#that their music is not as good as it was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chosok-amo · 23 hours ago

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I F☆CK HATE EMO BOYS s. geto & k. choso

☆ sum. you hate emo boys, you hate how they pretend to be all dark and mysterious, you also hate how they wear nothing but black. there are two emo boys in your class and they seem to notice the hate inside your body— if they d☆ck you down sooo good, are still going to hate emo boys?

warning. college au, dōuble-penetration, manhandling, ōral ( m receiving ), fingēring, semi-public space, anāl, unprotected sēx, geto is annoying,

you hate emo boys.

you sit cross-legged on the floor of the cramped music room, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glare daggers at the two so-called emo boys sitting on the stage with you. it’s your final project for the semester, and of course, you got stuck with them—choso and geto. you’re already mentally drained by their whole “dark and brooding” shtick, and the fact that they’re in the same art and music major only ensures you’re forced to endure it day after day.

choso is hunched over his electric guitar, strumming out a tune that sounds suspiciously similar to every other broody song he’s ever played. his face is painted with that classic distant, “nobody gets me” expression that makes you want to roll your eyes so far back they might get stuck. meanwhile, geto, who is supposed to be helping with the composition, is lounging on the stage like he owns the place, cigarette dangling from his lips, blowing smoke rings as if he’s above it all.

your patience is wearing thin.

“you know,” you say, voice laced with sarcasm, “sitting around and looking like a dark cloud doesn’t exactly count as helping.”

geto tilts his head, smirking as he blows another lazy ring of smoke, seemingly unfazed by your irritation. his long black hair falls in messy strands around his face, half-tied up in some kind of “effortlessly cool” way that, unfortunately, does suit him. but god, it’s infuriating. the urge to yank that stupid ponytail and force him to actually do something is almost unbearable.

“i am helping,” he drawls, voice dripping with boredom as he stretches out, reclining back on his elbows. “just by being here, i’m setting the mood.”

choso stifles a laugh, not even bothering to hide his amusement at your irritation. you shoot him a glare that could freeze fire, and he just shrugs, clearly used to geto’s antics. “yeah,” choso chimes in, plucking a single, somber note, “besides, nobody asked you to be here either.”

“unfortunately, the professor did,” you mutter under your breath. you’re practically boiling with annoyance, fists clenching. “and we’re supposed to be collaborating, not indulging in whatever dark poet wannabe persona you’re both putting on.”

geto smirks wider, taking another drag of his cigarette as he looks you up and down. “oh, you mean you don’t appreciate my brooding, enigmatic aura? i’m just trying to channel my inner tortured artist,” he responds with mock sincerity. “we’re not all about sunshine and rainbows like you, princess. some of us have a deeper connection to music.”

choso is still snickering as he strums out another note, the two emo boys clearly enjoying your irritation. choso meets geto’s eye with a playful look, as though they’re both in on some secret joke, but you can’t decipher the silent communication between them. he grins, clearly enjoying how easy it is to rile you up. “yeah, it’s not our fault you have the musical taste of a high school pep rally.” his comment earns a snort from geto, who chuckles under his breath.

you scoff, rolling your eyes so dramatically that it’s a miracle they don’t roll right out of your head. their mocking expressions, geto’s cigarette-smoke smile, and choso’s silent snickers grate on you, pushing every button they seem to know so well.

“oh, please,” you say, voice thick with sarcasm as you fling your pen, first at geto and then at choso. it clatters harmlessly beside them, but the message is clear. “i have a deep connection with music too, you know.” your eyes lock onto geto’s, a challenge blazing in your gaze. “just because i don’t act like i’ve lived through a hundred lifetimes of despair doesn’t mean i can’t understand depth.”

geto’s smirk doesn’t falter; if anything, it grows. he leans back, tilting his head slightly, the cigarette dangling between his fingers as he studies you with feigned curiosity. “is that so?” he drawls, looking entirely unconvinced.

you ignore him, turning to choso, who’s still grinning like he’s just heard the best joke of his life. “and by the way, my music taste is nothing like a high school pep rally. just because i don’t sit around and strum sad songs doesn’t mean i don’t know good music when i hear it.”

choso chuckles, shrugging one shoulder as he casually strums another lazy chord on his guitar. “right. suuuure, princess,” he says, the endearment clearly meant to rile you up more.

you take a breath, hands curling into fists at your sides. “if anyone here is all talk, it’s the two of you. maybe if you actually spent half as much time doing the work instead of pretending to be these misunderstood, tragic geniuses, we’d actually finish this project.”

geto and choso share another amused look, enjoying how easily they can get under your skin. geto takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke as he smirks at your fiery response. “cute speech,” he drawls, his voice dripping with condescension. “but forgive me if i don’t quite believe it. you think you understand depth just because you listen to some shallow pop songs and think they’re deep?”

choso chuckles again, clearly enjoying the spectacle, and continues to idly play his guitar with his signature smirk.

geto lets out a low chuckle, leaning forward with an exaggerated sigh. he leans back on one elbow, cigarette balanced between his fingers. “you’ve got us all figured out, don’t you? we’re just two dark, brooding souls living tragically deep, tortured lives. and you’re just… what? some bright ray of sunshine, here to bring us out of our musical abyss?”

choso chuckles again, still plucking at his guitar as he shares another amused glance with geto. “yeah, how lucky we are. our very own little guardian angel, here to save us from our emo ways,” he responds, clearly finding the situation amusing.

geto nods, taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air. he studies you intently, his gaze almost calculating as he watches for your reaction. “your enthusiasm is endearing,” he smirks, “but let’s not pretend that you’re anything more than a naive, hopelessly optimistic girl in a class full of brooding, misunderstood artists.”

you glare at geto, feeling the heat of frustration bubbling beneath your skin as his smirk widens with every word he says. the sight of him leaning back, exhaling another plume of smoke as if he owns the world and everyone in it, makes your blood boil. that condescending drawl, that cocky look—god, you hate emo boys.

without thinking, you reach down, grab his bag, and hurl it straight at him. it smacks him square in the chest, and he blinks in surprise, momentarily caught off guard as he catches it before it hits the ground.

