. A wall of smoke and pink lights flashed behind them. Fans were screaming, singing along, sobbing — all at once.

Carmen was yelling in pure joy, arm around Lily, both of them mimicking the choreo with near-perfect accuracy. Kika was recording on her phone with her other hand, spinning in a circle and shrieking. “THIS IS A WORKOUT,” Carmen yelled.

Lando had a big, goofy, lovesick smile smeared across his face like he’d just seen the divine.

As the song came to its end, each girl hit their final pose — She at the front, winking over her shoulder, her breath heavy but her grin wide. The crowd erupted. She flipped a lock of hair out of her face, panting slightly, and looked directly at the VIP row. Lando, still clapping like an idiot, smiled at her like she’d just invented the sun.

The stage turned dark.

Then—

A sharp flicker of neon pink and deep crimson, followed by a BOOM that echoed through the stadium like a detonation. The LED screens blazed alive—swirling diamonds, liquid fire, and smoke curling with menace. The bass dropped like a threat.

“BLACKPINK!”

The girls appeared like a storm.

Lisa emerged first, stalking across the stage in glittering chrome and black buckled boots. Her high ponytail whipped behind her like a weapon. She pointed at the crowd with a smirk, turned, and strutted—power incarnate.

Jennie followed, swathed in a sharp corset two-piece with long gloves and a mini-cape slicing the air behind her. Her eyes were locked forward, cold, confident, carved from pure fire.

Jisoo shimmered next, draped in deep blood-red, her slit dress revealing just enough to tease, chains dancing at her hip with each movement. She was elegance dipped in danger.

Rosé flowed in like a melody—her glittery mesh set catching the lights like stardust, blonde waves bouncing, gaze playful. She winked at the crowd, a gentle promise of incoming chaos.

And finally, she emerged in a custom jet-black bodysuit with hot pink embroidery cutting down her sides, sharp cutouts at the waist, and thigh-high boots that owned the floor. Her long hair was down, slick and wild, and her eyes—those eyes—scanned the arena like she was hunting.

The crowd screamed so loud it shook the stadium.

“Hit you with that ddu-du ddu-du du,”

All five snapped into formation. The choreo was deadly — sharp angles, full control, like a weapon honed for war. Up in the VIP section, Lando’s jaw actually dropped. Carlos leaned over. “You okay?” Lando didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the stage, and more specifically. She moved like thunder and silk. The way her hips hit each beat, the whip of her hair, the sheer command—he wasn’t watching his girlfriend perform. He was watching a goddamn phenomenon. Then the second verse hit. Lights shifted. The bass curled low and heavy, seductive.

Lily leaned toward Lando, yelling over the music, “YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS ABOUT TO GO OFF!”

Lando turned, confused—until she stepped forward.

“I’m getting money by the hundreds. All my GQ’s spread like hummus. Bullshit for the birds that are coming. I’ma say that shit again — I’m the mail, I run it. Drop that like you got a hot track, so you wanna knock that, got another banger. Real talk, I’ma let the Os talk. You can see the billions, better call a banker.”

The way she hit her lines faster than the backtrack — every word dripping with venom and velvet — had even the security guards vibing. She shot a quick smirk to the VIP section mid-verse, eyes finding Lando.

Lando forgot how to breathe. Carlos swore under his breath. “Mate,” Carlos muttered, “I think you just blacked out.”

When the song ended, they struck their final pose — five icons, backlit in flame and glitter, breathless and proud.

People screaming, phones up, WAGs dancing like backup dancers, Carmen and Lily losing their minds, Kika shouting along like she was on stage herself. Fans sobbed, jumped, chanted. The floor shook.

He was still staring at her. his hands mid-clap, lips parted in awe. A man was completely ruined in real-time.

She flipped a lock of hair out of her face, chest heaving slightly as she turned her head toward him again. She knew. 

In that moment, there was no denying it: BLACKPINK had just obliterated the stage.

Then came the opening chords of “Tally.” The crowd roared in recognition — slower, sultrier, unapologetically defiant. Smoke curled across the stage floor. The lights dimmed into a moody violet haze, shifting to deep pinks and blues. The girls moved in closer, their silhouettes bold and sharp.

She stepped forward. Eyes locked on Lando. Her voice dropped smooth, velvet, and venom:

“I say F it when I feel it, ‘Cause no one’s keeping tally. I do what I want with who I like—”

She dragged her gaze across the crowd, then right back to Lando — holding it this time, firm and unblinking.

“I ain't gon' conceal it. While you talking all that shit, I’ll be gettin’ mine, gettin’ mine.”

She didn’t just sing the line. She delivered it like a dagger wrapped in silk, her mouth curling into a smirk, that wicked glint in her eye daring him to flinch. Lando’s breath hitched. For a moment, he forgot there were 50,000 people between them. It felt like she was singing to no one else.

Next to him, Carlos snorted. “She’s really letting you have it, bro.”

Lily was already filming him. “I need your reaction for the group chat,” she whispered, gleeful. She pivoted out of frame as Lisa slid forward, eyes cool, smile sharp.

“Don’t apologize for my behavior— If you’re offended, I don’t care.”

The crowd screamed the next line before she even hit it, thousands of voices yelling in sync, vibrating through the air like gospel. The girls weren’t just performing — they were testifying. As the track faded into its final echo, the beat of “Boombayah” dropped like a lightning bolt and chaos reigned. Lights strobed gold and fuchsia. Pyro exploded at the sides of the stage. A wild party anthem reborn — the ultimate encore.

BLACKPINK went off.

They danced with pure, uninhibited joy, hair whipping, outfits shimmering, owning the stage like queens at the end of a world tour. Backup dancers flooded in. Confetti blasted into the air. The jumbotron spun wild shots of the crowd losing their absolute minds.

She grabbed Jennie’s hand and twirled her with a laugh, then bumped hips with Rosé. Jisoo grinned as she leaned into Lisa, who hit a final freestyle pop move that made the dancers lose it. The energy was electric — all five of them glowing like they’d just stolen the sun.

Lando was grinning without realizing it, eyes glued to She the whole time. She was laughing, sweat shining on her brow, eyes alive. She looked… free.

Not the composed, mysterious icon the press usually showed — but a girl on fire, dancing with her sisters, with no care in the world except the moment she was in.

As the final chorus roared out —

“LET���S GO, LET’S GO” they struck their last pose. Fireworks detonated behind them in a rainbow of sparks. The crowd went feral. She bowed low, one arm sweeping with flair, then popped up with a wink to the crowd — and one last glance toward Lando. He clapped slowly, arms crossed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“She told you,” Carlos said, nudging him.

“She performed it at me,” Lando muttered, lips twitching. 

Lily was still filming. “How do you feel about being the muse for BLACKPINK’s soft diss track era?”

Lando said, grinning now. “Turned on and in shock.”

“You looked like you were about to propose mid-verse,” Carlos teased. Lando rubbed a hand over his face, watching her on the jumbotron as she waved to fans and blew kisses. His chest felt tight with something he couldn’t explain — pride, awe, a little bit of fear. That woman on stage? She was a force of nature. And she was his.

As BLACKPINK made their final waves and bowed one last time, the lights dimmed, the confetti still raining, and the crowd chanted their names like a prayer. Lando didn’t move until they were fully off stage and even then, he was still staring, heart hammering.

BACKSTAGE – MOMENTS AFTER THE SHOW

The moment BLACKPINK disappeared behind the curtain, the chaos flipped — stage thunder swapped for backstage electricity.

Hair stylists ran forward with towels and water bottles, managers called out instructions, and camera crews scrambled to capture the afterglow. But the girls? They were buzzing. Sweaty, glowing, laughing — still riding the high.

She tore off her mic pack, tossing her hair back as Lisa grabbed her by the waist and spun her in a half-circle.

“We ATE,” Lisa shrieked and jumped up and down.

“Obliterated.” Rosé was breathless, hugging Jisoo as they both burst into giggles.

The dressing room doors flew open.

“THAT WAS INSANE,” Kika yelled first, practically charging in with Lily right behind him.

Rosé was mid-sip of coconut water when she froze, eyes lighting up. “Wait— are those the drivers?!” Jennie turned first, arms up like a champ. “Where’s my trophy?!?”

“Yo!” Lisa spun around in her chair, glowing with post-show adrenaline, and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Charles. “You’re the Ferrari guy. I watched Drive to Survive.” Alex laughed. 

Charles did a dramatic little bow. “And you’re Lisa. I watched you end lives on stage just now.”

It was a collision of worlds, and it was glorious.

Jennie, regal even with a towel over her shoulders, raised an eyebrow and looked up at George. “Which team are you?”

“Mercedes,” he said smoothly, offering a hand. “Big fan. Huge.”

Jisoo giggled, “You guys all look like you came from a Bond movie.”

“Right back at you,” Pierre murmured, half in awe, half definitely already crushing.

Lisa, eyeing Carlos, tilted her head. “And you’re the funny one.”

“I knew she’d like me,” Carlos whispered behind his hand to Lando.

Meanwhile, she was slipping out from a side corridor, fresh from a quick change into loose black sweatpants, a cropped tee, and her hair still damp at the ends. She hadn’t even seen Lando yet—until she turned the corner and froze. He was already watching her. She looked tired but alive, radiant in that post-performance glow. Their eyes locked. 

For a moment, everything else blurred. Shewalked up, quiet, smiling. Lando didn’t say anything. He just opened his arms and she walked right in. 

No words needed — he wrapped his arms around her, tucked his face into her neck, and breathed. She smelled like vanilla, sweat, and stage fog. She was laughing softly against his collar. “I destroyed you a little bit out there,” she murmured.

He pulled back just enough to grin at her. “Yeah. But like, in a hot way.”

She rolled her eyes, kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“You’re my favorite member.”

“You’re just saying that because I looked straight at you during Tally.”

“You gutted me during Tally.”

They laughed, and just like that, the storm of cameras and cheers and chaos faded around them.

LATER – POST-CONCERT DINNER

A private restaurant in downtown Paris.

The kind of place tucked between cobblestone alleys and centuries-old shutters — where the windows glowed gold, the wine list had no prices, and the laughter could be heard from the street.

They’d taken over the back room, of course — one long wooden table under warm hanging lights, plates of charred bread and creamy burrata, glasses filled with deep red wine and sparkling water. The afterglow of the concert still hung in the air like perfume. Makeup a little smudged, heels half-kicked off, voices soft and easy now.

BLACKPINK x F1. It felt surreal, like a crossover episode no one saw coming.

Lisa was mid-rant, waving her fork like a conductor. “Okay, but LA traffic is not just bad. It’s psychotic. I had one guy try to side-eye merge through me—”

George held up a calming hand. “Alright. Clearly, you need proper driving lessons.” Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Are you offering? On a track?”

“You know what?” George shrugged with a grin. “Yeah. I am.” Lisa leaned back, smirking. “Bet.”

Jennie, in a silky black dress and an oversized blazer that somehow made her look even more intimidatingly cool, was leaned in close to Lily, snorting with laughter as they compared their most ridiculous airport looks. “No, no, wait,” Jennie said between giggles, scrolling through her camera roll. “This one. It was 5 AM and I wore pajama pants with heels. The customs guy looked like he wanted to cry.”

“Iconic,” Lily grinned, stealing a fry from Oscar’s plate.

Rosé and Charles were at the end of the table, completely absorbed in a heated debate over sad girl anthems.

“Phoebe Bridgers,” Rosé said, swirling her wine.

“Lana Del Rey,” Charles argued. “Pure emotional devastation.”

“She’s depression in a dress, sure,” Rosé conceded, “but Phoebe is like a heartbreak stabbing you slowly with a glittery spoon.”

Carlos stood up suddenly, half-drunk on red wine and vibes. He raised his glass with a flourish.

“To BLACKPINK — legends, icons, heartbreakers." he turned dramatically toward the middle of the table, "Thank you for making our dear Lando spiral in real time on camera." He motioned to her.

The table erupted. Kika almost spit up her drink. Pierre nearly choked. Lisa was pounding the table in laughter.

Lando just launched a cloth napkin at Carlos’ head. She just smiled, glowing, cheeks flushed with warmth and wine. She leaned back in her chair, elbow resting lightly on Lando’s. “He’ll recover,” she said airily, taking a slow sip of her wine, “eventually.”

Lando leaned closer, voice low just for her. “Barely.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, eyes dancing. “Still not over Seoul City, huh?”

“You aimed that whole verse at me, don’t even lie.” She smirked. “I’m not even mad about it.”

“I know,” she said softly, gaze drifting down to his lips for half a second. “That’s why it worked.”

Their knees brushed under the table again. Neither of them moved away.

When the bill came, there was a brief, chaotic moment where the girls protested, reaching for clutches and tapping phones. But the drivers were already ten steps ahead.

Pierre and Kika took care of Jisoo, who tried to argue once before Kika waved her off with a, “Don’t even try, babe.”

Carlos and Rebecca cover Lisa, who raised a brow. “Look at you, all gentleman-y.”

Charles and Alex handled Jennie’s, despite her muttering something about “highway robbery” for a round of oysters.

George and Carmen waved Rosé’s card away, George bowing dramatically. “Artists should be spoiled. It’s in the Geneva Convention.”

Lando picked up the bill, card already in the folder, before she noticed.

She turned toward him, brows raised. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said, voice low and sincere.  She laughed under her breath, nudging his knee again. “I love you”

“I love you, too” he said, eyes soft now, his hand brushing hers under the table — a touch so quiet no one else noticed and in the low hum of the room — wine buzzed and heart-light — She looked at him like she finally saw it. This boy, who always laughed the loudest and looked like sunshine, was also the one who looked at her like she hung the stars. 

Paris after midnight was made for secrets and softness.

The streets had emptied, the night warm with the kind of breeze that lifted curls and carried perfume. They walked side by side, just the two of them now, drifting slowly through the city like they had nowhere else to be.

He held her hand — not tight, not possessive. Just a gentle, open-threaded kind of touch. Like he was afraid if he let go, the moment would disappear. She didn’t pull away. They turned a corner near the Seine, the river glittering like spilled starlight beneath the bridges.

“You were something else tonight,” Lando said, voice quiet. “Completely irresistible”

She smiled slowly, cheeks flushed, eyes warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only about you,” he murmured.

They stopped at the edge of the bridge, the kind with cast iron rails and lovers’ locks from years past. Paris spread out before them like a painting. The air was sweet with lilacs from a nearby florist’s cart, abandoned now for the night. His hand rested lightly on her waist. The city hummed around them, but it felt like they were wrapped in something quieter — something just for them.

She leaned in slowly, the space between them collapsing like it was always meant to. Her lips brushed his — barely at first. A whisper of a kiss, then deeper, warmer. His hand slid up to cradle her jaw, the kiss slow, reverent. There was no rush. No need to perform. Just the quiet, aching honesty of two people choosing each other.

When they pulled back, her eyes were glassy with starlight.

“Wanna head back to the hotel?” he asked, voice thick with something he didn’t have a name for yet. She nodded, her fingers finding his again. Under the watchful moon, with the cobblestones clicking beneath their steps, they walked — slow and tangled, not quite ready to let the night go. It wasn’t just Paris that was beautiful. It was them — in the softest version of forever, unfolding one heartbeat at a time.

They had just stepped into their hotel suite, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft thud. Lando’s jacket was off and tossed on the back of a chair. She was already reaching up to untwist her hair, letting it fall like silk down her back. Neither said a word at first. There was no rush. No need to fill the quiet. Not after tonight.

Lando just leaned against the wall for a second, watching her. The makeup was smudged at the corners of her eyes now, her lips a little faded, and she was still the most electric thing he’d ever seen. The echo of her voice — her presence — still vibrated somewhere inside him.

“You okay?” she asked softly, catching his gaze.

He let out a slow breath, as if finally exhaling everything he’d held in since the first second she stepped on that stage.

“No,” he said honestly. “You wrecked me.”

She smiled, walking over and setting her shoes by the door. “Lando—”

“You don’t get it,” he cut in, pushing off the wall. “I’ve seen you angry. I’ve seen you tired. I’ve seen you in sweats at home.. I’ve seen you fight for what you want, disappear when things get too loud, light up when you're in your element…” He stepped closer. “But I’ve never seen you like that. On stage. You were—” he shook his head, almost frustrated. “You were magic.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Not all of it. He gently took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Come here,” he said, voice low, pulling her toward the balcony.