“you’re an asshole, suguru,” you snap, voice sharp as you stand up, glaring at both of them. “i hate you and your stupid, tortured artist act. enjoy your ‘depth’ without me.” you turn to leave, gripping your things, determined to escape this room filled with cigarette smoke and smug grins.

geto rolls his eyes, his smirk never faltering as he watches you storm toward the door, clearly amused by your outburst. with a sigh, he stands up, taking his time before following you to the door. “don’t be sooo thin-skinned, sunshine,” he drawls, reaching out to catch your hand, which is already on the doorknob.

you yank your hand back, but he’s faster, his grip firm as he gently pulls your hand away from the door. and before you even realize what’s happening, he twists the lock, the soft click filling the air.

you narrow your eyes at him, frustration flaring again as he stands behind you, his presence way too close. he still has that damn smirk, looking down at you with a mix of challenge and amusement. his hands move to rest on your upper arms, a touch that’s surprisingly gentle but keeps you in place. you tense under his grip, but he’s already nudging you backward, guiding you away from the door, back toward the center of the room where choso is still sitting, half-watching the scene unfold as he idly strums his guitar.

“you know,” geto murmurs, that hint of laughter still in his tone, “maybe you’re taking all of this a bit too personally. it’s not like we don’t appreciate your presence or anything.” he’s leaning in, close enough that his words are more of a soft murmur against your ear.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “oh, sure. you just like having me here to entertain you with my ‘shallow’ music taste, right?”

geto chuckles, his breath ghosting over your ear in a way that sends a slight shiver down your spine. but you push the feeling away, refusing to let his subtle touch affect you. “hmm, something like that,” he replies, his voice a low murmur. “and your little temper tantrums are so cute.”

you slowly turning your head over your shoulder to give him a glare that could melt steel. the audacity. you arch an eyebrow, letting out a huff. “you’re a dog, you know that, right?”

but geto’s smirk only deepens, clearly unfazed. he leans in, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “woof woof,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with a mock sultriness that sends a shiver down your spine despite yourself. he’s so close that you can almost feel his smile in that smug tone, knowing full well the effect he’s having on you.

you clench your jaw, trying to ignore the strange flutter that rises in your chest. why did he have to turn everything into a game, a challenge that he somehow always managed to win? your fingers tighten around your things, grounding yourself as you try to shake off the flush threatening to rise to your cheeks.

“ugh, seriously?” you mutter, yanking yourself out of his grasp as you step away, putting some much-needed space between you. “can you be any more insufferable?”

geto just chuckles, taking pleasure in your reaction. he’s clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse, loving every moment of your frustration. and as you try to step away, his hand snatches the back of your shirt, yanking you back toward him, preventing your escape. he pulls you closer with a fluid motion, bringing you within inches of his smug face.

he leans in, his voice is low and laced with that same hint of mockery. “i can actually be significantly worse. i’m just holding back, princess. you should be grateful.”

choso snickers from his spot on the stage, watching the spectacle with a knowing smirk. he’s seen this song and dance between you and geto countless times, and yet he never gets tired of it. after all, the sight of you and geto at each other’s throats is always a thrilling one.

geto takes a minu step closer, closing the distance between you two. his grip tightens on the back of your shirt, keeping you in place. “so, what are you going to do now, sunshine? keep huffing and puffing, or are you going to give in?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “maybe i should start carrying a spray bottle for you two,” you snap back, though the playful edge in your voice betrays your amusement.

choso laughs outright, a sharp bark of laughter, while geto chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “oh, a spray bottle? how original, princess,” geto teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “go ahead. i could use a good misting.” he takes another step closer, the heat of his body nearly close enough to touch yours. his grip on your shirt is still firm, but you can feel his fingers tracing small circles on the fabric, a subtle display of possessiveness.

choso chuckles as he strums out another chord on his guitar. “yeah, we’re not kittens you can just spray with water,” he remarks. “but we might respond to treats.” you roll your eyes, scoffing at choso’s words. “as if i’d give you two anything resembling a treat. you don’t do anything that deserves one,” you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm.

geto smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction, and inches even closer, closing the already narrow space between you two. you can feel the fabric of his shirt brushing against your hands, which you’ve instinctively placed on his chest to push him back, but he doesn’t seem inclined to give you the space you need. instead, he just leans in further, his gaze unwavering and challenging as his fingers continue to lightly trace along the hem of your shirt, a subtle, infuriating reminder that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

choso’s smirk deepens as he lifts his hand, extending his middle and ring fingers in a subtle, teasing wiggle that makes your cheeks burn instantly. “oh, i can do plenty that deserves a treat,” he murmurs, his voice carrying just the right mix of mischief and challenge, the playful gleam in his eyes only adding to his boldness.

your face flushes as you glare at him, momentarily stunned by his audacity. “pervert,” you snap, rolling your eyes in an attempt to cover up the blush creeping up your face. geto chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction, and leans even closer, his breath warm against your skin as he adds, “oh, i think we hit a nerve there, didn’t we, sunshine?”

you turn your glare back at him, trying to shake off the heat that’s already spreading across your face. “maybe if you two idiots put half as much effort into this project as you do into annoying me, we’d actually be done by now.”

geto snickers, unfazed by your insults. “oh sweetheart, where would the fun be in that?” he retorts, his voice dripping with mockery. “and honestly, annoying you might be more enjoyable than your whole music taste.”

choso chuckles from his spot on the stage, clearly enjoying the back and forth as he idly strums out a lazy chord on his guitar. “come on, admit it. you love the attention,” he teases with a knowing smirk. “how else would we keep you from fleeing the room?”

geto’s eyes glint with a devilish spark as he draws out the word, “but…” letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you tense up in anticipation. before you can even fully register his intentions, he wraps an arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off your feet, his strength catching you off guard. instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to steady yourself, a surprised gasp escaping your lips.