Outside, the air was cool, a light breeze fluttering the sheer curtains. The city sparkled like it was wearing diamonds. The streets had quieted now, and it felt like they were floating above the world.

She leaned on the railing, arms crossed gently, and Lando came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. They stood like that for a while — skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat — the kind of silence that felt full rather than empty. She turned her head just slightly, and their cheeks brushed.

“You know,” she whispered, “I was nervous.”

Lando’s arms tightened a little around her. “Why?”

“It was your first time seeing me like that. On stage. I didn’t want you to feel like I was… someone else.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You weren’t someone else,” he said, quiet but certain. “You were more of you. All the fire and steel and softness. I just… got to see all of it at once.” She blinked slowly, heart suddenly thudding in a new way.

“You talk like you’re in love with me,” she murmured.

“I am,” he said, no hesitation. “Kinda feel like I have been for a while.”

She turned fully now, her hands resting gently on his chest, his thumbs brushing soft circles against her waist.

There was no dramatic music. No fireworks. Just the city, and their breath, and the way he looked at her like she was it. The whole answer.

“Lando…” she started, but he kissed her before she could finish — slow, tender, like a secret passed between them. When they finally pulled back, her hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt, she smiled softly.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

He rested his forehead against hers, laughing under his breath, full of disbelief and something deeper. “You think?”

She grinned, lips brushing his. “Pretty sure. Might need another kiss to confirm.”so he kissed her again — longer this time, hands cradling her face like she was something holy.

They didn’t go back inside for a while. Just stayed there, wrapped in each other, the city below and stars above, suspended in the quiet that only love can hold.

Lando just made a post

@/Lando

❤️ 7.9M 💬 25.1k ➤ 394k

Lando First time seeing her on stage, still trying to recover

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc bro we told you not to fall in love with a pop star 😭 good luck

@/Landohitsdiff she looked at you ONCE during “Tally” and you handed over your soul AND your credit card

@/jennierubyjane 👀😎

@/lisafromthetrack "still trying to recover" and she hasn't even posted HER pics yet. Rookie mistake

@/BLACKPINKgoesvroom she bobied the stage, bodied you, and still looked good going it 💅 icon

@/(y/n)updates he's whipped. we won

@/formulaladsdaily it's giving "she steps on me and I say thank you" we support it

@/User 1 not this F1 man turning into a groupie 💀 sit down lando

@/landoismyhusbandlol you know what? I ship it. painfully. aggressively. With my whole chest.

@/georgerussell63 Still recovering? Mate, you haven’t spoken in full sentences since her second verse 💀

@/pinkgridcanon I’ve seen ships with less chemistry get full novels. WHERE IS OUR FANFIC 👀

@/thegridshipper I was here for pole positions, now I’m here for soul positions. They’re ENDGAME.

@/Landofangirl444 she's mid, y'all just like her cause she's dating him. no stage presence, just snarky attitude

@/randomrbrfan69 another driver distracted by a pop girl 🙄 focus on the car maybe?

@/mimisleftboot she stomped in those thigh-highs and we all felt it. lando included 😌

@/jisooforpresident he’s living every fanfic writer’s dream and I’m just here eating cereal

@/Rosescreens nah but you looked in love. like…eye-twitching, stomach-flipping love.

@/landoisours we lost him to the sparkle boots and villain eyeliner 💔

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

Hope y'all enjoyed, now I can sleep stress free 😭💕

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[cheolaholic]

entangled hearts; jww & kmg

summary; you find yourself caught between Mingyu's bright smile and Wonwoo's knowing stare, it's an entangled mess. but what if there's enough room to love for three?

modern! au • university! au • fluff, angst, smut

pairing; jeon wonwoo x fem!reader x kim mingyu | wc; 16.1k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; part-time model! reader, part-time model! mingyu, streamer! wonwoo, art major! mingyu, criminal psychology major! reader, psychology major! wonwoo, hoshi is reader’s cousin, woozi being woozi, friendship breakups, false rumours being spread abt reader, reader accidentally walking in on wonwoo’s stream, brief appearances of other svt members, takes place in the same au as ROL

mature/trigger warnings; poly relationship, dom! wonwoo, switch! mingyu, sub! reader, spitroasting, fingering, begging, oral (f&m receiving), womb stimulation (i think that’s the term), choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, creampies, praising, mentions of alcohol, some form of anxiety/panic attack, gaslighting/manipulation tactics

petnames; Wonwoo (Wonu) // Mingyu (Gyu) // hers (Princess, Kitten)

a/n; that’s right yall, it’s a wongyu fic 😋 remember the wongyu couple i teased and mentioned about in rol, well, here it is !! not beta read, we die like soldiers 🫡 this is my first time writing a threesome so i had to REALLY read through some other threesome fics & doujins for inspo/references. if any similarities are found, it is not my intent to copy or plagiarise them 🙏🏻

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

👾 join my general taglist here !!

“Excuse me?”

You turned, instinctively taking a step back while your friends quieted beside you. A woman – tall, confident – stood just outside the café entrance. A leather-bound portfolio tucked beneath one arm, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

“I’m sorry, cupcake, I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, her smile warm but calculated, “but have you ever considered modeling?”

Your friends exchanged surprised glances, and you blinked at her, unsure if she was serious or if you were about to have your organs harvested and sold on the black market.

The woman’s gaze swept over you again, this time more admiring than analytical. “I have an eye for these things, cupcake, and you have it. You have a presence, a posture, even the way you carry that outfit. It’s simple, yet very editorial.” She gestures lightly at your clothes, causing you to glance down at the outfit you’d thrown together.

“That skirt with that jacket? Effortless. You know what you’re doing, even if you don’t realise it yet.”

You felt your cheeks warm, fingers curling slightly around your cup of iced coffee.

“I’m a talent scout,” she adds, flipping her portfolio and pulling out a sleek business card, offering it to you. “If you’re open to it, give me a call. I’d love to talk more.”

“Soonyoung–”

“Please, ___!” Your cousin pleads with you for the nth time that week, hands clasped dramatically in front of his chest. “You’re overwhelmed with studies and your modelling gig. You need a manager and I can totally do it!”

You raise your head and shoot him a skeptical look from over your laptop. “Since when do you know anything about being a manager?”

“I Googled it,” he says, expression dead serious. “And I’ve watched like… dozens of documentaries. Plus, I already help you with blocking out your schedule half the time anyway. Remember that shoot you had last week? Who reminded you to bring backup heels?”

You sigh, knowing Soonyoung was right. He was there when that talent scout spotted you outside the cade; and your life had shifted in ways you’ve never imagined. Castigns, fittings, shoots, and runway preps… It was a lot to balance on top of your academics.

“Just imagine, cuz,” he continues, hands in the air like he’s pitching to a boardroom. “You walk on the runway all calm and collected while I deal with scheduling nightmares and last-minute fittings. You won’t even have to look at an email unless it’s good news!”

“No offense, Soonyoung, but I put more trust in Jeonghan. At least he’s close with Joshua, and Shua knows Jihoon.”

Soonyoung gasps, dramatically placing a hand over his chest like you’d just told him the tiger in his living room wasn’t his son, and instead a taxidermy. “Excuse me!? Both of us quite literally grew up with Jihoon! I even performed with him!”

You raised a brow, “You mean that HxW stage you both put together during the uni fest?”

“Yes! You know how rare it is to perform with the Lee Jihoon?”

“You and Jidae screamed into the mic, and Jihoon looked like he’s one second away from whooping your ass for your Horanghae agenda.”

“He still stayed, though. That is what you call art.”

You stare. “You almost flicked his forehead and I saw your life flash before your eyes.”

He huffs. “Art is messy, ___. But Jihoon and I? We had chemistry, you can’t deny that. He called me ‘not terrible’ after so that definitely means something.”

“Heard Soonyoung appointed himself as your manager.”

You glanced up from your notes, blinking as Jihoon slid into the seat across from you like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest statement like it was small talk. You’re tucked away into your usual corner of the library – headphones halfway in, highlighter stopping mid-way from making contact with your notes.

“He what?” You asked, sliding off your headphones and letting them rest around your shoulders, padded cups pressing lightly against your collarbones.

Jihoon shrugs, resting his arms on the table. “He’s been sending me business emails using an address that ends in horanghae101.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He cracked the smallest hint of a smile. “He’s oddly persistent. But surprisingly organised.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” you muttered, before narrowing your eyes. “Wait. Why do you know that..?”

“Because the signature he used was Executive Brand Director & Emotional Support to ___.”

You slowly shake your head, “No… You’re lying.” Jihoon simply turned his tablet around, and there it was – screenshot and all.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered.

“But,” he said, tone shifting just a little. “His chaos aside, I actually came to talk to you about something else. A little more serious, if you will.”

You raise a brow, straightening in your seat as he pushes the tablet toward you. “Because you set me as your reference in the forms when you signed under Semicolon, and before Soonyoung self-appointed himself as your manager, I was the one getting most of your gig offers.”

“There’s this Dior campaign. Couple’s concept and minimalist luxury. It’s an editorial-style shoot with subtle intimacy. They saw your Vanguard test shots and flagged you immediately.”

You blinked, “Me..?”

“You.”

Tilting your head to the side, your brows knit together, “I’m just doing modeling as a part-time thing, though… Or freelance, as some of them call it. Why me? Why not those full-timers?”

Jihoon gestures to you, “Because you’re… you. I don’t know how to say it, but best way I can put it is you don’t try too hard, y’know? You’re natural. Authentic. Something all these big brands are desperately chasing for ever since authenticity became ‘trendy’. They want someone who doesn’t look like they’re trying to be iconic, but somehow is.”

You stared at him. Jihoon doesn’t usually hand out compliments, that’s something you learnt in the many years you’ve spent growing up with him and Soonyoung. But, when he does, though not straightforward, they carry weight. Subtle and rare – paired with his own natural talent and how he’s already made a name for himself as a producer – it means something.

Jihoon never says things just to be nice – never sugar coating or entertaining the idea of false praises.

And everyone in the entertainment industry knows it.

So if he thinks you’re a right fit, it’s not just flattery.

“...And the other half of this couple’s concept?”

He non-chalantly replies, “Mingyu.”

Your jaw drops. “Mingyu? As in Kim Mingyu? Pledis’ talented art major?”

“Giant. Heartthrob and walking cologne commercial?” Jihoon adds on before nodding, “The very same one. Let’s just say that Dior is looking for chemistry, some kind of beauty and the brain vibe.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Brains? Mingyu? I once saw this man run into a glass door.”

The young producer snorts back a laugh, clearing his throat while he pulls up the pitch deck for the shoot and showing it to you. “Hey, it could be the other way around. Point is, they think you and that giant could balance each other. Visually and energy-wise.”

You take a look at the pitch – mock-ups of the set, mood boards, wardrobe swatches.

Everything looked impossibly real.

“You interested?”

You glanced back at Jihoon, mind still processing the news. “Can Soonyoung come if I say yes?”

Jihoon laughs, reaching out to show you a separate screen. “He’s already trying to print name cards.”

The soft hum of the engine shifts as the plane starts to descend. Through the oval window, the clouds are scattered like pulled cotton, revealing a quilt of lights stitched into the city below. You lean your head against the frame, the glass cool against your skin.

“Soonyoung,” your voice was barely louder than the thrum beneath your seat, but you know he’s listening. “Do you think people assume I’m not that good of a person because I’m in this whole… modeling thing?”

You don’t look at him, but you feel the slight shift in his posture. You can tell he’s frowning just from his voice, “Is this because of the fall out you had with Haemin and the rest?”

You nod faintly, still watching the night view of the city from the plane.

“She said I’ve changed,” you reply. “That ever since I signed with the agency and gone freelance, I’ve been… different. Distant. That all I talk about besides my studies were castings or editorials.”

You pause, “She said I don’t like myself anymore.”

Soonyoung is quiet, but you can tell the new information upsets him. He knew about the fall-out you had with your friend group, but he never knew the exact reason until now. His jaw tightens – he always hates it when people put you down or your self-doubt gets the best of you.

You had potential.

He knows and sees it.

“If she can’t be happy that you’re making a name for yourself,” he starts, voice low but firm, “and she’s saying all these things to make her look like a better person… is she really a friend?”

The edge in his voice takes you by surprise..

“The same goes for the rest of them,” he adds. “They were so quick to side with Haemin without even hearing you out. That’s not what friends do, ___. You know that.”

You turn your head towards him slowly. You know he’s not angry, just tired of watching you carry guilt that was never yours to begin with.

“I don’t… I don’t think they meant to hurt me…” you murmur quietly.

Your cousin shakes his head, “No, but they did. And yea, maybe they didn’t mean to. But they chose to listen to just one side of the story. It was easier for them to pick a side than sitting in the middle, trying to understand the whole picture. That tells you what kind of person they are, ___.”

The plane dips again, wheels lowering beneath the roar of wind and drag. The seatbelt sign dings softly above as it lights up.

You slump into the chair a little, “It just… It just sucks,” you whisper. “To feel like I’m losing people just because I’m doing what I love or doing good in something I wasn’t expecting to.”

Soonyoung gives your knee a reassuring squeeze, his voice softer now. “You didn’t lose them, okay? They let go of you. There’s a difference.”

You don’t say anything. The runway lights rise to meet the plane, and the wheels touch down with a jolt – screeching, then slowing as gravity catches up. Soonyoung doesn’t take his eyes off you, not even as the cabin fills with sounds of buckles clicking, phones buzzing back to life and the polite announcements in two languages.

“You’re not a bad person, ___,” he says simply. “You’re just growing. And it’s okay if not everyone keeps up.”

DIOR: L’Instant à Deux

You barely have time to take in the studio before the director drags Soonyoung to the side to discuss the details of the shoot while a stylist guides you past racks of garments and light fixtures that hum softly. Heels click over concrete – the set smells like linen, coffee and something that you assume to be either jasmine or orange blossom.

It smells like there’s a small promise floating in the air.

“Hi, Kwon ___, right?” a staff member asks with a smile. She’s dressed in head-to-toe black, with a headset slung around her neck with a tiny Dior pin glinting on her collar.

“That’s me,” you respond with an equally warming smile.

“You’re early for call time,” she chuckles, flipping through the printed shoot-sheet in hand. “But, that’s a good thing! Gives us a little breathing room before we get started.”

“Yeah, our family has this whole ‘arrive earlier than stated’ in our blood,” you joked, fingers brushing your coat lapels while you try not to look as jittery as you feel. You glance over at the set – and it was breathtaking as hell.

Like the inside of a Parisian style apartment that’s been plucked from a property magazine. Ivory curtains billow in the breeze of a hidden fan, and there’s a table on the side that's been set for two, the candle just waiting to be lit.

Everything is so carefully curated, yet somehow there’s a romantic feel in its stillness.

“So, welcome to L’Instant à Deux, officially.” She gives you a brief wink before continuing, “The theme is modern intimacy. Not the ‘fire that burns the brightest also goes out the fastest’ kind. Think quiet moments between two people in love. The synergy and chemistry is just there. NO words are exchanged, but one look and you know exactly what the other needs.”

“Dior made it very clear that they want connection. Eye contact. A kind of vibe that makes people believe you’ve known each other for years.”

You hum in understanding, already understanding the picture she’s painting out.

“After this short briefing, they’ll start styling you for the first set. It’ll be a morning shot so you’ll be dressed in soft neutrals and satin, like you just woke up in love in the penthouse. Then we’ll transition to more tailored looks in the afternoon.”

“Any night shoots that need to be done?”

She raises an eyebrow, as though asking if you had any plans later that night. “Oh, I don’t have anything going on. Just curious if you guys planned some kind of ‘night in the romantic city’ kind of shoot.”

She thinks about it, “We didn’t… But, I like the sound of that. Let me ask the director and Mingyu’s manager if they’re up for the idea!” She then glances at her watch, “Oh, and yes, Mingyu’s already here. He’s being fitted right now, so you’ll see him on set soon enough.”

Your breath catches just slightly, but you try to play it cool. “He’s taller in person,” the staff casually adds as she walks away, grinning. “And hella charming. You’ll need a lot of luck surviving that.”