“if you’re so eager for us to work on this project,” he murmurs, that familiar teasing tone laced with something deeper, “then i suppose we should oblige you.”

choso watches with a smirk, setting his guitar aside and leaning back on his hands, clearly entertained. he shifts slightly as geto carries you over to him, his gaze lazily tracing the scene as though it’s all some amusing game.

before you know it, geto lays you down, your head coming to rest on choso’s thigh, his fingers instantly playing with a strand of your hair while he looks down at you with a knowing grin. geto settles between your legs, his eyes alight with mischief as he leans closer, his weight pressing against you just enough to pin you there.

your eyes widen, heart pounding as you squirm, trying to push him away and hit his shoulder. “suguru, get off!” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended, but he only chuckles, entirely unfazed.

geto’s smirk only widens, clearly enjoying your flustered attempt to escape. as you try to push him away, he effortlessly catches your wrists, pinning them above your head, his body still pressed against yours, effectively trapping you.

he leans in, his breath hot against you as he speaks, his voice a low, amused murmur. “easy, princess. we’re just working on the project, remember?” choso chuckles from above, his fingers still idly toying with your hair as he looks down at you, clearly enjoying this moment. “yeah, relax. we’re actually going to be productive for once,” he teases, a smirk on his lips.

geto’s grip tightens on your wrists as he shifts his weight, settling himself more comfortably into the space between your legs. he’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of cigarettes and something more distinctly him filling your senses. he leans in closer, his lips hovering just above your ear, his voice a low murmur. “or are you finally starting to enjoy this?”

your cheeks flush a deep red, the warmth spreading down your neck as you try to keep your composure. you look away, biting your lip as you feel your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it almost deafening in your ears. taking a steadying breath, you clear your throat, desperately trying to suppress any hint of nervousness.

“this… this is not the project,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, but you don’t pull away. instead, you muster up the courage to meet geto’s gaze, your eyes locking onto his with a mix of defiance and something else—something you’re not quite ready to name.

geto’s smirk deepens at your whispered protest. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, igniting a shiver down your spine. “sure it is,” he counters, his voice a low rumble, his eyes locked onto yours. “we’re getting acquainted with each other’s�� skills, let’s say. it’s an essential part of the creative process.” choso snickers from above, his fingers still moving lazily through your hair. “yeah, consider it a team-building exercise,” he adds, his voice dripping with amusement.

your gaze locks onto geto’s, the challenge in your eyes unmistakable. you tilt your head slightly, defiant and intrigued all at once, a smirk pulling at your lips. “yeah?” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “and just what kind of skills are we talking about?”

geto’s smirk widens, clearly delighted by your question. he leans even closer, his lips ghosting over yours, almost but not quite touching. “well,” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing murmur that sends a shiver down your spine, “the kind of skills that… require hands-on experience.”

choso chuckles softly above you, his hand in your hair, fingers curling lightly around a strand. “you’re in good hands, don’t worry,” he teases, his tone both playful and reassuring. “we’re professionals, after all.” you roll your eyes at the both of them, your heart racing despite your best efforts to stay composed. “oh? you do?” you mutter, though the way your voice wavers slightly betrays your flustered state.

geto’s smirk turns almost devilish as he notices the slight waver in your voice, feeling your resistance beginning to crumble. he shifts his body, pressing himself even closer against you, his hands still holding your wrists captive above your head.

“oh, we do,” he affirms, a note of confidence edging into his voice. “we’ve got plenty of… relevant experience.” choso chuckles softly, his fingers continuing to toy idly with your hair. “and we’re more than happy to give you a… hands-on demonstration,” he adds, his tone teasing.

a rush of heat floods your cheeks, but you don’t dare look away, meeting geto’s gaze head-on, even with your heart pounding so fiercely that he can feel the pulse beneath his fingers. you swallow, your defiance giving way to something more vulnerable, more curious.

“like what?” you whisper, barely audible, but he catches every word. the smirk on his face shifts, deepening into something darker, a spark of satisfaction flaring in his eyes at your words, the smirk on his face turns almost predatory.

choso’s hand continues to toy idly with your hair, watching the scene unfold. a soft chuckle escapes his lips as he witnesses the undeniable tension between the two of you, clearly enjoying the show.

geto leans in even closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locking onto yours as you speak. “like this.” he moves suddenly, pressing his lips against yours in a firm, possessive kiss, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to make you gasp against his mouth.

the kiss is demanding, almost possessive, like he’s staking his claim on you at that very moment. his tongue brushes lightly over your bottom lip, a silent request for entry, but doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his tongue pushes into your mouth, claiming it.

as geto kisses you, his lips move against yours with a mixture of rough possessiveness and subtle tenderness, the contrast making your head spin. he doesn’t give you any room to pull away, his body still pinning you firmly in place, his hands still holding your wrists captive above your head. it’s dominant, overwhelming, and you find yourself melting into the kiss without even realizing it.