You laugh softly to yourself, staring down at the subtle embroidery on the hem of a dress that’s been draped over the rack.

‘Lots of luck indeed…’

“Talent on set!”

You’re ushered out of wardrobe as the soft thud of the shutter click is tested in the background. Your bare feet sink into the plush carpet of the set – a cozy, soft-sunlight bedroom scene complete with cream sheets, books scattered around, and a half-drunk (or at least it looked like someone drank it) glass of water sat on the nightstand.

Everything looked lived in.

Intimate.

Like a Sunday morning you never want to end.

Then you hear a low laugh.

You turn, and sitting on the edge of the bed was Kim Mingyu. The photographer probably said something funny with how he threw his head back. One hand loosely resting on his thigh, the other pushing his hair back in a way that’s so effortlessly charming that you aren’t sure if it was muscle memory or instinct.

As if sensing you, he looks up. And when his gaze meets yours, he stands.

“Hey, took you long enough,” he teases, walking over with a slow yet confident stride that only someone like him could do. “I was starting to think they paired me with a ghost and that this was an early Halloween shoot.”

You managed a smile, extending your hand. “Would’ve made your job easier, though.”

He chuckles, taking your hand in his to give it a shake. His palm feels warm, his grip firm – but not overbearing, or as though he was trying to size you up.

“Mingyu.”

“___.”

He repeats your name, like he’s trying it on for size. But the way each syllable rolls off his tongue feels almost too intimate for a first meeting, like he wants to memorise it.

“Alright, let’s get into position!” the photographer calls.

You’re guided towards the bed, the director explaining the scene as she walks with you. “It’s a gentle start. You just woke up, morning light, lazy touches, soft smiles… Like it’s the kind of love that has you falling even more, understood?”

You and the giant settle in under the covers, shoulders brushing as the makeup artist gives Mingyu’s look some final touch ups. He leans over to you and whispers, “Is this weird? Lying in bed together before we even had coffee?”

You laugh, the sound surprising even you with how natural it felt. “Maybe a little.”

His canines show as he grins, eye crinkling, “Well, guess we’ll just have to make it look like we’ve done this a hundred times.”

“And it’s a wrap!” the director calls out, voice tinged with exhaustion but pride. “Thank you everyone!”

You let out a quiet breath, somewhere between relief and exhaustion. Your cheeks still carry traces of highlighter, your body humming from hours of adjusting, holding and smiling.

“Here.” Mingyu holds out a bottle of water, already uncapped, like he somehow knew you wouldn’t have the energy to do it yourself.

“Thanks…”

Mingyu rolls his shoulders with a sigh, “Think my back is permanently imprinted with the Dior headboard.”

“I think your collarbone probably has its own Instagram account by now,” you joke.

He snorts, “Please, I’ve seen someone use mingyusleftasscheek as their username.”

You laugh again, but softer this time. It lingers in the air – comfortable and familiar.

“Heard from your cousin, well, manager; that this is your first big gig,” he starts, “You did really well today.”

“Thanks,” you reply, voice a little softer now. “So were you.”

He leans a little closer, like he’s about to whisper a secret. “I’m not gonna lie, I thought it’d be awkward. Like forced smiles, hands in weird places…”

You hum in agreement and he continues, “But with you, it didn’t feel that way.”

Your heart stutters, but not in a bad way. You look back towards the set where hours ago, you had to pretend to wake up in bed beside him, to fall in love in the busy streets and champagne toasts.

“Same,” you admit, eyes returning to him. “Didn’t feel too fake.”

“Guys,” one of the staff calls out, “Wrap up dinner, let’s go! Director said it’s on him!”

You and Mingyu chuckle. He stands first, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stand after him seconds later, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater Dior insisted you bring back as a souvenir. Part of you already misses the quiet bubble you’d been sitting in with him. He slings his jacket over one shoulder, eyes flicking to you with casual ease but it doesn’t hide the spark beneath it, “You coming?”

You nod, walking beside him as you both walk towards the rest of the crew.

gyu 🐶: heyyyy gyu 🐶: here’s my personal number ;)) gyu 🐶: i got yours from your manager gyu 🐶: hope you’re cool with it !! gyu 🐶: this is easier for less business talk gyu 🐶: and i kinda wanna talk to you more aside from gigs whatnot gyu 🐶: as in i wanna know you more as a person gyu 🐶: like genuinely

It’s strange when you think back to that first shoot you had with Mingyu.

You still remember how he looked like he was trying to memorise everything about you in one blink. How neither of you really knew each other, yet somehow managed to make it look like you’ve shared Sunday mornings for years.

That was a year ago.

Now?

Now, it’s nothing to see his name lighting up on your phone late one night because he found a ridiculous meme. Or for you to text him if he could be a subject for your practical.

The campaign ended, but a friendship began in its place.

So now, you’re here – pressed into the corner booth of an 80s themed diner with Mingyu sitting beside you, shoulders brushing yours every time he shifts his weight. Sitting across from you were two of his closest friends – Seungcheol and Vernon.

“Seungcheol’s hyung is the oldest of us, natural leader. He’s taken so if you’re thinking of hitting him up, may as well abandon ship. He’s crazy loyal for his pup.”

You raise a brow, “Pup? You call your girl ‘pup’?”

The blonde man shrugs with a grin, “It’s a nickname I gave her since we were kids. Kinda stuck and never left.”

You nod, “With that kind of context, lowkey cute.”

“Vernon, or Hansol, is the youngest. He’s either about to say something philosophical… or the most cursed shit you’ve ever heard. There is no in-between when it comes to this man.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his milkshake, “So this is the Dior Princess, huh? Mingyu talked about you a lot.”

After the campaign had gone viral, the internet was quick to dub the two of you Dior’s Prince and Princess. The nickname stuck and it didn’t help that the behind-the-scenes footage captured stolen glances and quiet laughter that fans clung to like gospel.

From the photos plastered on billboards, magazines; to fanedits that circled the web, it was clear that the chemistry between you two was almost impossible to ignore.

You glanced at Mingyu who takes a bite out of his fries like it’s suddenly the most fascinating he’e ever seen and tasted.

“He did, huh?”

Vernon snorts, “Not in a weird way. Mostly in an admirable way since he kept repeating how natural it felt. Which reminds me of the time he fell asleep mid-study and woke up reciting a skincare ad.”

Mingyu groans, “Please, stop reminding me of that.”

Halfway through eating your mac-n-cheese, Vernon pops another question, “Is Wonwoo not coming?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Midterms are coming up. He’s probably in the library going through his notes.”

The giant next to you snorts, “No joke. I called him earlier to ask if he’s coming. Bro picked up just to say, ‘I’m busy with midterms’ and hung up.”

“Wait,” you pause, glancing up when Seungcheol mentioned Wonwoo’s midterm prep like he’s mapping out a whole war strategy on the fire nation. “Is Wonwoo a psych major?”

A look of surprise crosses their face, “Yeah, he is. Why?”

You shrug casually, “Ah, then that means he’s prepping for the same midterm I have next week.”

Vernon leans forward, his curiosity piqued. “You’re in psych?”

You smiled, “Criminal psych to be specific.”

Mingyu’s head almost snapped with how quick he turned it, “Wait, seriously?"

“I know it’s not exactly a major people expect for someone who spends half their time in front of a camera, but–”

“Oh no, no, no,” Vernon intervenes, “It’s hella cool, actually. Fits you too.”

You blink, tilting your head to the side, “Fits me?”

“Yea. You observe, ask questions at the right time. You listen more than you talk that it makes people think you’re just nodding along.”

There’s a brief moment of silence.

“Well, Vernon, remind me to psychoanalyze you later. Strictly for academic purposes, of course.”

Vernon grins. “Can’t wait to be a case study or thesis paper.”

Seungcheol groans, “Don’t give her ideas of us being test subjects, please.”

“Too late!”

The campus library is unusually crowded for a weekday afternoon, almost every table claimed by open laptops, notes, and the quiet hum of caffeine-fueled panic. Finals week always brought the worst out of everyone.

You hold your drink in one hand, your laptop tucked under your arm as you scan the library for an empty table. A small corner table clears up for you, the students packing up their things and you quickly slip into it, relieved to finally be off your feet.

Then you see him.

Head down, headphones on, walking with that unreadable expression he always had, making it almost impossible to tell whether he’s in a good mood, a bad mood, or just deep in thought. He had a thick folder tucked under an arm, dressed plainly with his glasses perched on his nose bridge.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You don’t move – not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t.

You half expected him to recognise you or notice you – either because you shared some classes or because Mingyu had introduced you a few days ago when you were visiting their apartment.

But it never came.

He walks right past your table like you don’t exist.

No sneaking glances, no hesitation whether or not he should greet you.

Nothing.

And then you hear them.

Seated just a little further behind you was your old friend group – laughing and whispering. You can’t hear what they say, but the assumption has begun to build. Maybe Wonwoo did see you, but he’s been told to ignore you. Your fingers tighten around your cup and you glance down at your notes, trying to refocus; but your mind’s already spiraling.

They definitely said something. Maybe it wasn’t straight to the point, but it could be subtle – just enough to plant a seed of doubt.

“Don’t bother with her, she’s not who she makes herself out to be.”

“She’ll make you look bad.”

“She always plays the victim. Like she wasn’t the one who started everything.”

You exhale through your nose, trying to shake out the bad memories before then forcing yourself to flip through your midterm review.

‘If Wonwoo believed whatever he heard, that’s on him,’ you tell yourself.

But still.

Part of you was disappointed because you thought that maybe he’d known they’d be lying. He’s a psych major after all.

Then again, it was Wonwoo’s decision to believe what he wants.

You sat on the floor of Mingyu’s room, your knees pulled to your chest while he leaned against his bed, watching you with quiet concern. He passes you a bottle of water, “What’s bothering you, princess?”

You peeped at him, “Princess?”

He grins, his canines showing whenever he does. “Yeah. That’s what I’m calling you from now on, Princess.”

You give him a look, and he just chuckles, nudging the bottle closer to you. “Come one, you’ve been dubbed Dior’s Princess ever since that shoot with me.” Your lips curved slightly, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift completely and he noticed; his voice softening again, “So, what’s actually bothering you?”

“Wonwoo…” you murmured, fingers twisting the cap of the bottle. Mingyu’s expression flickered, but he didn't say anything. “He… I guess he was kinda nice when we first met..? But lately… He’s been distant… Sometimes he just walks by me like I wasn’t even there.”

You hesitated, then added quietly, “I… I think maybe he’s heard some gossip or rumours about and because of that, he’s not acknowledging me…”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches and for a brief second, he looks away. When he turns back, his eyes are a little darker – not of anger, but there’s definitely conflict in them. “Wonwoo isn’t the kind of guy to believe rumours blindly,” he finally says, voice low. “He’s careful, guarded. But not unfair. Plus, he’s a psych major; you of all people know psych majors don’t take words at face value.”

You stared at him.

He gives a small smile. “Plus, you said it yourself last time. If you want to know what’s going on, you’re gonna have to ask or talk to the person.”

You chewed your lip, still unsure. Mingyu continues, “Wonwoo is always rational. Sure, he malds over his games, but he won’t let some rumours cloud his judgment of a person.”

He leans in just slightly, a teasing grin on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Unless you’d rather stay here with me instead.”

You blinked and he laughed, “I’m kidding, Princess. Well, kind of.”

“You’re impossible, Gyu…” you mutter, half-exasperated, half-flustered.

“Hey, I’m honest.”

And that was true.

You sighed and stood, nerves coiling in your stomach. “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

The Dior Prince doesn’t follow you, but you could feel the way his gaze lingered until you disappeared out his door.

You paced outside Wonwoo’s room longer than you should have, your nerves going haywire.

The door was cracked open just enough for you to hear the low murmur of his voice.

“...no, chat, I’m not going to get Princess back on stream just so you can be down bad for her. One, Coups would behead me and two, he’ll either ban you or put you in time out.”

You blinked.

Chat?

You pushed the door open just a little, just to peek a bit more – and sure enough, there he was. Seated comfortably in his gaming chair, headset on, the glow of the LED strip lights casting his room in a red hue. His voice sounded deeper; he sounded more focused, sarcastic, teasing.

It takes a minute for you to register.

Wonwoo was streaming.

Live.

You carefully stepped inside just as he leaned back slightly and stretched. You then noticed how massive his audience was when you saw the chaos flooding his vertical monitor. Then, his viewers noticed you in the frame.

uriboobear: no fucking way uriboobear: THE DIOR PRINCESS???? woozi_factory: gurl wtf are you doing there woozi_factory: are you banging him and the color blind model horanghae_kwon: wts horanghae_kwon: i feel so betrayed rn iamadino: what the fuck iamadino: dior princess sighting iamadino: #holyfuckingairball iamadino: SOMEONE CLIP QUICK 📎 cheolcoups clipped your stream! — Dior Princess Sighting [View Clip] hannieangel: thanks coups cheolcoups: np

Wonwoo froze, then very slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

Sure enough, you stood next to his door looking like an absolute deer-in-headlights. Your voice was soft, but the mic picked it up, “Hi…”

His chat exploded.

junmoonhui: BROOO I THOUGHT IT WAS AI junmoonhui: UR TELLING ME SHE’S REAL junmoonhui: AND IN HIS ROOM????? the1&only8: okay damn the1&only8: do yall live together or banging hannieangel: and the way he turned lmfaoooo hannieangel: also drop the game bro hannieangel: drop dead gorgeous just walked in like a cutscene

The streamer blinked, then quickly muted his mic and lifted his headset off. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice softer than the one his chat had been watching seconds ago. You nodded, awkwardly stepping in further. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were a streamer and going live. I wanted to talk to you about something but I– I can come back another–”

Wonwoo stood up immediately. “No. It’s okay, we can talk.”

And his chat went feral.

horanghae_kwon: holy shit horanghae_kwon: bro stood up so fast iamadino: that ain’t a friend stand up yall iamadino: that’s a mfcking lover stand up the1&only8: and they way he looked at her???? the1&only8: jun hold my hair im abt to throw up junmoonhui: you have a mullet hao the1&only8: sybau n play along

Wonwoo reached over and without hesitation – ended his stream. No sign-off. No raid.

Just black screen.

Silence followed after for a few seconds.

“You didn’t need to–”

“If you came here, ___, it means you came to talk to me about something.” He turns to look at you fully, “And I’m assuming it’s something important with how much you’re shaking.”

You awkwardly sat on the edge of his bed, fingers fidgeting in your lap. Wonwoo dropped his headset on the desk and pulled his gaming chair closer – close enough to talk, but far enough for the space to feel cautious.

“Why have you been treating me like I don’t exist?”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you notice the way his fingers flexed against the arm of the chair.

You take a breath, “I mean, I know we don’t know each other that well, but since we’re friends with Mingyu, I thought we’d at least… y’know… be somewhat friends too… But, you always just… treat me like I’m air and–”

“Whoa, easy there, ___,” he cuts in, “Why don’t you breathe in for me first?”

You blink, cough off guard by the interruption. His voice isn’t cold. If anything, it was calm and steady, like he’s trying to anchor you. You do as told and he scoots a little closer, “Good girl.”

“Now out.”

He waits, eyes not leaving yours. “Again.”

You follow, heart still pounding in your chest, but the air starts to flow a little easier.

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re transparent. It’s clear I’m not great at this whole… social thing.” He glances over your shoulder, then back at you. “But, I do see you, ___. It’s hard to not notice you when you’re in my class while also being plastered all over magazines and editorials.”

His voice drops just a little, almost too soft to catch. “That’s the problem.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Mingyu,” he starts, leaning back with his hands loosely capped between his knees as he exhales. “There’s no easy way to sugar coat this so I’ll just come right out with it. Gyu and I… we’ve always shared the girls we’re ‘seeing’ or at least somewhat into. It could be some model chick he’s met, some girl we met at a bar or club… It was easy because things were always just physical between us. Nothing that stuck. No jealousy or complications.”

“What does that have anything to do with me? With why you’re–”

“It has everything to do with you, ___.” Wonwoo sighs, “Gyu’s been talking about you like you’re more than just another girl. Like he’s not just wanting to get up your skirt and make it a one time thing, y’know?”

You swallowed, “And you think that means I’m off-limits? Even if it’s a simple friendship?”