when he eventually breaks away for air, his eyes scan your face, taking note of your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. he smirks, noticing the way you’ve already lost some of your resistance.

you stare up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, struggling to steady your racing heart as you feel the lingering warmth of his lips on yours. your cheeks are flushed, and the remnants of the kiss—soft, glistening traces of shared heat—cling to your lips, a tangible reminder of the closeness that had just taken place.

geto’s smirk only widens as he takes in your expression, clearly pleased with the effect he’s had on you. he shifts, letting one of his hands trail down, grazing your cheek in a teasing, feather-light touch. “what’s the matter?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “cat got your tongue?”

you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat, leaving you speechless. all you can do is glare at him, though the intensity is softened by the dazed look in your eyes.

geto’s smirk only deepens at your lack of response, clearly enjoying the power he has over you in that moment. he leans in closer, his hand tracing a path down your neck, his touch light and tantalizing. “tsk, tsk,” he murmurs between chuckles. “no cutting remarks? no snarky comeback?”

he leans down, his lips hovering just above your ear as he murmurs, “or are you just too distracted by my… skills?”

“n-no,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the mess of emotions tumbling around inside you. your gaze flickers from geto’s amused smirk to choso’s lazy, knowing grin, and you quickly lick your lower lip, still tasting the faint remnants of geto’s kiss.

choso leans over you, a sly grin on his lips, clearly amused by how flustered you’ve become. “seems like we’ve finally managed to render her speechless,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement. you swallow, trying to regain even a fraction of your composure, but the feeling of geto’s lips lingering on yours keeps replaying in your mind, muddling every sharp retort you want to throw at him.

“i don’t—” you start, desperately trying to sound defiant, but the slight quiver in your voice gives you away. “i don’t...” the words come out weaker than you intended, and even you can feel the doubt behind them.

you hate emo boys, right?

choso chuckles, clearly amused at your feeble attempt to hold onto your usual defiant attitude. he continues to toy with your hair, his fingers gently twirling strands around them as he leans back against the stage.

geto, on the other hand, takes your attempt as a challenge, his smirk widening into a sly grin. he tightens his grip on your wrists, pinning you even more firmly against his body. “oh, really?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mockery. “you don’t what, princess?”

you frown, finally managing to push geto back just enough to sit up, shaking your wrists free from his hold. “you’re so damn annoying,” you mutter, trying to sound resolute, though your heart is still racing, and your cheeks are still warm.

but before you can even think of standing, choso’s hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you backward with a gentle yet firm pull. you lose your balance, falling back into his lap, your back pressing against his chest as his arms settle around you, keeping you securely in place.

“now, now,” he whispers, his voice low and smooth, right next to your ear, “we haven’t finished with the hands-on learning session.” his fingers trace slow, lazy circles on your arm, and you can feel the rumble of his chuckle against your back.

geto watches with a pleased smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leans back, clearly entertained by the shift in control. “see, princess? you keep acting all tough, but you’re right where we want you,” he teases, folding his arms and tilting his head as he watches you, enjoying every flustered reaction.

your face burns, but despite the urge to throw out a sharp comeback, your mind goes blank with the feeling of choso’s closeness, his steady presence both soothing and entirely overwhelming.

your breath catches as choso’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you even closer against his chest. his touch is gentle yet firm, grounding you in place, and there’s no escaping the warmth of his body pressed against yours. when his chin settles on your shoulder, you can feel the soft scrape of his stubble against your skin, a contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he whispers.

“you keep resisting,” he murmurs, his voice teasing and warm against your ear, “but maybe that’s because we haven’t given you a proper, hands-on demonstration yet.”

his other hand glides over yours, fingers lacing together as he leans in, his breath tickling the sensitive skin along your jawline before running his fingers over your clothed breast, feeling the lace material over your shirt. geto, watching your reaction with that same devilish smirk, steps in closer, his presence filling any space left, his gaze sharp and intense.

with you pinned between the two of them, there’s no escaping their touch or their relentless teasing. choso’s hand, so maddeningly close to bare skin, moves confidently over your shirt, while geto leans in even closer, his smirk growing wider as he takes in the flushed look on your face.

he reaches up, lazily trailing his fingers down your cheek, his touch sending tingles down your spine. “or maybe,” he murmurs, “you’re just not ready to admit how much you’re enjoying this.”

“shut up,“ you mumble, squirming uncomfortably under their combined gazes. your cheeks burn hotter than ever, and it’s hard to focus on anything other than the sensation of choso’s fingers dancing dangerously close and geto’s intoxicating proximity.

you try to pull away, to put some distance between yourself and the two men who seem intent on breaking down your walls, but choso only tighten his hold, making escape nearly impossible. “let me go,” you demand, your voice shaky, but whether from anger or arousal, you’re not sure.

“what fun would that be?” geto retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. his smirk doesn’t falter, and if anything, it grows more pronounced as he watches you struggle in vain against choso’s grip.

choso, meanwhile, seems content to let geto handle most of the verbal sparring, focusing instead on the task at hand. his fingers continue their tortuous path over the fabric of your shirt, tracing the outline of your breasts through the thin material. his touch is light, teasing, but the effect is undeniable.

the room may be empty, but it feels like the walls are closing in, the heat between the three of you nearly palpable. you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your composure as choso’s fingers brush tantalizingly close to your nipples. you bite your lip, a soft whimper escaping your throat as geto’s smirk deepens.