Wonwoo shrugged, “Things between Gyu and I… At least in a scenario like this where he looks at you like he means it, like it’s not just fun – like he’d actually stay. If he wants to be serious with you, I figured I need to respect it. That’s all.”

“But–”

“I’m sorry if my behaviour or actions made it seem like I’m ignoring you on purpose, ___. But, I promise I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t want to be in Gyu’s way of finally having an actual connection or relationship with someone. And since he wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings with you, I shouldn’t be pretending to not notice it. So… I kept my distance.”

The quiet settled again.

You didn’t know what to say after that.

And neither did he.

The silence that settled between you wasn’t cold, but not exactly comfortable either. It was just there.

Until you asked, “Would you trust me if people told you rumours or gossip about me?”

“C’mon, ___,” he chuckles, “This is me we’re talking about. You really think I’ll believe the words of a stranger over a person’s actual personality?”

He’s got you there.

Then, he moved.

He leaned in, almost cautiously, like he didn’t know what he was doing either. And then, in a very uncharacteristic gentle manner, press a kiss to your forehead.

You both froze and the moment lingered; warm skin against skin, his breath brushing your hairline, and something unspoken seeping into the silence. When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable. You probably mirrored it.

“What… What was that..?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. As though he was still processing his actions.

“Just a habit of mine,” he replied.

Liar.

But you didn’t press, and neither of you said anything more about it.

When you stood to leave, your chest felt just a little tighter. Like something had settled into place, but neither of you had the words for it yet.

And when the door clicked shut behind you once you left, Wonwoo still stood there…. Thumb brushing across his lower lip.

Wondering why it felt right.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Club & Societies Fair moved to Next Weds, 3PM @ Main Quad

Prof. Hakyeon’s Thurs 9AM Lecture: Cancelled (Replacement Class to be Announced Soon)

Lost Airpods in Stitch Casing in Library! Approach Lost & Found to claim.

🧠 NEED TO KNOW

Next Sem Schedule Drop: 7th Jul 20XX

New study area opened in East Wing – fully air-conditioned too!

👀 GOSSIP BOARD

💬 anon: anybody else noticed the Dior Princess on Wonwoo’s stream? Are the banging eo or like, it’s a three-way thing between him & the roommate?

anon1: nah like i wanna know too anon1: also did yall see the way he looked at her? anon2: bffr he looked so in love anon3: frrrrr anon3: like damn, i wished someone looked at me like that too anon2: if she banging them both anon2: she hit the jackpot frfr anon4: nah anon2 anon4: if she’s dating them both anon4: that’s the jackpot

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone��s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Pledis Fall Party @ NU’EST

Hey boys and girls + non-binary peeps! To celebrate the start of the new fall semester, NU’EST has announced that everyone is invited to their upcoming frat party!

📍 Venue: NU’EST Frat House (right behind North Quad)

📆 Date & Time: This Friday, 8PM till late

🪩 Theme: 70s Disco

🍻 Live DJ sets, drink specials, real food & surprise performances. Come for the drinks, stay for the vibes. You might leave with a few numbers or with someone. wink-wonk.

📮 This party is an open invite, all students are welcomed! (Queer friendly, no cover, no drama!)

Got questions? Hit up @renminki.NU or check the pinned IG post on @HouseOfNu

Let’s make it a night you won’t ever forget… or only half remember 😉

The party was loud.

Lights dim and pulsing, music vibrating through the floor and through your ribs; clusters of people scattered across the living room and onto the balcony. Voices rose and fell like waves of static in your ears, laughter echoed – and somewhere in the house, someone was already tipsy enough to dance on a coffee table (yes, it was Soonyoung).

These kinds of parties were never your cup of tea. Contrary to popular belief, you were a homebody – you preferred the comfort and quietness of your studio compared to the thrum of bass-heavy music and bodies pressed up against each other in a sweaty, alcohol-fueled haze.

But Jihoon had insisted that it would be a ‘low-pressure’ thing, that he’d stick by your side the entire night (until Joshua or Jisoo swooped in and took him off to discuss something about an upcoming Open Mic). Soonyoung had also texted you five separate times the second the announcement rolled out.

tiger couz 🐯: pleaseee tiger couz 🐯: just come hang with us tiger couz 🐯: it’ll be fun! tiger couz 🐯: just drinks n dancing tiger couz 🐯: no drama, promise

You didn’t have much of a choice since they both self-invited themselves into your place hours before the party, and your cousin practically shoved you into a pink glittery mini dress with flared sleeves and matching headband.

They meant well. They always have, even when you were kids. Which is what you love about the two dorks even though there were times you’d want to strangle them for their dumb ideas.

The hours were closing in to 10PM, and so far you were fine.

Until you saw him.

Wonwoo.

He’s leaning against the balcony railing, drink in hand, dressed in all black, expression unreadable… then his eyes found yours. And just from his gaze alone, your stomach dropped because you knew something was wrong.

He pushed off the railing and strode towards you, each step purposeful. His mouth was set in a firm line, eyes locked on yours. “Can I talk to you?”

Your heart rate picked up, but you nodded.

Wonwoo leads you to an empty guest room, door slightly ajar behind you – the room was still dim, still loud; but it was removed just enough that his words could be heard.

“I ran into someone earlier,” he starts, voice low, almost careful – but still tight. “Her name was Haemin. Said she used to be a friend of yours.”

Your breath caught and you stared at him, frozen.

“She… She said you aren’t who you make yourself out to be. That you ruined someone’s reputation, twisted the story to turn everyone against her and–”

“Do you believe them?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said. “I still don’t. But the way she said in such a confident manner, how you seemed on edge whenever someone said they’ve heard things about you… It made me wonder…”

He trailed off.

Your throat closed. “You… You think I’m playing the victim?”

His expression cracked just a fraction. “I don’t want to believe that, ___. But, I need you to help me understand all this–”

“You think I haven’t tried that, Wonwoo?” you snapped, voice rising before it cracked. “You have no idea what it felt like. To lose everyone. To have your name turned into a warning. To try and clear my name, but nobody would listen. And now, you’re asking me if I was the villain because of some hearsay?”

You hate how you’re being interrogated like you were in the wrong. You’ve tried to prove those rumours wrong, but nobody was willing to listen. Whenever you tried to explain, all you got were dismissive;

“It’s true, though… You’re a model…”

“You’re a psych major. Who’s to say you’re not psyching us?”

He blinked.

Then it hit you – the tears threatening behind your eyes, the voices blurring and the walls of the room slowly tilting.

It was all too much.

“I need to go,” you whispered, already turning.

“Wait–”

But you were already walking.

You pushed through the crowd, heart hammering and no seeing faces, just shapes and shadows. You weren’t sure if you were angry, scared or just done with the feeling of always having to defend yourself. You barely made it past the hallway when a hand caught your wrist, their grip firm but gentle.

“Hey.”

Mingyu.

You turned.

He looked worried, conflicted even. “You okay?” he asked gently, “Did Wonwoo say something to you?”

You blink fast to clear your vision, “Gyu, not now–”

You want to brush it off, to escape, but then the giant puppy steps closer. “I saw him kiss your forehead the other night.”

You froze.

Mingyu’s hand dropped slowly from your wrist, like he’d just realised how much you were shaking. He continued, his voice steady despite the conflicted undertone. “Wonwoo… Look, I’ve known him for years and he doesn’t do that. Ever. Not with anyone. Not unless it means something.”

You swallowed thickly, “Mingyu, now isn’t–”

He shakes his head, “No, please, ___, just hear me out. I’ve known him for years and I know that was far from casual. And… And I see the way he looks at you. Even if he’s too scared to admit it, I know he felt something.”

Your eyes were wide when you looked up at him.

“And I did too.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not saying this to make things harder, but I need you to know that I like you. I have for a while now. A-And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have these feelings for you. If Wonwoo is too much of a pussy to face his feelings, I’m not.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your thoughts start to spin like they’d all slammed into each other at once – maybe because the room felt too small. Maybe because you were already on the edge.

You blinked rapidly, the sting behind your eyes too much to swallow.

The party around you was getting too loud. Too bright.

Soonyoung and Jihoon were nowhere in sight.

Wonwoo’s confrontation.

Mingyu’s confession.

“I… I can’t,” you choked out. “I need to go…”

You stepped back and before Mingyu could say another word, you slipped past him; away from the noise, from the crowd – away from both of them.

The shared apartment was strangely silent, save for the soft hum for the air conditioners and the occasional clink of the ice melting in the glass beside him.

He’s sat at his desk, not streaming, editing, gaming and not even trying to be productive. His fingers hovered over the keyboard without purpose, his monitor dimming on its own as if recognising the stillness.

He wasn’t sure when these feelings had started.

It wasn’t at the party, that much he was sure of.

How could he when you looked like that under the strobing lights? The way your voice cracked when you asked if he thought that you were the villain. Not even when the sting of guilt clung to him as he watched you walk away.

No, it had to be way before that.

Maybe it was the first time you challenged him in class – voice soft, but your mind was most definitely sharp; sometimes making or asking statements that would make even the professor pause.

Maybe it was the time you fell asleep on the couch without realising it, laptop open, playlist still playing with one of your reports halfway done.

Or maybe it was the night you brought hot tea to Mingyu after he got sick after finals and casually handed him a cup too, telling him, “Don’t think I don’t know you were doing that sub-a-thon thing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as he let his head fall against the headrest. He hadn’t realised he’d already started falling until it hurt to watch her walk away. This wasn’t your average crush that’s all fire and flash; it crept in quietly. Almost gentle.

This crush of his was something that’s always been there and it wasn’t until the weight of what if sat heavier than anything than they’d both said.

And maybe that’s why it sat like a stone on his chest.

Wonwoo isn’t someone who did feelings out loud. He doesn’t wear them on his sleeves, and doesn't spill them into crowded rooms.

He lets out a slow breath, finally moving his eyes away from the dark monitor, his gaze landing on his bed where he had pressed a kiss to your forehead weeks ago. You weren’t there, but the echo of your presence lingered in the air.

In the space he hadn’t realised he’s carved out.

Maybe he had been falling for you for a while – he just didn’t know how to land without breaking.

Wonwoo’s door swung open, though he didn’t turn around to look at the person who had the audacity to barge into his personal space.

He didn’t need to.

“What do you need, Mingyu?” He sighed.

Mingyu’s voice was flat, cutting – it was out of his character unless he’s pissed. “You talked to her. At the party.”

“So?”

“You asked her about her past, didn’t you?” He scoffs before continuing, “I thought you were better than this, hyung. You of all people know that you shouldn’t judge a person based on rumours or gossip. So, why the fuck were you–”

Wonwoo stood from his chair, the calm gone from his expression as he turned to look at the model. “Kim Mingyu, don’t come in here and like you’re some kind of moral compass.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me about crossing lines when you confessed to her and basically outed my feelings in the same breath.”

Mingyu frowns, “I didn’t out anything.”

“Really? You told her I kissed her like it meant something.”

“It did and you know it. You don’t just show affection or care like that to anyone, Woo.”

Silence.

“You used what I did, what I wasn’t ready to talk about; you still outed me. You don’t think that’ll push her further away?”

Mingyu blinked, the accusation finally sinking in – and it sank deeper than he expected. “I’m not trying to use it against you. I didn’t even mean to out you in a way that–”

“But you still did,” Wonwoo’s voice was quieter now. “Maybe not on purpose, but it still happened.”

The model looked away.

“You said yourself, Gyu,” the streamer muttered, “That kind of affection from me is rare.”

Mingyu’s voice softened, “Because I know how hard it is for you to show it, hyung.”

After a beat, he speaks again. “Maybe that’s why she ran… Because if it really meant something to you, to her – then you questioning her is basically saying it means nothing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, shoulder tense. And for the first time, his voice cracked just a bit. “The look she gave me… When I asked her about her past, when I asked her if the rumours were true… She looked at me like she was bracing herself for the world to fall apart again.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

They didn’t have to. Didn’t need to.

Because for once, they both understood one thing:

They were both falling.

And so was she.

DA BOIS 🍻

cheol: so uh cheol: anybody gonna tell me wtf is going on with woo n gyu cheol: cuz why the hell do yall look like you’re one wrong breath away cheol: from tearing out each other’s throat alien-non: girl problems tallgyu: how the fuck do you know that cheol: if you’re this pissy then it’s true cheol: jihoon mentioned his friend’s been shutting herself in for days with no contact cheol: that your girl? gameboi: that should be her gameboi: and hansol’s right gameboi: it’s a girl problem cheol: so basically cheol: us joking abt you two liking the same girl has manifested into an actual thing cheol: holy fuck alien-non: have you talked to her? gameboi: she’s ghosting everyone tallgyu: i asked her cousin tallgyu: said it’s smtg normal for her n she’ll come find us if she wants to talk cheol: so you’re giving her space rn gameboi: yea alien-non: cool alien-non: good luck tho cheol: and prayers cheol: yall defo gonna need it

Time’s passed by in a haze for you.

You hadn’t answered any messages.

Not Soonyoung’s, “You doing alright?”

Not Jihoon’s, “You alive bitch?”

You didn’t eat much, either – your appetite probably on a wanted post somewhere downtown.

You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. It just stayed stuck behind your eyes, heaving and aching. You had put your phone on DND before throwing it onto the coffee table, now it’s probably buried underneath the mass amounts of junk food and books.

Your studio was silent and you were about to resume whatever pity party that was going on until the lock clicked.

You froze, a blanket draped over your legs while you sat on the couch, wearing the same hoodie you’d cry into four nights ago. Familiar footsteps fill your studio – soft and confident that it announces who your visitors were.

“Couz, you still alive in here?”

You don’t move.

Seconds later, Jihoon’s head poked into the living room, followed by Soonyoung who was carrying a large takeout bag.

You cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded when you whispered, “You used the spare key.”

Jihoon shrugs, “You gave it to us.”

“In case of emergencies.”

Soonyoung snorts, “And you ghosting everyone, probably not eating properly for days isn’t an emergency? You went off the grid, ___.”

Jihoon sat next to you, “We got worried. Last time you went off the grid, you actually went mia for like, three months?”

“I’m fine,” you tried to assure them, but your voice cracked on the last word. Soonyoung sets the takeout bag on your kitchen counter. “Yea, sure. And I’m Jihoon’s assistant producer.”

The breath you huffed out might’ve been a laugh had it not felt like someone has a tight grip on your throat.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything – if anything, he’s just like Wonwoo, but just a little more expressive than the tall streamer. He rests an arm on the back of the couch and looks at you to make sure you weren’t going to lie to him.

“We’ve known you for years, ___,” he starts quietly. “Talk to us.”

“I messed everything up,” you murmured.

“No,” the blonde next to you was quick to interject, “You’re just a human with feelings.

Soonyoung walks up with a bottle of water in hand. “You always carry shit that’s not even your fault. You think the people who care about you won’t do anything about it, but we’ve always got your back.”

You took the bottle with shaking hands, pressing it to your lips as you downed at least half of it to distract yourself from the way your throat tightened as you’re reminded about how your cousin and childhood friend always got your back.

“Even if you shut down or disappear for a bit, we’re still going to show up.”

“You don’t need to explain everything right now,” Soonyoung adds. “Just let us stay the night and keep you company. You’re not alone, yea? You have us!”

For the first time in days, you felt relieved.

You nodded.

Without uttering another word, Jihoon reached over and tucked you into his side while Soonyoung reached for your remote, selecting a random movie like tonight was any other movie night.

Soonyoung cooked you a bowl of ramen, laying out the fried chicken and kimbap he had brought over onto the coffee table; even promising he won’t judge if you cried into it again.

Jihoon sat next to the furniture, poking through your neglected phone to clear the notifications that’s been piling up from the days you hadn’t touched it.

You slurped a bite in silence before speaking.

“He confessed.”

Soonyoung blinked, pausing his movements of taking a piece of kimbap. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon smacks his shoulder, “No, you idiot.”

“Mingyu,” you clarified, staring down at the bowl of ramen soup in your hands. “He… He came up to me at the party and said he liked me.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped, the kimbap half-chewed in his mouth and Jihoon had to shut it for him.

“He said… He said he saw Wonwoo kiss my forehead that night. Said he knew it meant something because Wonwoo doesn’t just… do things like that. Not with anyone and… Mingyu said there has to be something going on between us.”