“we should do our project instead... instead of this,” you stammer, trying to muster some semblance of defiance, even though your body betrays you with each passing second. your heart pounds in your chest, your breaths coming quicker as the tension in the room rises.

geto scoffs, rolling his eyes at your suggestion. “who said anything about stopping?” he drawls, shifting slightly in his seat to give himself a better view of your predicament. his dark eyes sparkle with mischief, and his grin widens even further, revealing his white teeth.

choso chuckles softly, leaning in until his lips brush against your ear. “this is a part of our project, no?” he purrs, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. his fingers finally dip beneath your shirt, finding your hardened nipple through your bra and pinching it gently, eliciting a gasp from you.

geto watches, his smirking eyes never leaving yours as choso continues his torment, his own hands moving freely now that you’re effectively trapped between them. with nowhere else to turn, you grit your teeth and glare at geto, even as choso’s fingers continue their wicked exploration. “i swear,” you seethe, “if you don’t stop—”

“and what would you do?” geto interrupts, raising an eyebrow in challenge. he leans in closer, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin as he gets a whiff of your scent. “because i’m not seeing much resistance here.”

before you can come up with a retort, choso’s hand snakes its way around your waist, his thumb brushing against your belly button. he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “relax, princess,” he coos, his voice dropping to a low purr. “it’s just sex.”

you wince as choso’s thumb brushes against your exposed flesh, a shudder running through your body at his words. you clench your fists, biting your lip to keep from moaning aloud. “t-that’s not true!” you protest weakly, though your body tells a different story. your cheeks flush darker, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as the heat between the three of you intensifies. god, you hate emo boys so much!

geto barks out a laugh at your weak protests, shaking his head in amusement. “oh please, spare us the indignation act. we all know you’re loving every second of this.” choso hums in agreement, his fingers trailing lower, dipping teasingly below the waistband of your skirt. “your body is far more honest than your mouth,” he murmurs, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

geto shifts closer, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, forcing you to meet his heated gaze. “why fight it? we both know where this is heading. might as well enjoy the ride, hmm?” his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, a clear invitation. behind you, choso presses closer, the evidence of his arousal evident against your backside as his hands roam your curves possessively.

geto merely laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “denial isn’t a very attractive trait, love,” he teases, reaching out to run a finger along your arm. the sensation sends sparks shooting up your skin, and you can’t help but flinch.

choso grins devilishly, taking advantage of your reaction. he slips his hand lower, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip before dipping beneath the hem of your skirt. his touch is feather-light, teasing, yet filled with promise. his hand slides lower to tease the edge of your panties. his fingers ghost along the delicate fabric, making you jump in surprise. “so tense,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with false sympathy. “let us help you relax. this is a part of the project, we promise. gonna show you how to used your fingers for guitar.”

geto chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement. “that’s right, princess. we’re just giving you a private lesson,” he purrs, his voice low and seductive. “all part of the creative process.” he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “but i think we can teach you something far more... practical.”

choso hums in agreement, his fingers still teasing along the edge of your panties. “indeed. music theory is important, but sometimes...” his hand suddenly cups your mound, applying firm pressure. “...hands-on experience is necessary for real growth.”

geto smirks, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. “what do you say, love? ready to expand your horizons and learn a new instrument?” his other hand trails down your side, fingertips grazing the side of your breast.

whimpers and squirms, you inhale sharply as choso’s hand boldly cups your most intimate area, his touch sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through your body. your hips jerking involuntarily into his touch. a needy whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it, your resolve crumbling under their relentless assault. geto’s fingers in your hair and teasing caress along your breast make it hard to think straight.

“i... i don’t...” you stammer, but your body betrays your true desires. your thighs tremble, pressing together as if seeking friction, and your nipples strain against the confines of your bra, begging for attention. “that— that’s not,” you protest weakly, even as your body betrays you, arching slightly into their touches. your face burns with humiliation and shameful arousal. “expand your horizon, my ass.”

geto’s fingers in your hair send tingles down your spine, and when he grazes the side of your breast, you can’t suppress the shudder that runs through you. “fuck,” you breathe, hating how weak you sound.

despite your feeble objections, you make no real effort to push them away or escape their groping hands. the heat building between your thighs grows harder to ignore with each passing second. geto grins wickedly, clearly reveling in your flustered state and half-hearted resistance.

choso chuckles darkly, his fingers continuing their maddening exploration. he hooks a finger in the side of your panties, tugging them down just slightly. “see? nothing to worry about. just sit back and enjoy the music,” he murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

geto leans in, his lips barely brushing against your ear. “unless you’d prefer to take the lead? show us what those talented fingers of yours can really do?” he suggests, his tone laced with challenge and desire.

choso grins wickedly, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to stroke your slick folds. “my my, someone’s already so wet,” he purrs, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “and here i thought you were resisting.” geto chuckles darkly, his hand tightening slightly in your hair. “resistance is futile, princess. your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is playing catch-up.”

he leans in, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear before he nibbles on the lobe. “what was that about expanding your horizons again, princess?” he taunts, his other hand boldly cupping your breast, kneading the soft flesh. “seems to me like you’re already getting a crash course in advanced techniques.”

he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing any further protests. his tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as choso’s fingers begin to circle your clit with maddeningly light touches.

you moan into the kiss, your lips parting willingly as geto plunders your mouth. your tongue tangles with his, the taste of him both foreign and intoxicating. you find yourself kissing him back with growing fervor, your reservations melting away under the onslaught of sensation.

choso’s fingers work magic on your sensitive bud, circling and teasing until your hips are bucking shamelessly against his hand, chasing more of that delicious friction. wetness coats his digits as he easily glides through your slick folds, stroking along your entrance.

“ahh... fuck...” you gasp as geto breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and dizzy with need. your head falls back against choso’s shoulder, exposing the column of your throat.

geto smirks against your lips, clearly relishing your wanton response. “that’s it, princess. let go,” he encourages huskily, his hand sliding down to join choso’s between your thighs. together, they work in tandem, geto’s fingers joining choso’s to tease and explore your most intimate places.

“feel that?” choso murmurs, his fingers curling inside you, stroking along your inner walls. “this is just like playing a string instrument. you have to be precise, know exactly where to touch...” he demonstrates by finding that special spot deep inside, rubbing firmly. at the same time, geto’s thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub in tight, fast circles.

“mmm, and you’ve got to vary your rhythm,” geto adds, his voice a sinful purr.

behind you, choso takes advantage of your exposed throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. his fingers never cease their ministrations, now two digits sinking knuckle-deep inside your tight heat. he curls them just so, rubbing against that same special spot within you. “how about that, baby?” he murmurs, his voice a sinful rasp against your ear. “this is called the g-spot. it’s the key to creating the most beautiful melodies.”

a loud, shameless moan tears from your throat as choso hits that perfect spot inside you, his fingers curling just right. your back arches, pressing your breasts more fully into geto’s palm as he kneads the soft mounds.

“oh god— thaaat’s— shit!” you keen, your hips rolling shamelessly against their skilled hands. the dual stimulation of choso’s fingers pumping in and out of your dripping cunt and geto’s thumb circling your clit has you seeing stars. your inner muscles flutter and clench around the invading digits, trying to draw them deeper.

geto chuckles darkly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest pressed against your side. “listen to those pretty sounds you’re making,” he purrs, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. “like a symphony of pleasure.”

“indeed,” choso agrees, his own voice thick with lust. “she’s quite the instrument.” he increases the pace of his thrusts, fingers pistoning in and out of your soaked pussy with increasing urgency. “let’s see how high she can sing.”

geto redoubles his efforts as well, his thumb working overtime on your throbbing clit while he tweaks and teases your nipples. “come on, baby girl,” he coaxes, his breath hot against your ear. “give us that sweet release. let the music move you.”

the dual assault proves too much, your climax cresting like a tidal wave. a strangled cry rips from your throat as your body seizes up, back bowing as ecstasy crashes over you. choso and geto continue to work you through it, coaxing out every last tremor and spasm.

your entire world narrows to the intense sensations coursing through your body as you come undone. waves of pleasure radiate outward from your core, leaving you quivering and gasping for air. “ahh! oh fuuuck...” you wail, your voice raw and desperate as your orgasm rips through you. your inner walls clench rhythmically around choso’s plunging fingers, milking them for all they’re worth.

choso grins wickedly, his fingers picking up speed, plunging in and out of your sopping wet cunt. “that’s it, baby. let me hear that sweet music,” he growls, his thumb coming up to rub tight circles on your clit.

through the haze of bliss, you dimly register geto’s triumphant grin against your cheek, his praise and encouragement spurring you onward. even as the aftershocks slowly ebb, choso and geto keep you suspended on that razor’s edge, prolonging your pleasure until you’re a boneless, spent mess in their arms. when the final tremors subside, you collapse against choso, panting heavily.

choso holds you close, his strong arms cradling your trembling form as you struggle to catch your breath. “exquisite,” he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. “a true masterpiece.”

geto, in front of you, watching you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “not bad for a beginner lesson,” he remarks, his gaze roving over your flushed, disheveled state. he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “but we’re far from finished. there are still so many notes left to play, so many melodies yet to compose.” his hand trails down your spine, tracing the curve of your lower back before settling on your hip.

choso chuckles, his fingers still buried inside you, gently stirring your sensitive insides. “let’s see how well our little protégée handles some more...advanced techniques.” he leans in, biting and sucking at your neck, determined to leave marks of possession. his free hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you steady.

without warning, geto captures your lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your desperate moans. behind you, choso scissors his fingers, stretching you wider, preparing you for something bigger. “brace yourself, princess,” geto growls against your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim yours in a ruthless kiss. his other hand snakes around to cup your breast once again, squeezing the soft flesh roughly as he bites down on your bottom lip.

choso continues to work his fingers in and out of your stretched opening, scissoring and curling to hit all the right spots. “ready for the next piece?” he asks, his voice a low, seductive purr. “we’re going to add some strings to really make her sing.”

your mind reels from the overwhelming sensations, struggling to process the torrent of pleasure coursing through your veins. the feeling of being stretched and filled by choso’s fingers is almost unbearable, your body acutely aware of every subtle shift and movement.

geto pulls back from the kiss, his chest heaving with desire. “that’s right, let’s give her a full orchestra,” he agrees, his eyes blazing with hunger. “i’m thinking a nice, thick violin for her ass...”

when geto claims your mouth in a brutal kiss, you melt into it, surrendering to the dominant passion he exudes. his hand on your breast sends jolts of electricity straight to your core, making you ache for more.

you whimper against his lips, lost in the haze of lust. the thought of geto taking you from behind, filling you with his thick cock, has you squirming in anticipation. as if reading your mind, choso withdraws his fingers with a lewd pop, leaving you empty and wanting. he smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

they help you stand, with a shared look of carnal intent, both men begin shedding their clothing, revealing lean, muscular bodies honed from years of intense training. their cocks spring free, hard and proud, already leaking precum in anticipation.

geto lean closer, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly peels away his shirt, exposing his chiseled chest and abs. “time to put that ass of yours to good use, princess,” he purrs, his cock bobbing with each step.

choso follows suit, stripping off his garments with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving your body. “we’re going to fill you up so completely, you won’t know where one of us ends and the other begins,” he promises, his voice dripping with sensual promise. together, they guide you to the couch across the music room before peeling the clothes and skirt off your body.