Jihoon’s brows lifted just a little, “What did you say?”

“I… I didn’t say anything. I just left.”

Soonyoung winced, “Yikes. Must’ve hit him hard.”

You shrugged as Jihoon took the bowl of soup away from you. “I dunno… Wonwoo… Wonwoo came to talk to me before Mingyu confessed. He…” Your voice dropped, “He asked if the rumours were true…”

“The one Haemin started?” Jihoon asked slowly.

You nodded again. “I… Someone from that group must’ve talked to him and it definitely messed with his head. He wasn’t like… I don’t know, extremely mad about it, just… He just looked like he didn’t know who he was looking at anymore. Was he looking at the real me or a front I put up?”

Soonyoung reaches out a hand to hold yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He didn’t believe them, right?”

“I think part of him didn’t want to believe it. Or… he was scared that it could be true. That I was a manipulator, a –”

“You aren’t.” Jihoon’s voice was stern. “That bitch twisted things. That’s a manipulator, ___. You? You’ve always been honest. Haemin is always bitter when people are doing better than her so she’ll always find ways to tear them down. That’s her game.”

“She always shuts you down whenever you mention a new gig, telling you to stop rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I didn’t want to say anything back then because she was your friend, but it always pisses me off.”

You notice the way his jaw clenched, fingers curling into a fist on his lap. “You were proud. You should’ve been – it was one hell of an achievement for you. And this bitch made you feel like you were bragging just for existing.”

“Yea, like, I know how much you value those around you, and that’s a good trait of yours. But Haemin is always putting you down because she thinks she’s better than you. You were excited about something good happening in your life, that’s human – not annoying. She just couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.”

A silence settled for a moment. It was heavy, but not hopeless.

Jihoon’s gaze softened when he looked over. “You’ve been second-guessing yourself all this while because of her. And now she’s got him second-guessing you, too.”

“It’s not your problem if she doesn't like people seeing you shine,” Soonyoung adds. “That’s hers.”

You didn’t really plan what else to do once you got here – in front of Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment.

Sure, you planned to finally talk to them, but you hadn’t planned the rest. Your heart hammered against your chest like it was trying to crawl out. Your hands were covered by your sleeves, fingers twisting the fabric in a nervous rhythm as a grounding method.

Where the hell do you even begin?

Do you apologise for dropping off the grid? Acknowledge Mingyu’s confession?

Or do you explain yourself to Wonwoo?

The silence stretched in the doorway and you swore it was somehow louder than last week’s party.

You stared at the doorbell like it might explode if you touched it.

Just press it. Say something. Breathe.

Ding-Dong.

Silence.

One second. Two. Three–

Nope nope nope.

You went into full-blown panic.

You can’t do this.

You look like you haven’t slept in a week. You hadn’t even planned what to say.

What if they hated you? What if Wonwoo regretted ever holding any affection towards you? What if Mingyu had changed his mind? What if–

Your feet moved before your brain could reason otherwise. You spun on your heel, fully intent on getting the hell out of there before the door could open. Maybe they could pretend it was a mistake. Wrong floor. Wrong unit. A ghost.

You were probably two steps away from the door when–

“Were you seriously going to ding-dong-ditch us?”

You froze.

Mingyu’s voice sounded half amused, half exasperated.

You turned around slowly, cheeks flushed when you found them both at the doorway.

Mingyu had one hand on the doorframe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Wonwoo leaned casually against the other side, arms folded and his lips pressed in a faint line.

You gave the weakest shrug known to mankind. “I… I was testing the doorbell..?”

Mingyu blinks. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You disappeared for a week,” Wonwoo adds, his voice low but not angry. “And your comeback strategy was ding-dong-run? Really, Princess?”

The pet name caused your breath to hitch.

“I… I panicked…” you muttered.

Mingyu snorts, “Clearly.”

He steps aside, “Come on in before you sprint back to whatever blanket cave Jihoon said you’ve been rotting in the past week.”

You step closer, chewing on your bottom lip. “Are… you mad?”

“Mad?” Wonwoo responded in a way that you’ve just asked the most ridiculous question. “We were worried, ___. That’s not the same thing.”

The living room felt warmer than the last time you were here. Not in temperature, but it felt like the air carried more weight to it. You sat on the couch, legs pressed together, hands locked in your lap. The fabric of your sleeves are twisted between your fingers, Mingyu sat across you on the floor, back resting against the coffee table.

Wonwoo sat next to you on the couch. There’s some distance between you, but it was to test the waters whether you’d allow him back into your personal space; his elbows resting on his knees.

The silence was thick, but it wasn’t hostile.

Just… there.

You shifted again, pulling your sleeves over your knuckles.

“So… Where do you wanna start?”

You tried to speak. Failed. Tried Again.

“I… I…”

Wonwoo scoots closer, one hand reaching out to give your thigh a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Princess. Take your time.”

Mingyu nods, giving you a faint, reassuring smile. “We’re not gonna poof into thin air, y’know?”

You nodded.

You took a breath.

Then another.

And finally:

“Haemin tried to break up a couple back in Pre-U.”

Mingyu blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Back in Pre-U, there was this guy called Hyungwon and she kept flirting with him despite knowing that he was taken. And when I told her that was a low move, even for her, she got pissed. Said I had no right to judge her when I’d done the same, if not worse. Which I hadn’t.”

Your voice trembled as you continued, “So she twisted the story. Said I was the one trying to break them up. That I told her I could have anyone I wanted because I was a model and guys would drop their girlfriends for me.”

Mingyu’s jaw dropped slightly, stunned into silence while his brows creased like he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or furious. You barely notice the moment when Wonwoo shifts, only realising how close he’d gotten when his fingers gently curled around your wrist and tugged you closer.

You don’t resist.

The streamer maneuvered to sit across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms steadily wrapped around your body, grounding you as your pulse pounded in your ears. You don’t know if it was the warmth of his body or the way they listened to you explain your story. Regardless, your chest felt lighter and you continued.

“She used the fact that people were starting to pay attention to me, and everyone believed her because she said it with a smile. Nobody bothered to ask for my side. They just stopped texting. Stopped talking. They whispered every time I walked into the room.”

The words linger in the air, but your chest felt… lighter. Like you’d finally let something out that’s been weighing you down for years.

Mingyu hasn’t moved, his eyes locked on your form while trying to decipher every emotion on your face; like he was trying to figure out if he could somehow carry the hurt for you. Wonwoo’s arms stayed wrapped around you, it wasn’t tight but it was steady.

Mingyu finally spoke, his voice hoarse and eyebrows pulled together. “Nobody should’ve made you feel like that. Least of all people who were supposed to be your friends.”

“I just… I thought if I just stayed quiet long enough, maybe… maybe it’d all go away.”

“You don’t need to stay quiet anymore.” Wonwoo’s voice was low as he tilted your chin so you’d look at him. “You’ve been carrying all this by yourself. I didn’t make it any better by questioning you.”

Your breath hitches when your eyes meet. “It’s okay, Wonu… You were just trying to understand…”

He raises a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck,” Mingyu muttered, catching your attention. “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I… I can’t believe I confessed to you when you clearly weren’t in the headspace. I-I just–”

Wonwoo’s arms loosened slightly, not pulling away but to make room so you could adjust yourself. You turned to Mingyu, “It’s okay, Gyu. You… You don’t have to take it back.”

He looks surprised by your words.

You swallowed, “I… I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared… I feel something for both of you. That… That’s terrifying to me because–”

“You think it isn’t for us?” Mingyu cuts in.

Wonwoo shoots the model a look and he’s quick to shut up, muttering a quiet apology. “It’s just… This is way too fucking insane, even more me. Literally two dudes sitting in the same room with a girl they’ve both fallen in love with and figuring things out.”

Wonwoo’s voice was low and careful when he added, “We also don’t expect you to choose.”

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” you whispered, looking up at Wonwoo before your gaze drifts to Mingyu.

“Well,” Wonwoo says with a shrug that was way too casual. “Polygamy is a thing.”

You and Mingyu blink, caught completely off guard by his words. “What?”

The elder’s gaze doesn’t waver, mouth twitching at the corners like he knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m just saying. I’m into her. You’re into her. Clearly she’s overwhelmed by the idea of choosing when the idea of losing either of us will wreck her. ”

Mingyu stared at him, “Hyung, you’re not ser–”

“I am. You know I don’t joke about the things I want, Gyu.” He tilts his head, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder with you still nestled on his lap. “Like I said, polygamy exists. When done right – with proper communication, consent, and nobody being left in the dark; it’s possible.”

The room was filled with tension, but it wasn’t demanding. You looked between them both, “Is this… Is this something you two want?”

“I’d rather share than walk away, ___.” Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, sucking in a sharp breath when you let out a whimper.

Mingyu lets out a breath. “Same here…”

You swallowed, “And… And if you asked me what I want..?”

The streamer hums while the model leaned forward, both asking in unison, “What do you want, Princess?”

Your answer was quiet.

“I want you both…”

tiger couz 🐯: yo tiger couz 🐯: new job offer alert tiger couz 🐯: ok technically not a job offer prettay couz 🎀: wassup tiger couz 🐯: rmb that Dior couple campaign from a year ago? tiger couz 🐯: the one you did with Gyu? prettay couz 🎀: yea prettay couz 🎀: what abt it? tiger couz 🐯: they wanna do some kind of appreciation dinner for everyone involved prettay couz 🎀: a dinner? prettay couz 🎀: why a year after it tho? prettay couz 🎀: seems kinda prettay couz 🎀: idk, off-timing? tiger couz 🐯: the success rlly impressed them tiger couz 🐯: and their investors tiger couz 🐯: hence dinner tiger couz 🐯: we’ll talk deets once jihoon gets back from that Open Mic

“Good girl,” Wonwoo praises, his voice a calm purr as he takes your phone out of your trembling hand. “Good job in replying to your cousin properly while Gyu eats your pretty pussy.”

You’re seated on his lap, back pressed tight against chest, his clothed cock hard beneath you. HIs free arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady while Mingyu keeps his tongue buried in your soaked cunt. His large hands kept your thighs spread while groaning like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s allowed to eat.

Your head lolls back onto Wonwoo’s shoulder, lips parted in a loud moan as Mingyu sucks your clit harshly. Your thighs twitch in response, hips bucking forward, but Wonwoo holds you still. “W-Wait..! Hngh!”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so sensitive here, Princess. Has nobody ever eaten you out?”

You shake your head, voice barely audible over the wet sounds between your legs. “N-No.. Hngh!”

The streamer chuckles low against your ear, hands sliding underneath your sweater to teasingly pinch your nipples. “Poor thing,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Mingyu’s good at eating pussy. He’ll take care of you.”

Mingyu lets out a growl, hands digging into your thighs as he tongue fucks you deeper, nose bumping against your clit. The lewd sounds of him eating you out fill the room, wet and messy; mixed with your whimpers and the quiet rasp of Wonwoo’s breath against your ear.

You feel more arousal drip out your pussy when he tugs on your nipples. “Hear that, Princess? That’s the sound of a pretty pussy being eaten well.” Then, he gives your clit a spank, causing you to yelp and arch in surprise, the sudden sting sparking through the heat bubbling in your core.

“Better cum soon, ___. Gyu’s not stopping until he’s had enough, and I’m not letting you go until you soak his face.”

Wonwoo turns your face towards his, fingers tilting your chin up. “You’re doing so good for us,” he murmurs, eyes dark and hooded. “Let me kiss you, Princess.”

You can barely manage a nod before his lips are on yours – hot, slow… His tongue slides against yours, stealing your breath as he swallows every needy noise you make. The kiss quickly deepens, getting messier and dizzying.

Mingyu groans between your legs, the sight of you moaning into Wonwoo’s mouth has his cock throbbing in his jeans. He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it in tight circles, causing you to break from the kiss and your hips twitching.

“G-Gyu! Hngh!”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum all over his face.”

Your body obeys, thighs closing in around Mingyu’s head as your orgasm crashes into you. A loud cry rips from your throat, swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips as he kisses you through your climax.

Mingyu continues to lap at your pussy, even when your body’s still trembling from the aftershocks. If anything, he gets hungrier – like he could die in between your thighs and still beg for more. His tongue stays locked on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you jolt – sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt, curling right against your g-spot.

“G-Gyu,” you whimper, trying to squirm away from the relentless pressure.

But, you can’t move.

Wonwoo wraps an arm around you like a cage, while the other slides up. His fingers brush along your throat before tightening with just enough pressure that makes your breath catch.

“Stay still,” Wonwoo orders, his breath warm against your cheek. “Let him play with your pretty pussy a bit longer.”

You gasp, eyes fluttering open to meet his. That’s when you see it.

There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a wicked grin at your reaction. He notices the way your thighs clamp tighter, how your head tilts back.

“Oh?” Fuck, he sounds so hot. “You like that, Princess?”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t deny it. You’ve always known Wonwoo was the dominant type – maybe it’s the way he carries himself, but what you didn’t know was that he’s kinky too.

And God help you, you’re so into it.

Mingyu groans against your pussy, clearly enjoying both your reactions. He scissors his fingers inside you, bullying your g-spot in a way that has your back arching and breath stuttering. His tongue flicks over your clit in tight, rhythmic strokes, matching the pace of his fingers thrusting into you.

“Wo-Wonu,” you gasp, voice breaking. “I… I’m gonna..!”

Wonwoo tightens the grip he has on your throat, angling your face to look up at him again. “Yea? Gonna cum over his tongue while Gyu eats your sweet cunt? Go on then. Show him just how good he’s making you feel.”

And your body obeys.

Your walls clenched violently around Mingyu’s fingers while your entire body tenses. Letting out a loud cry, liquid gushes out from your pussy, spraying over his face and chin.

That doesn’t stop him, though.

He’s absolutely pussydrunk. His tongue greedily laps through your release like it’s the only thing he’d drink up. His fingers don’t falter either, working you through every tremor and drawing out your high until your legs shake and your moans turn into helpless whimpers.

Wonwoo leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth, hand still snug around your throat. “Such a good girl… Now, the real fun begins.”

Very gently, he guides you off his lap. You’re still trying to catch your breath but you let him maneuver you onto all fours, the cold air hitting your pussy and you could feel how sticky your thighs were – soaked from squirting thanks to Mingyu’s tongue.

You don’t have enough time to balance yourself because you feel the cushions dip in front of you, Wonwoo having one hand wrapped around the base of his long cock. It was thick and the tip was flushed red, already leaking pre-cum from watching you get pleasured by Mingyu earlier.

“Open up for me,” he instructs, tapping the tip against your lips.

You do as you’re told and he slides in slowly, head thrown back as he lets out a low groan at the way your warm mouth wraps around him. “Fuck, yeah,” he breaths, tangling one hand in your hair and starts to guide you lower. “Let me see how much of this dick you can take.”

Your lips stretch around his girth, eyes fluttering shut as the weight of his dick lays on your tongue. He starts to shallowly thrust, letting you adjust before going deeper.

“Shit, Princess,” he groans, hips rolling forward as he watches your cheeks hollow around him. “Look so fucking hot with mouth full of my cock, pussy still dripping… S’like you were made for this.”

Behind you, Mingyu trails kisses along your spine, his hands roaming your body, thumbs digging into the softness of your flesh. You feel him line his cock up against your soaked folds, tip nudging at your entrance.

“Squirted all over my face and you're still this wet for me?" he teases, dragging the leaking cockhead through folds, giving your sensitive clit a few taps. “Think you can fit my whole cock in, Princess?”

You whine around Wonwoo’s cock and the elder just smirks, “Oh, don’t whine like that. We know you can take it. You’re our good girl, aren’t you?”

Mingyu slowly pushes in, grunting at how your walls clenches and unclenches rhythmically around his length. Your thighs quiver, mouth still full of Wonwoo’s cock, and your eyes tear up as you try to breathe through it.

“Fuuuuck,” the model behind you groans, bottoming out inside your heat. “So fucking tight.”

The streamer above you lets out a dark laugh, shallowly thrusting into your mouth again. “Yeah? Never had a cock as big as Gyu’s inside your little pussy, Princess?”

No, you haven’t.

The burn of the stretch has your toes curling, but it fades into pleasure once Mingyu starts thrusting. The pace he sets is deep and hard, making your hips rock back into him instinctively to feel more of the pleasure. Your mouth goes slack around Wonwoo’s cock for a moment and he notices.

He moves his free hand to cup your face, “You alright, Kitten?”

“S-Shit,” Mingyu stutters. “She just got tighter.”

You managed a muffled moan, nodding as your tongue presses against the underside of his cock.

Then, he begins to move in sync with Mingyu – thrusting forward just as the model pulls back. You can tell they’ve done this multiple times, not just from the stories they tell, but how they match each other’s pacing.

“Greedy Kitten,” Wonwoo mutters, his eyes glued to your face. “Taking two cocks at once. What would the media say when they find out, hm? That their pretty little Dior Princess is nothing but a cock hungry whore.”

You choke on a moan, the pleasure coiling in your belly hot and fast.

Mingyu tightens his grip on your hips, snapping his against yours in a rougher pace. “Shit, she’s trembling. Gonna cum again, Princess?”

You sob around Wonwoo’s cock, tears sliding down your cheeks as you try to hold yourself up between them. Every thrust rocks your body forward – Wonwoo fucking your throat slow and deep, Mingyu rutting into your soaked pussy like he never wants to pull out.

Mingyu’s calloused hand slides around your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs and finding your swollen clit. Your entire body jolts like a live wire when he starts to rub it in tight circles.

“Mmh!” your voice is muffled around Wonwoo’s cock, hips bucking back against Mingyu’s. “Fuck, you’re twitching,” he pants, still rutting into your soaked cunt while his fingers work your clit relentlessly.

Wonwoo grunts, fisting your hair gently so he could pull back just enough to let you breathe, eyes focused on the flushed, glassy-eyed face. “Go on, Princess,” he coaxes, voice thick with arousal. “Cum for us. Let us see just how much you love it when we wreck you.”

Your body seizes as you’re pushed to the edge, the orgasm crashing into you harder than the previous ones. Your cries are muffled by Wonwoo’s cock, spit glistening on your lips as your vision blur and your cunt clenches violently around Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu’s hips stutter as the way you clamp down around him, more slick gushing down your thighs. “Holy fuck– Shit, you’re milking me so good, Kitten.” The lewd squelching of his dick pistoning in and out of your dripping pussy echoes through the room. His fingers never leave your clit – if anything, he presses against it harder and rubs faster.

Wonwoo’s pace quickens too, hips snapping into your mouth with more urgency. You hollow your cheeks, moaning around his thick length, the vibrations pushing him closer to his own climax. He tightens the grip he has on your hair, “Just like that. Sweet mouth of yours is gonna make me cum down this pretty throat soon.”

A few more thrusts and the streamers spills his hot cum down your throat with a strained groan. His release floods over your tongue, thick and hot; and you try your best to swallow it all. “God damn,” he pants, pulling back slowly to watch the way a string of cum and saliva cling to your lips. “That’s the best fucking head I ever got.”

Before you could respond, Mingyu slams his cock deep into your pussy with a loud roar of your name, hot spurts of cum filling your needy hole to the brim and leaking out around where he’s still buried. Your fourth orgasm tears through you without warning, cunt twitching around his cock as he starts to grind into you.

Mingyu presses his forehead against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in heavy pants. “Fuck… You’ve got the best pussy ever, Princess.”

Your body’s still trembling, barely recovering from the last orgasm when Wonwoo gently shifts your limp form. He slides his hand beneath you to lift and reposition your body with ease. “You did so well, Princess,” he coos, laying you on your back before spreading your legs. His gaze drops to your pussy – dripping with Mingyu’s cum and clenching like you want more. 

You do.

He kneels between your thighs, cock glistening with your spit as he slowly gets hard again.

“Will you let me fuck you, Princess?” he asks. Your breath hitches at his question. After wrecking you just moments ago, he’s still asking you if he has your consent to continue. The tenderness beneath his dominance catches you off guard, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart stutter and just a tad bit hornier.

“Please, Wonu…”

He lets out a guttural moan, rubbing his cockhead against your slick folds, letting it catch on your swollen clit before nudging it down your entrance. The tease alone has you moaning, body trembling with anticipation of being stretched and filled by him.

“My Princess is so polite,” he chuckles, pressing the tip in slowly. “Asking me to fill her needy pussy so sweetly.”

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock while he loses himself in the way your walls flutter around him. “Fuck you’re still so wet,” he chuckles. You mewl, back arching as he sinks deeper into your sensitive cunt until he fully bottoms out. Some of Mingyu’s cum drips out of your stuffed pussy, staining the couch cushions below.

“Messy little thing.”

Your legs weakly, but instinctively wrap themselves around his waist the moment he starts thrusting, mouth falling open in a breathless moan. “Wonu… Feel s’full…”

He groans, hands tightening the grip they had on your hip. “And you… Feel. So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust.

“Can’t wait to creampie this messy cunt, Princess.”

He speeds up, the sound of your sopping pussy growing louder, wetter, filthier with every thrust. You cling to him, grabbing at his shoulders as you feel your orgasm creep up on you again. Your body is overstimulated, but you can’t bring yourself to care – not when two hot men are stuffing you full.

Wonwoo doesn’t warn you that he’s cumming. Instead, he leans into your neck and buries himself to the hilt before warm, thick spurts of cum flood your pussy once again. He stays buried inside you for a few seconds, wanting to keep every drop of his release stuffed inside you. Your walls flutter weakly around his length, body trembling and brain clouded in an overstimulated heat.

But he’s not done.

He pulls away from your neck and straightens his back. You feel his hands roam your body, like he’s trying to ground you – until he presses his palm firmly on your lower belly, right where you feel the thick fullness of him pressing against your womb.

“W-Wonu–!” you gasp, body jolting as the pressure sends a sharp wave of pleasure straight to your core. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, like you were trying to milk more of his delicious cum.

The streamer grins wolfishly, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Does it feel good when I do that?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles on the soft swell of your lower belly before pushing down just enough to feel his cock pressing back up into you. “Can you feel me here, Princess?”

You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body feels like you’re on cloud nine, hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

Beside you, Mingyu groans – one hand wrapped tight around his cock, fisting it hard as Wonwoo toys with your fucked-out body. His eyes are glued to the way your belly bulges from both his and the elder’s cum, how you whimper whenever he presses down.

“Shit,” he breathes, stroking himself faster. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Wonwoo looks over to the model, still stimulating you from your belly, his grin never fading. “You just gonna stand there and jerk off? Put that mouth of hers to work, Gyu.”

You’re still dazed but you listen to Wonwoo, turning your head and parting your lips, tongue flicking out as Mingyu steps closer; cock flushed and slick in his hand. He groans when you take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down further. Meanwhile, Wonwoo doesn’t stop pressing down on your belly, marvelling in the way your body twitches as you choke around the model’s dick.

The sight was sinful as hell.

Pussy stuffed and dripping, your mouth doing its best to give Mingyu a blowjob and the very act of your submission setting every one of his nerves on fire.

“Oh shit,” Wonwoo curses, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Atta girl. Our Kitten is so messy, but still so eager. ”

Your eyes are watery, cheeks flushed as your throat works around his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat with each roll of his hips. One hand is tangled in your hair, setting a rhythm while grunts of approval and pleasure fall from his lips, eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips are wrapped around him.

Wonwoo’s cock is nestled perfectly against your g-spot, your pussy full and warm with both men’s cum. His hand continues to apply a steady pressure over your womb, already growing addicted to the way his cock pushes up just slightly inside you every time he pushes down.

He can’t help but let out a low laugh as he watches your thighs tremble, your hips twitching involuntarily as he continues his ministrations. “Look at her, Gyu. Our Princess is so sensitive. Every time I press here, she squirms.”

Mingyu groans, gaze flicking down to your lower belly. “Such a perfect Princess for us,” he pants, his thrusts growing a little rougher.

Your body jolts again when Wonwoo’s fingers find your overstimulated clit with ease, rubbing it in quick, insistent circles while simultaneously pressing down on your lower belly. Your thighs kick out, hands clutching the cushion beneath you.

“Gonna squirt for us again, Kitten?”

You try to answer, but you can’t – not when your mouth is full of Mingyu’s thick dick. Not that it matters anyway because Wonwoo applies more pressure to your lower belly, rubbing your clit faster.

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. You sob around Mingyu’s cock as a fresh gush of liquid soaks Wonwoo’s thighs and the cushion beneath you. Your body convulses, mouth going slack as your cunt clenches uncontrollably around Wonwoo’s still-hard length.

“F-Fuck–” Wonwoo growls, hips jerking forward at the milking compression of your pussy. The fluttering spasms of your walls trigger his own orgasm, his cock twitching before pumping another load of hot semen into your already stuffed cunt. “Take it, Princess. Fucking taking my cum in your greedy pussy.”

The sight of you squirting and being creamed by Wonwoo was enough to tip Mingyu right over the edge, too. With a low, choked moan, he pushes his cock into your throat one last time and spills his load into your mouth, groaning as the way your throat flexes around his length with every spurt of his release.

Moments later, Mingyu carefully pulls out from your mouth, hand slipping from your hair to cradle your jaw, wiping the mess from your lips with his thumb. “Can’t believe you all of that, Princess…”

Wonwoo stays inside your pussy just a little longer, basking in the aftershocks before he too pulls out, eyes never leaving the sight of his cum leaking out from your fluttering, overstimulated hole.

The room is quiet now, save for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as they both slowly calmed down from their highs. 

You’re still sprawled across the couch, body limp and trembling, the air of the room thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Shit, if you didn’t look sinful before this, you definitely do now – cheeks flushed, lips swollen and thighs slick with cum.

Wonwoo moves first, arms wrapping around your torso to gently pull you into his chest. His hands gliding up your sides in soothing motions, peppering kisses across your face as you melt into him. “You okay, Princess?” he murmurs against your hair, “Hope your body isn’t too sore.”

You let out a broken laugh, “Umm… I might be limping for a few days.”

Mingyu chuckles, returning from the bathroom with a damp towel and kneels between your legs. His hands are careful as he starts to wipe between your thighs, murmuring soft apologies against the skin every time you twitch and flinch.

“You made such a mess,” he says affectionately. “And you look so pretty when you cum, too.”

You hum in response, too hazy to think of a proper answer, but your fingers find his wrist and give it a gentle squeeze. Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and settles beside you and Wonwoo on the couch. The streamer adjusts your sweater to cover your upper body, gently brushing away the sweat-matted hair of your forehead.

“Do you need anything? Water? Some sweets?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself melt further into his arms. Mingyu reaches a hand out and gives your thigh a squeeze, “You were incredible, Kitten. Took everything we gave you.”

“Didn’t know you could squirt like that, too,” Wonwoo adds, smirking against your skin.

“Shut up…” you mumble, cheeks heating up.

They both laugh, low and warm.

Neither of you move for a long while, their soft touches making your heart swell despite the dull ache you feel.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

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💬 anon: anyone else noticing wonwoo n mingyu following the Dior Princess lately?

anon1: omg i thought i was the only one anon1: it’s not even the creepy or friends kind yk anon2: omg is my three-ship finally sailing???? anon3: bro wtf anon3: they’re dating the same girl??? anon3: not to yack their yum but like??? anon2: @anon3 bro it’s 20XX anon2: poly relationships are a thing anon4: real anon4: and if it bothers you then idk anon4: sounds more of a you problem than their problem tbh

Wonwoo wasn’t in a rush.

His next class was across the quad, warm sunlight filtering through the trees as students filed past. He’d been in a good mood, mind trailing back to the way you smiled at him that morning – wearing Mingyu’s hoodie, half-asleep and kissing his jaw like it was second nature.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” someone said behind him.

He stopped.

Turned.

There they were – the same girls from the party weeks ago. The ones that had cornered him and smiled while spouting poison in his face. He recognised the one in the middle – Haemin, and she was smiling far too bright for his liking.

“We heard a rumour,” she said, strolling up and standing next to him like they were friends. “You and Mingyu… dating her..?”

He doesn’t answer.

Another girl giggled. “Didn’t think you’d fall into her trap. Guess she is good at what she does.”

The third girl added, “I know they say psychology students try to fix people, but didn’t think you’d double down on the whole ‘damaged girl’ fantasy.”

“You remember what we told you, right? It’s just that… Well, we thought after what we told you, you migh’ve… y’know, figured out she’s what she seems. She’s a manipulator, Wonwoo. We’d hate to see you and Mingyu get hurt over someone like her.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything, but he watches them – staring at them like he was waiting for them to finish their script.

Haemin leans in, “She always finds her way into guys’ beds. She plays innocent but she’s only ever good at spreading her legs. She’s a model, after all – kinda comes with the package.”

The silence that followed stretched like a taut wire. Wonwoo’s expression didn’t twist, his eyes remained unreadable. Hell, he didn’t even look angry. He took a step forward, the slight shift in his posture made all three girls tense.

“Y’know,” he began, voice low and calm. “I find it funny how loud people get when they think they got away with something, thinking the truth will never get out.”

Haemin’s smiles faltered.

“You may have gotten away with pinning things on ___, but did you really think the consequences of your actions in the past wouldn’t come back to bite you?”

The other girls stiffened.

Wonwoo leans down, just enough to mutter, “What would happen if word got out you were the one that was trying to break up Hyungwon and girlfriend back then?”

Her eyes widened.

“___ was nice enough to not fight back, to let you paint her as the villain. You used her face and her reputation to twist the narrative. And when people believed you, you doubled down. Why? Perhaps it’s because that was easier than admitting you were bitter, petty and jealous.”

“She told you that?” Haemin scoffs, crossing her arms as a means of defense. “God, she has you wrapped around her finger worse than I thought.”

Wonwoo shrugs, “I have no shame in admitting I’m whipped for my Princess. You, on the other hand? You’re so used to controlling the narrative that you forget some people don’t buy into this kind of gossip that should be left in high school.”

His jaw tightened. “You know what sets you and ___ apart? After all these years, not once has she tried to make anyone look bad. Not once has she spoken about you the way you speak about her, and that tells me a lot of who she is as a person.”

They instinctively took a step back as he took another step forward. Wonwoo didn’t raise his voice, didn’t cause a scene, but the air around him was terrifying in a sense that the calmness made people feel unsafe.

“I honestly don’t give a shit about what you think of her, and I sure as hell don’t give a fuck how many people you’ve fooled with the stories you’re spreading. But, I do care when someone insults her. Once again, she’s my girlfriend and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“And if I ever hear you speak of her name like that again, I promise you that you will regret it.”

Haemin looked like she wanted to scoff. Wanted to claim back some control. But the way Wonwoo stared down at her, like his gaze alone could tear her apart, kept her silent. He took one final glance at them and walked away without another word.

When he steps out of the hallway and onto the stone paths, the cool air greets him first – crisp and damp with the scent of earth and moss. Then, his phone buzzed with a message from you.

🎀 princess 👑: i miss you :(

The glow from the TV flickers across the living room, casting shadows over bowls of half-eaten popcorn, a forgotten beer can and the three of you tangled on the couch. You’re sat between the men, legs stretched across Mingyu’s thighs while your head rests against Wonwoo’s shoulders, his fingers idly playing with your hair.

Mingyu’s feet were propped up on the coffee table, occasionally popping popcorn into your mouth while his free hand lazily rested on your shin. A horror movie was playing on the screen, courtesy of Mingyu, who was far too invested in it for someone who claims to hate jump scares.

However, there’s been a question itching at the back of your mind all evening. Mingyu had casually mentioned seeing Wonwoo with them near the main campus earlier that day. At the time, you sort of just hummed and dismissed it, changing the subject; but now, hours later, it still bothered you.

You lifted your head slightly, voice soft. “Wonu?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the movie. “Hm?”

“Gyu said he saw you talking to Haemin earlier.”

The silence that follows cut sharper than the violins on the soundtrack.

Mingyu goes still next to you and Wonwoo shifts beneath you, pausing the movie with a quiet tap of the remote. He turns his head towards you, his expression calm and steady, but his eyes are focused on you.

“Are you mad?” he asks, voice soft.

You sat a bit straighter, “I’m… I’m not mad, promise. I just… I just…”

He hooks two fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hey, hey… Look at me, Princess. They came up to me on my way to class. Said they heard rumours that we’re in a poly relationship, tried to get underneath my skin.”