on the couch, geto grips your hips firmly, guiding you onto his lap so you straddle him facing forward. your bare cunt hovers inches above his rigid cock, the head nudging your slick entrance. choso steps closer, his erection jutting out proudly from his groin, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

“let’s hear that beautiful song again,” choso purrs, reaching down to run his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. he lifts your leg, placing your foot on the armrest beside geto, further exposing your sex to him.

geto’s eyes darken with primal needs as he notches the head of his dick at your entrance. “time to ride this melody, my sweet,” he rasps, his hands gripping your thighs as he starts to push upward, sinking into your heat inch by delicious inch.

a shuddering gasp escapes your lips as geto’s thick cock slowly impales you, stretching your inner walls to accommodate his impressive size. the sensation of being filled so deeply is intoxicating, your body instinctively clenching around him.

“oh shiiit! —fuck!” you manage to stammer, your head falling back on his shoulder in ecstasy as geto bottoms out inside you. the pressure is exquisite, bordering on pain, but you crave more.

choso watches intently, his own cock twitching with anticipation. “look at her take it so beautifully,” he comments, his voice laced with awe and desire. “such a perfect fit.” geto begins to thrust and you start to rock your hips, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

choso’s cockhead brushes against your lips insistently, smearing them with his musky essence. “open wide, princess,” he coaxes, his voice husky with need. “let’s synchronize our movements and create a truly symphonic experience.” without waiting for any response, he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his thick length past your lips. “that’s it, wrap those pretty lips around my cock,” he encourages, one hand tangling in your hair to guide your movements. “let’s see how well you multitask.”

behind you, geto’s thrusts pick up pace, his hips snapping against your ass as he hilts himself fully inside you with each powerful stroke. the dual stimulation of his thick shaft dragging along your inner walls and choso’s hardness prodding your mouth has you dizzy with lust.

“fuuuck, she feels incredible,” geto groans, one hand sliding up your torso to palm your breast roughly. he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure-pain zinging through your nerves.

overwhelmed by the dual assault on your senses, you moan wantonly around choso’s cock, the vibrations adding an extra layer of sensation. your tongue swirls around his thick shaft as you bob your head, taking him deeper into your throat with each pass.

geto’s relentless thrusts are hitting that special spot inside you dead-on, stoking the fire building in your core. the combination of his cock pounding your g-spot and choso’s member filling your mouth has you teetering on the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm.

your nails dig into choso’s thighs as you grind back against him, meeting geto’s thrusts with equal fervor. the obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, mingling with your muffled moans and the creaking of the couch beneath you.

choso grunts in pleasure as your throat constricts around him, your enthusiasm evident in the way you take him so eagerly. “that’s it, just like that,” he praises breathlessly, his grip on your hair tightening as he starts to shallowly fuck your face. “such an obedient little instrument, playing our tune perfectly.”

behind you, geto’s thrusts become erratic, his control slipping as he chases his release. one hand moves from your breast to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

geto leans in close, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he pants hotly against your skin. “listen to those slutty sounds you’re making,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust that has your vision whiting out momentarily. “you are doing a good, sunshine, pretty sure we will get an A+ for this project.”

the dual stimulation proves too much to bear. with a keening cry muffled by choso’s cock, “gonna cum. . . hng! cum—”, your body trembles and quakes as the coil of tension in your lower belly winds tighter and tighter, poised to snap at any moment. geto’s skilled fingers on your clit combined with his relentless thrusts prove too much to bear.

with a strangled cry, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. your inner muscles clamp down on geto’s pistoning shaft, rippling along his length as you come undone. the force of your climax has you seeing stars for the second time, your entire being consumed by white-hot ecstasy.

choso groans deeply, the vibrations rumbling through his chest as he feels your throat flutter around him. “fuck yes, milk my cock just like that,” he demands, his hips stuttering as he nears his own peak.

as your body convulses in the throes of your intense orgasm, geto hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm around him, grinding against your cervix as he rides out your intense orgasm. “shiiit—” he snarls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release.

choso buries himself to the hilt in your throat, his cock pulsing as he reaches his breaking point. with a guttural moan, he starts to unload, thick ropes of cum shooting directly down your gullet. “swallow every drop, princess,” he commands breathlessly, his hips rocking shallowly as he empties himself in your mouth.

geto continues to grind against you, drawing out your climax as long as possible. once choso pulls out, they switch position with now you sit on choso’s lap while geto kneeling on the couch behind you, ass slight in the air and back arched towards choso. “now, now, your ass need an instrument too, no?” he remarks, the tip of his cock kissing the puckered lips of your ass.

choso smirks at geto’s suggestion, his eyes gleaming with mischief and lust. “mm, i like the way you think,” he purrs, reaching around to spread your ass cheeks wider, exposing your tight rosebud to geto’s hungry gaze. “let’s give our little muse here a full symphony, shall we?”

he leans in, trailing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder as his hands roam your curves possessively. “just relax, baby,” choso murmurs against your skin, nipping lightly. “we’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

geto positions himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips possessively. the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against your virgin hole, coated in your mixed fluids. he spits crudely into his palm, using it to slick up his shaft before rubbing the spit-slicked tip around your rim teasingly. “relax, sunshine,“ he murmurs, his thumb massaging small circles on the soft skin of your hips. “let me in nice and easy.”

with a gentle but persistent pressure, geto starts to sink into your tight heat, his girth stretching you deliciously. choso bucks up slightly, his still-harden cock sliding between your cunt as if seeking friction.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” geto groans low in his throat as he slowly sinks deeper into your tight heat, savoring the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls enveloping him inch by delicious inch. “holy shit, you’re like a vice around my cock,” he grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he hilts himself fully inside you with a final, powerful thrust.

choso watches the erotic sight with hooded eyes, his own arousal growing as he feels geto’s cock slide against his through the thin barrier of your pussy wall. he rocks up against you, creating delicious friction. “goddamn, i can feel every twitch of your greedy little holes," he purrs, his voice rough with desire.

a sharp gasp escapes your lips as you feel geto’s thick length slowly sink into your virgin hole, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. the initial burn quickly gives way to intense, toe-curling pleasure as your body adjusts to the new intrusion.