Your lips stretched into a thin line, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “And… you entertained them?”

He shrugs, “Honestly, I didn’t really care much about what they said. That is, until she said something that crossed the line.”

“What did she say?”

Wonwoo hesitated, his jaw flexing slightly. “She said you always found your way into guys’ beds. That you were only ever good at spreading your legs because you’re a model.”

Mingyu stiffened beside you, “Fuck’s sake…”

Your stomach dropped, the blood in your face drained. “She really said that?”

Wonwoo nodded, “She did. And I snapped.”

You blinked.

“Told her that I knew what she did in Pre-U. Well, at least I pretended to look like I knew what happened. Also told her that if she ever talks about my girlfriend like that again, they’ll regret it.”

The room was quiet again, but it wasn’t the heavy kind this time.

You exhaled, your breath a little shaken. Then you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You didn’t have to do that…” The streamer almost purrs at the feel of your lips against his skin, “I’m not about to let some petty bitches think they have the right to talk down on or to you. Nor am I gonna let them rewrite your worth just because they’re bitter.” 

Mingyu leans over, pecking your cheek. “You’re not alone anymore, ___. You have us, and we’ll defend you through hell and back.”

You chuckle softly, “You two wanna protect me that badly, huh?”

The model snorts, “Obviously. You’re our Princess.”

Wonwoo ruffles your hair, laughing when you swat at his hand. “So let us, yea? End of discussion.”

The three of you relax once again – Mingyu unpausing the movie and Wonwoo shifting close so you’d all be cuddled closer. Fake screams fill the room again, but Gods, your heart felt so safe.

So loved.

taglist !!

@syluslittlecrows @itaewonsquad97 @gyuhao365 @prettypeachprincesz @babycaratdeul @chloe856112 @minhui896

[curseofaphrodite]

The Demons Wear Prada

JINU X FEM!READER

; where Jinu is already jealous of your boyfriend, but things take a turn when he realizes that he's a demon too.

"All right, 15 more minutes," Abby said, rubbing his hands together. "It's a sold out stadium again!"

It was their third performance that week. Everyone on their team was in awe of how the Saja Boys managed to remain energetic, yet in their defense, they were all human. Jinu assumed walking for more than three miles might be tiring for them.

"Our songs are working," Jinu smiled, hands on his hips like a proud father.

"So is my abs, I'd like to say."

Jinu scoffed, while others rolled their eyes. Mystery was about to make a comment on the embarrassing affair of their costume coordinator having to purposefully pick out small shirts, just so Abby could burst the buttons on stage and look hot, when the costume coordinator herself came sprinting their way.

"GUYS! THE HAT!" You yelled, pointing at Jinu's and Romance's heads. "You're wearing each other's!"

Jinu's heart did a little jump at the sight of you. You were all dressed up in a midnight blue halter top and glittering black skirt, and your hair was done up in a bun. Big silver hoops dangled from your ears, and he was taking in all of it while Romance exchanged the hats.

"Good," you sighed, your breathing getting more even.

"Did you run?" Mystery asked, a bit concerned.

Jinu still found it strange that the Saja Boys' first human friend was their costume coordinator, but it made sense, didn't it? All that time in dress fittings and shopping, Y/N had made her mark on all of them. You were funny, kind, but firm — just what the job required. Jinu was grateful that you had taken the job at all, especially since you were still in college and hardly had time to juggle everything.

Hiring real professionals required money, something Saja Boys did not have in the beginning. Now, famous and rich after a week of stardom, they could hire anyone in the world, but all they did was give more to your paycheck.

Jinu was still staring and had completely missed out on an entire portion of your conversation with Mystery and Abby. Once the boys were off to check on their mics — something Jinu had done earlier — he found himself suspect to your sole attention.

"Good luck with the show," you grinned. "Try not to sweat too much on my costumes this time."

"I'm sorry, but are you coming back from a party? Why're you extra dressed up?" Jinu asked, hoping he didn't sound too rude.

"Extra? I think I look fine for a concert."

"You look beautiful, that's not the point," Jinu said, immediately blushing from head to toe. "Uh— I mean—"

"Y/N! There you are!" A guy in a black turtleneck and leather jacket came running to your your side, his hands casually sliding over your waist. Jinu blinked in surprise. "The security wouldn't let me in! They thought I was some crazy Saja Boys fan. Can you imagine?"

Jinu glared at where his hands was, then fixed his face just in time for your hurried introduction.

"Well, this is one of the band members. Meet Jinu. Jinu, this is my boyfriend, Dean."

They shook hands, though one looked more reluctant than the other.

"Ah, your date is our concert?" Jinu asked, fake smiling. "I'm honored."

"OH no, we were out shopping all day for her Winter Dance next week. Your concert was just a job stop before dinner," Dean laughed. You hit the side of his stomach with your elbow.

"Job stop?" Jinu asked, confused. "You're not staying for our show? But you always do."

"He's not a fan of pop music," you explained, glaring at your boyfriend.

"I love pop, and I love that she loves this job! But these costumes are... something," Dean looked up and down at Jinu, who felt himself getting angrier by the second. "I'm surprised you let her dress you up in pink."

"Excuse me?" Jinu scoffed.

"No, no! I didn't mean to offend you!" Dean said quickly, especially since the glare on your face only seemed to have intensified. "I just meant, if it were up to me, I would have gone for more... masculine colors."

"Did you find this guy behind the dumpster just so you could have a date for the Winter Dance?" Jinu asked, finally snapping. "If you just asked, I could've ringed up prisoners nicer than him."

Your eyes went wide.

"What did you just say?" Dean glared, stepping forward.

"JINU! Show starts in ten!" The stage manager appeared beside him, grabbing his hands before he could reply. He could feel the anger surging through his veins, but he was being pushed away by more people.

The stupid turtleneck and his stupid laugh.

He turned around one last time, fully intending to give his absolute death stare, but he gasped in surprise. Dean was leaning down to whisper something in your ear, and under his ear — just for a second, his patterns were clearly visible.

A demon.

Before he could do anything, he was on the stage.

-

It was routine for the boys to see the fans after every performance. A few photographs, autographs, and smiles went a long way — as did Abby's flirtatious smiles.

Jinu had his hands full right after the show, but his mind was wandering. Something told him he had to find you right away.

He looked at the ever-growing crowd.

"We love Jinu!!!"

"SAJA BOYS FOREVERR!!"

Jinu tried to go back, but it was impossible. With just one option in his mind, he closed his eyes.

The lead singer of Saja Boys went up in a puff of dark purple smoke, and the fans went wild for the "special effects."

-

The backstage was almost cleared out. The last of the workers were tired and going home, so most of them didn't even notice Jinu bursting into the scene like a fire was about to break out.

"Y/N?" He yelled, as if you would magically appear in front of him. When he heard no response, he frantically started asking anyone he saw if they had seen you or a tall, turtleneck-ed man who did not have a security pass. None could say anything helpful, and he got frustrated by the second.

"I think Y/N might have went already," a girl said, who was the fifth person Jinu was questioning. "I saw her in the loo earlier. She didn't look so great."

Fear crept into his heart, or where his heart was supposed to be. Was I too late?

"And the guy, I've definitely seen him in the green room like, five minutes ago. I remember because I was thinking to myself what he was doing there so late."

Jinu didn't need to hear the rest. He was running yet again, without even asking which one of the green rooms she was talking about. He didn't need to. If Dean were a demon, he'd make himself known.

-

"NO!"

In the dimly lit room, Jinu's scream seemed to echo off the walls. At the other end, Dean slowly turned around, a grin so wide that Jinu immediately recognized as hunger fulfilled.

A girl lay on the floor, unconscious.

"You killed her." The sentence came off his mouth in utter disbelief. There was no anger, just plain surprise. He felt like the universe took him by his legs and shook him till there was no life left.

"Would you have preferred the first bite?" Dean asked, his eyes glowing bright.

Jinu snapped.

He moved forward with claws out and patterns visible, but Dean only had to wave his hand for Jinu to fall back and hit the hard, cold floor.

"It takes a lot more than that to fight me," Dean whispered, still smiling. "I was known for being Gwi-Ma's favorite a thousand years ago."

Jinu charged again, if only because he didn't know what else to do. He had to take out his immediate grief and anger, and he didn't want a second to himself just to process that you might actually be dead. Jinu was in denial, but he was also just as angry. He knew there was no point in approaching the body, because she was clearly not breathing.

Dean wasn't prepared well this time. Jinu slammed his body so hard that he hit the ground, and arched his claws across the demon's chest. Dean cried out, but before Jinu could harm him in any real way again — Dean disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"NO!" Jinu yelled, staring at the empty ground. Motherfucking demons!

Without anyone to take his anger out to, he went straight to the body, tears freely spilling out. He wondered why it hurt so much, and he hated himself for thinking he might have been the cause of the deaths of many Y/Ns, as well as many Jinus with their heart broken. He pulled the body closer, brushing the hair away from your face.

Only it wasn't you.

The hair was similar to yours, but it was another girl — someone who was unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He felt nauseated to realize the amount of relief he felt; that the girl he was clutching wasn't his to grieve over. He was still crying, this time his thoughts more complex than the last.

He leaned down and whispered a prayer over the dead girl, then like every victim of demons, her body disintegrated to nothingness. He was staring at the floor for the second time that night, hating everything in him that wasn't a human.

He wondered what a normal person would do in his situation, and then he did exactly that — he took out his phone and dialled your number.

-

"You're alive," Jinu smiled, wrapping you in a hug. You laughed, a sound that almost made him feel like a human man in love, and he reminded himself to act a little less conspicuous.

For all you knew, Jinu had called you and asked where you were, and if you could meet up in the park you were currently standing in.

"Of course I'm alive! Now what's going on?"

"Were you halfway to your home?" Jinu asked, knowing he didn't care if you were tucked in bed when he called. He had to see you in flesh, had to make sure you were okay.

"No, I was having pizza one street down," you shrugged, sitting down at the nearby bench. He followed suit. You looked shaken, so he hesitated before his next words.

"What happened with Dean?"

"Why do you—"

"I saw him backstage. You weren't with him, and something felt wrong."

You stared at him with your eyes wide open. Jinu felt nervous, like you could see right through the facade and just how much he loved you. He was scared you'd call him out on it or laugh at his face.

"Was he with her?" You asked instead.

"Who?"

"He's cheating on me," you said quietly. "It's stupid. We've only been dating for a week or two, and he's already cheating on me. I see him sneaking around with girls, and I got so sick of it."

Cheating? Oh!

"He wasn't cheating on you," Jinu said, tilting his head. He had to choose his words carefully. "But he was a right jerk, I can tell you that."

"You don't have to cheer me up, Jinu. I know he was cheating." You knotted your hands together, sounding defeated. "Unless you know something I don't."

"Would you believe me if I said he's a demon sucking souls of the girls he was sneaking away with?"

You laughed softly.

"Thought so." He smiled a little himself. "I'm glad you're not with him all the same."

You met his eyes. "You are?"

Jinu cleared his throat. "Well, I don't want you to be demon food, you know? Or for you to be uhm, cheated on, yeah."

"Oh, right."

Jinu wondered if he was only imagining the disappointment in your voice.

"Y/N," Jinu said reluctantly. "I know he's a demon because I am too. Would you believe that?"

You blinked.

"I'm a demon sent by my lord to form a boy band so I could steal my fans' souls." Jinu said, serious as ever.

You laughed, this time louder. Jinu felt himself going red as he saw you clutching your stomach from the laughter.

"I'm not lying!"

"And I'm the devil! My horns are detachable and I've a secret soft spot for unicorns!"

"Stop laughing!"

"Jinuuu," you said playfully, noticing he looked a bit hurt now. You hooked your hands around his elbow, smiling at his adorable pout. "You're not a demon. No matter what bedtime story you tell yourself."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"I think you're lovely," you corrected, and this time he felt himself going red for more reasons than one. You went on before he could make any comment on it. "Good riddance for Dean though. He was rude about my work, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I almost punched him in the face."

"Please don't make me laugh again."

"Hey! I'm not weak!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're strong and a demon and you punch people with your manicured fists. I know." You downright giggled. "Shame about the Winter Dance though. Now I've no partner and a pretty dress alone at home."

Jinu felt a cold breeze against his face. He felt like he was pushing luck just by your hands over his. Should he really risk more?

"Uhm, I'm sure," he cleared his throat. "You'll find someone."

"Yeah," you said pointedly. "Soon, I hope."

"Soon!" Jinu promised. He could ask you right then, but he had to tie up some loose ends.

He had to get rid of Gwi-Ma, make the band members turn human, and most important of all — he had to pluck up the courage to ask out the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

He couldn't wait to wake up that brave.

For now, both of you sat content and watched the city fall asleep.

-

the end

-

Ty for reading my first jinu fic!

if you guys want to commission anything, read this! I also have a kofi pinned on my profile if you'd like to support me :)

[issybee06]

Can i request about General Kregg? There are only like 2 or 3 writings about him and he needs more attention, maybe a writing where reader gives birth to triplets in her first pregnancy and how the other Viltrumites react, I know they would keep an eye on reader (especially Conquest and Thragg) knowing that a general (who doesn't have as much power as them) has triplets, I know Thragg would be wanting to have reader as one of his, I don't know, concubines? To see if he can have triplets too. Imagine being a human who was taken against your will to bear children but given to a general and on your FIRST (because yes, this will not be your only) pregnancy you give birth to triplets and suddenly everyone sees you differently (you can choose, no problem) because there have literally been no twin pregnancies or multiple pregnancies and now you are simply seen as a divine being and you go down in the history books of these people who took you against your will and now treat you with little respect.

Saving Grace

AHHHHHH THIS IS PERFECT!

Omg I love Kregg he's so silly I wish he was more appreciated but his time will come! Trust🙏

I hope you like!

Omgomgomg yesssssss

……………….……………….……………….……………….…………

You were among many women brought to the Viltrumite ship to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, sold like cattle to be bred with. You weren't presented to be special, to be desired, you were put in a line with women your age and picked and prodded at until someone wanted you.

The Viltrumite just so happened to be the General Kregg, right hand of the Grand Regent.

He was…okay.

He didn't treat you or his other mates unkindly, drowning all of you in gifts and enough food to feed a small planet. He was away most of the time, leaving the wives to run the house.

He ran the house on a schedule, giving separate time to each wife. An afternoon there, a night here, an event coming and going.

He didn't flaunt you all off, he found that embarrassing. Many Viltrumite men had grown accustomed to “showing” their wives off, stripping them into barely-there clothes and having them show up at events like that.

Kregg had once scoffed at a display, hand on your lower back as he spoke lowly.

“Be lucky I'm not cruel enough to embarrass you all like that.”

He wasn't the most loving, but he wasn't unkind, he was just…rough.

He took you a total of 3 times before it stuck, and when the announcement was made he was neutral faced.

He nodded, hands clasped behind him, “good.”

And left.

When the pregnancies began…it was obvious that yours was different.

You were sick more often, laying in you room for days while the other women worried and fussed over you.

It was when you began growing larger then the others, stomach round and stretching your skin, was when Kregg brought you to see a doctor.

The doctor had actually fainted when the three heartbeats appeared on the screen, shocked that a human of all creatures could produce 3 Viltrumite children.

Kregg gripped your hand, it was the first time he actually showed any emotion, his good eye wide and fixed on the three blobs on the screen.

“Three…”

After the news, he shifted.

He grew to be…warmer to you. He dismissed time with the other wives, slept in your room, made more time out of his day for you.

He was extremely protective now, wouldn’t let anyone touch you now. He’d threaten servants, glare at doctors, actually snapped a guards neck for speaking to you.

He was everywhere now, you were never alone.

It wasn’t too bad, he wasn’t the worst company.

It was when the news spread was it difficult…

The announcement of your triplets spread like wildfire. Kregg didn’t say a word of your condition, wanting to keep your blessing a secret for now but the doctor had told a nurse, a nurse told her friend and so on and so on until it went all the way to the big top.

Thragg had come to Kreggs living quarters after the birth, eyes narrowed at the triplets.

Two boys and a girl, all perfect specimens of Viltrumite genetics. They were already showing promise, moving around and gripping and humming toys. 

You were exhausted, the labor had taken two days, but sat awake with Kregg as he stood stiffly. He didn’t look at Thragg, eyes on his children.

“…we hope our children will grow to serve the Empire, sire…” Kregg spoke, swallowing and his grip on your shoulder tighten slightly.

Thragg hummed, dark eyes turned to you now and you tensed under his gaze.

“…Kregg…you will be relieved of you wife, she will come with me.”

Kregg stepped slightly ahead of you, eye dark, “…sir…you can’t be serious…”

Thragg stood fully, height menacing, “are you…denying my order, General?”

Kregg swallowed, “…no sir.”

You exhaled shakily, expecting him to give you up just like that. You didn’t love him, no, but you’d rather be with Kregg than Thragg…

“I will relinquish all my other wives…just let me keep her.”

That surprised you, wide eyes staring at Kregg as he stood his ground, “…I have grown to care for her…I don’t think I could live without her.”

Thragg glared, “I don’t need more wives, just the one who can birth three healthy and strong Viltrumite children-“

“Sire…I have never asked for anything…I ask for this…For her…I need her to breath-“

Thrash silenced him, irritated by his Generals blabbing.

Thragg could kill him, take you, breed you and be content…

But killing Kregg, his best fighter and greatest General, for a human wife that he couldn’t be 100% would birth triplets again…he couldn’t wager with that.

“If she birth triplets again…I’ll be back for her. Keep your pet for now then.”



Love pathetic little meow meow men ugh cream

[pruneunfair]

Tropes in manhwa are awful yet people still defend them

I'm in a bad mood right now so what better way to release all that pent up anger by ranting on what can ruin a good story.

1: Slavery being inserted only for cheap plot and slaves being demonized as obsessive/greedy monsters for "not knowing their place"

Theres nothing wrong with wanting to insert slavery in your story AS LONG as it's not just cheap plot to make your MC look "better" by buying from a single to all of the slaves because let me tell you this: there is no such thing as a good slave owner, you cannot morally own another human being. A lot of manhwa like to have slavery be a part of their plot completely ignoring that just because the MC goes "wow this is terrible" doesn't make them a good person after they buy a slave.

Remarried empress does this with its villian Rashta by pushing the notion that she's being greedy for not wanting to stay in poverty so Navier won't suffer because apparently a slave wanting what the silver spoon mouthed nobles were born into is so terrible not to mention they justify slave owners and slavery in general as a punishment for criminals (neglecting the fact that children can be sold by their parents)

The villainess has fun again justifies a child slave being bought by the lead and he becomes an obsessive shouta love interest, fans continously justify by using the ancient lolicon excuse "he may look young but he's actually 99182823 years old!"

In divorcing my tyrant husband, Robelia buys 30 slaves and the only 2 that consistently show up have no other personality other then "we love you FL we will worship you till the end of time!"

There's a damn manhwa out there literally called the order of slave breeding and even when a story tries to do this correctly such as VADTD with Penelope being portrayed as a bad person for what she did to Eckles, fans have been so deluded by the idea that FL's buying slaves is "girlboss" that they think Eckles should be grateful to be Penelopes "pet"

2: ML's murdering innocent people after one guy hurts the FL

I already made a specific post about it before and I'll say it again: all this does is make your male lead/father figure look like a horrific monster. While you could say it's because its a medieval kingdom (objectively that is true that they would do this) manhwa and OI is the same place where despite in those times taking a mistress was considered normal they still view it as cheating and "how could you pick that slut when you have such a perfect wife!? 🤬" in most stories. So yes, modern morality is still inserted within these tropes. While I can get it's a way to show that the man in questions loves the FL so much he's willing to go to such lengths to protect her I think just mutilating the guy that actually did the sin would be enough because try imagining yourself as a faithful servant who was amazing at your job getting brutally slaughtered by the Emperor because your boss attacked his daughter or lover.

Into the light once again does this with Aishas dad murdering all the relatives and close friends of a count that tried to kill Ysis and Aisha, Aisha doesn't seem to care despite being in a situation where she was wrongfully executed in her past life.

Remarried empress does this too. After Navier is nearly killed by Krista's brother, Heinrey tortures and kills the dad and slaughters the servants of the zemensias. I can't remember if he also murdered the remaining family members but I wouldn't put it past him.

3: protagonist centered morality

Protagonist centered morality is the biggest indicator that a piece of media is dealing with a mary sue FL. Whatever the protagonist says is right is immediately morally correct. This is actually used to justify the last 2 examples with "it was for the FL!" Things like slavery, murder, workplace abuse, union busting, pedophilia, and being a POS to your loved ones are all justified if the protagonist finds a cheap way to justify it and you HAVE to agree with her because her backstory is very tragic 🥺. Protagonist centered morality also ruins the chance for good characters since the FL herself never has to grow as a person so she stays the same exact thing as she was just with more enablers and random characters will be treated as villains even if they aren't actually wrong about being suspicious of the Protagonist or calling out her behavior. It twists the narrative in such incomprehensible ways that you don't even know what your reading anymore. I can't even list all of the manhwas that do this given how many there actually are so I'll just list some that are at least self aware there Protagonist is awful/morally grey or isn't even a bad person but they still have flaws that can be pointed out

Villains are destined to die

My in laws are obsessed with me

Not sew wicked step mom

Depths of malice

The villainess turns the hourglass

Beware of the villainess.

4: villains being dumbed down to make the lead look smarter

This is unfortunately another common staple often used as a quick way to make the FL look smart and witty but is that really hard to look smarter when everyone else around you is an idiot? Not only does the FL not have to put in actual effort to best her enemies but you just start to pity the villain for basically being a punching bag. Dimwitted villains aren't always bad in fact they can be some of those most entertaining characters no matter much they lose but that only works when they are meant to be seen as a goofy character that your not supposed to take seriously. Villains that are written as extremely childish and stupid but your still supposed to treat them as serious antagonists on the other hand are just annoying since you wonder how the protagonist even got killed by them in the first life if they're so stupid.

Isabella de Mare while admitly having a good reason for being dumbed down (she's a teenager in the 2nd life so it's reasonable she wouldnt be as smart as her adult counterpart) is still a joke of a villainess who keeps flipping back and fourth from a snot nosed whiny brat to a mastermind only at convenient opportunities when the plot needs conflict.

Mielle from the villainess turns the hourglass was first portrayed as extremely conniving as she arranged for Arias downfall in the shadows but in the second life she fails at every scheme she has even though she has Emma and Isis to help her out.

Ragibach is a literal demon possessing the body of another woman with the goal of setting demons loose on the word to start another human vs demon war and she succeeded in that the first time, the devastation was all there so clearly she has to be a formidable antagonist right? Well no, she's another case of being dumbed down further and further so Keira can succeed and while they do understand some plot holes such as Ludwig not trusting her as much in the second life it doesn't change the drastic character change from evil genius to bumbling idiot.

In short: dumbing down your villains so your lead can look smarter is essentially going to give the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb vs a coughing baby.

5: feminine women being demonized as basic "other girls" sluts

Okay this one isn't nearly as terrible as the others on this list because we all love the good old "a demon makes itself look beautiful to deceive humans" kind of villain, in fact as you probably know by me by now, white lotuses are my favorite kinds of character and even in media outside of manhwa I always find myself drawn to angelic villains but it seems like this is less of that and more of "Oh those are all the other girls who just want a man to save them, look at how much better my badass rich boss babe is for working for herself while taking all of their men at the time 😎" in manhwa. As soon as a traditionally feminine girl shows up, comments are already calling her a two faced bitch and half the time protagonist is already skeptical of her. This is the opposite of what being a feminist really is, a real feminist wouldn't be putting down other women just because they dress with more pink with bows and skirts and while I do think for most manhwa this is unintentional I do wish that we could have more characters like Psyche, Helena, Athy, and Jennette that prove that being overly feminine doesn't make you a backpedal on feminism. This doesn't make the badass or sexy fl's bad either, it just means they can co-exist.

An angelic villain should be treated as evil for being a well calculated schemer, not because they have a light colored color scheme

6: toxic relationships being romanticized as good

You know for a large community that claims to be about girl code a good chunk sure likes to look the other way when it comes to toxic relationships as long as the abuser is "hot" and theres always the terrible excuse such as "he has trauma!" Or "he doesn't know how to show his love normally!" No just no we aren't doing that here. Cry or better yet beg has this problem with not only the narrative claiming that Matthias graping Layla is okay because she actually loves him and doesn't know it but a large part of the fanbase also defends it, the same goes with try begging, a manhwa written by Solche who also wrote cry or better yet beg and once again despite Leon being an abuser everyone's ready to justify his actions because he's just a soft little boy who ends up falling in love with Grace awww 😍 (what the hell?) Everyones all about not justifying abusers because they had a sad past until it's the "sexy" male leads with daddy issues.

7: maid slapping

This shit isn't asserting your dominance as a boss bitch it's just work place abuse. This trope has gotten so out of hand of being justified by narratives and readers that there is an entire webtoon called this isekai maid is forming a union that's all about criticizing twisted manhwa tropes that get brushed off with maid absuer being at the biggest one. It's funny because a lot of people complain that Isekai maid union villainizes the nobles too much but they never ask the same questions when a OI is demonizing maids as greedy and lazy in order to deserve a beating. This doesn't just stop at hands either it can escalate to threats of mutilation just to assert dominice which is absolutely sick. Most of the time these leads used to be office workers or terminally ill patients, they know how terrible it is to be treated like garbage by their superiors yet they continue to absue every maid who isn't getting on their knees for them. Most maids in real history would not mistreat a noble even if they were the most hated in the house and even if they did they'd be fired without a letter of recommendation so why can't the FL's just fire the rude maid if they care about dignity so much because I'm pretty sure getting violent with a maid isn't very dignified either.

8: disgusting age gaps

Very similar to #6 but in this case while the ML/FL isn't a cruel monster to their partner it doesn't change the fact that grooming and pedophilia is still a crime worthy of life in prison. You'd think "oh no way, this can't be justified can it?" You'd be wrong. Now I belong to house of Castillo thankfully has a larger fanbase of people who think that a relationship between a girl who got groomed by her knight is bad but in cases like into the light once again a lot of people like to say "Well Aisha is technically 28 so it's fine!" When it really isn't since Aisha is still mentally 14. Taming my ex husbands mad dog is another one that does this with Reinhardt grooming a 16 year old boy and its apparently meant to be "cute".

9: claiming a character as unattractive yet giving them a perfect body and appreance

I just think this is a major cop-out since there's time where they want to make a realistic story yet also wanting a fantasy fufilment. I don't think its a coincidence that the only woman in tears of a withered flower that yout supposed to support is a Victoria's secret model body type. Even though she's meant to be an overworked exhausted 33 year old woman being mocked for losing her beauty she sure as hell isn't drawn that way, the only other women around hae soo are all women with smaller boob's and in general more common body types that are either classed as stupid or jealous that Hae soo is so beautiful that all the attractive men want her

how about we don't pit all the women against each other for once? And let's especially not villainize other women because their jealous they could never be have large boob's and tiny arms+waist at the same time?

10: the commoner protagonist actually being a noble rich person all along

Look I know most of us had loved those "the hated child is the lost princess" GLMM but we need to drop it because it's kinda disappointing that the nobody who had to work their way to the top is actually a secret magical princess who had royal blood in them all along. While I did think the villainess turns the hourglass was a pretty decent read I was super disappointed finding out that Aria was of noble descent all along. I liked seeing a commoner protagonist for once and it really felt like it was critiquing the idea that all commoners and poor people who want nice things like the nobility are greedy animals. Something similar can also happen with certain saintess manhwas that decide to twist itself into "the villainess was the true saintess all along!" And I'm just sitting here thinking "well there goes the hope that you didn't need the super duper rare power to be a strong character"

I feel way better now after writing all this.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 5

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Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.

From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?

Fuck.

—

Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.

He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.

What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.

“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”

“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”

“If you liked me less?”

“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.

“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”

“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”

“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”

Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”

“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”

Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”

“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”

“Cheese fountain?”

“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”

Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.

He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”

“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.

“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -

“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.

“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.

“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.

“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.

The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.

Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.

It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.

—

Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.

Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.

He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.

He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.

—

Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”

Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.

Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.

But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.

Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.

All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.

Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.

“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.

He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”

Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.

Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.

The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.

Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.

When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.

Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”

They did.

Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.

[sheep-from-rad]

How would the batfamily react if they found out that the singer/influencer reader was dating one of the villains?, imagine the reader has friends with benefits from the villains

(What kind of jokes do you like?)

Batman is so scary, even bullets are afraid to hit him. That's why they aimed for his parents. (sorry)

anon 🦌

Note: 🦌anon please send more jokes. After the Solmare announcement regarding the Obey me series, I am one push away from drinking every wine in my fridge.I’m gonna need more jokes (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) I don't give permission to have my fics posted to other sites, copied, or fed to AI. Thank you.

Masterlist 

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive and @strangergraphics. Please do support them ♡

You heard that? That’s the collective sign of every Batfamily member sighing in disappointment and collective glare towards Bruce. Like father like child, of all genes to be inherit you inherited his taste (ಠ_ಠ). Getting entangled with a villain is not something new in the Batfamily because they are either related to one (Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian) or romantically involved with one (Bruce with Talia, Poison Ivy, Catwoman and sometimes Harley. Dick with Catwoman II. And Jason with… you know what let’s not talk about Talia and Jason. That one is weird on all levels). 

If you’re romantically involved with someone who does not know Batman’s real identity then it’s not much of a problem. The family is just going to visit said enemy and scar them for the rest of their mortal life. It will be so bad they will just quit being a villain and leave Gotham all together. If you’re romantically involved with someone who knows Batman’s real identity, then it will be a chaotic event. Bruce is already fighting villains and now he’s fighting his blood pressure too. 

Riddler would be so smug about it. He would rub it in every Batfamily member’s face and would constantly drop your name in fights like ‘How would they react if you hurt me?’ or ‘Oh they will be mad if I come back bruised!’. Riddler would be so insufferable like the madman he is. If you’re dating Harvey Dent, you’re technically dating two persons (in most media depictions, Harvey is the same age as Bruce so let’s go with that one). His incorruptible part is basically filling every space that Bruce neglected to fill. He’ll teach you about legals and laws, tell you stories about their days and he protects you from those who dare to come close. His corrupted part, Two face, is kind of mean. He will never miss the chance to remind you of the potential parental issues you have. 

Headcanon that Harley will make it her mini mission to keep you away from Joker because let’s face it, Joker will not love you. He will only use you and break you like how he did to Harley. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter if the relationship you have is good or bad. To the family it’s a parasite that needs to be terminated immediately before it grows. You’re grounded. You’re not allowed to go out alone. If you don’t live in the estate anymore, you will just randomly find your apartment sold to someone else and you’ll be taken back to the estate. No metahumans in Gotham rule but Damian already has the permission from Bruce to have the Titans stay for a while as reinforcements. Even Jason is patrolling more and everyday now he will make a report to the estate. 

During those days they were full on babying you to the point of infantilization. They’ll give you ‘the talk’ especially if you’re in a friends with benefits relationship with a villain and sometimes they’ll go so far into showing you every other person they had been with. They are not above poisoning the relationship too. They’ll show you expertly doctored photos showing their ‘infidelity’. Guilt trip you into reading old cases and gaslight you. You’re not in love with them, you were just manipulated into thinking that you are. 

But of course, what is a Wayne if not stubborn? Month of being grounded and being in heavy watch and you’re done. You already have their shifts memorized down to who checks on you at night. After hours once you’re certain that everyone is now asleep or busy on their patrols (or finished checking your room), you start acting out the plan of running away. You passed each security detail without triggering them, passed every room without alerting anyone, and passed Titus without waking him up. However before you can even reached the doorknob, you heard Dick and Jason behind you:

“Looks like someone took lessons from Catwoman” 

“You know we saw your lover today. We were going to let them go but I guess no one’s picking you up anymore” 

The next time you wake up, you are greeted by the fresh warm breeze and the sound of water hitting the shore. As you descended down the stairs, news about a villain going missing was on the headlines along with the date on the screen saying ‘Thursday’. It has been three days since you got caught by Jason and Dick and Tim just entered the door carrying take outs from Mad Yak cafe. You’re in Happy Harbor, far away from Gotham and your lover is missing. Was the no kill rule violated? You can only pray it’s not.