“oh god, oh fuck,” you moan brokenly, your head falling back against choso’s shoulder as he peppers your neck with hot kisses and bites. your hands scrabble for purchase on his muscular arms, nails digging into the firm flesh.

the dual sensation of choso’s hard cock rubbing against your sensitive walls and geto’s thick shaft buried deep in your ass is almost too much to handle. every movement sends shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your oversensitized body.

geto sets a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours as he fucks into your tight heat with increasing intensity. the lewd squelch of lube and your natural lubrication fills the room, mixing with your wanton moans and the creak of the couch beneath you.

choso takes advantage of your distracted state, his hands moving to roughly palm your breasts, tweaking and rolling your nipples between his fingers. he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he grinds up against you harder.

“that’s it, take it just like that,” geto growls, one hand took a fistful of your hair as he pounds into you from behind while the other pushing the hard wall, looking for a balance. the added stimulation has your walls clamping down on both their cocks like a silken fist.

lost in a haze of overwhelming pleasure, your body moves on pure instinct, rocking back to meet geto’s powerful thrusts while grinding down onto choso’s hardness. incoherent moans and pleas spill from your lips, swallowed by choso’s demanding kisses, arms wrapped around his neck.

the intense dual stimulation has your mind short-circuiting, all thoughts dissolving into a sea of blissful sensation. your inner walls ripple and squeeze around the two hard shafts stretching you so deliciously, as if trying to pull them even deeper.

“just— fucking gooood!” you manage to gasp out between kisses, too far gone to care how desperate you sound. “want... want to feel you everywhere...“ your hands clutch at choso’s shoulders, nails raking down his sweat-slicked skin.

choso breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he gazes down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. “look at you, so beautiful when you’re fucked silly, completely lost in pleasure,” he rasps, his voice dripping with seduction. “keep taking what you need, baby girl.” he rolls his hips, grinding his cock against your clit with deliberate intent, sending jolts of electricity through your overstimulated nerves.

geto increases his pace, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room as he slams into your ass with abandon. the couch creaks ominously under the force of his thrusts, but neither of them seems to care about the potential damage.

the combination of geto’s brutal pace and choso’s calculated stimulation pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“fuck, your ass was made for my cock,” geto grunts, his grip on your hip tightening. “so damn tight and perfect.” he leans in close, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “i’m going to fill you up so good, sunshine.”

geto’s words send a shiver down your spine, your entire body tensing as the coil of pleasure within you winds tighter and tighter. choso senses your impending climax, his hands roaming your curves with renewed urgency as he kneads and squeezes, coaxing you higher.

“come on, princess,” choso coaxes, his voice a low, sultry purr. “give us what we want. let go and soak us with your sweet cream.” he nibbles at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing the sting with his tongue. geto’s thrusts become erratic, his control slipping as he chases his own release. “shit, shit, shiiit, i’m close,” he warns, his voice strained with effort.

overwhelmed by the relentless assault on your senses, you teeter precariously on the brink of orgasm, every nerve ending alight with electrifying pleasure. geto’s guttural warnings only heighten your anticipation, knowing that his impending climax will trigger your own.

“please,” you whimper, your voice barely audible over the ragged sounds of your own panting. “want to come... need to...” choso’s skilled touch and the tantalizing drag of his cock against your sensitive clit prove to be the final push, sending you hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. your inner walls clamp down like your life depends around both cocks, milking them for all they’re worth as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you.

geto lets out a hoarse roar as your tight ass squeezes him mercilessly, your spasming walls trigger his own release. his own climax barreling down on him like a freight train. with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his cock pulsating as he unleashes a torrent of hot seed deep inside you, he floods your ass with jet after jet of hot cum. “oh, shit— fuck, naughty girl,” he bellows, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself deep inside you.

choso follows suit moments later, his own orgasm ripping through him with the force of a tidal wave. “’m coming!” he snarls, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grinds against you with desperate urgency. his cock twitches and spurts, painting your insides with his scorching seed.

the three of you collapse together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and heaving chests, the aftermath of your shared climax leaving you boneless and sated.

as the aftershocks of your orgasms fade, geto carefully pulls out of your ass, a small amount of cum leaking out and trailing down your thigh. he smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “well, that was a hell of a private lesson,” he says, giving your plump rear a gentle pat before rising to his feet.

choso, still nestled against you, lazily strokes your side, his touch warm and comforting. “we’ve definitely got a special grade now,” he muses, a note of possessiveness creeping into his tone. geto chuckles, moving to sit beside you both on the couch. “definitely,” he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a tender gesture that belies his earlier roughness.

after everything, reality hits you. you’ve always sworn up and down that you hate emo boys, yet here you are, caught in an intimate moment with the two of them. now, you’re on the other side of the music room, hurriedly putting your clothes back on, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. you refuse to meet their eyes, sulking as you keep your back to them, still stealing a glare over your shoulder every now and then.

geto and choso just exchange an amused look, clearly unbothered by your attempt to distance yourself. they’re still lazily getting dressed, each of them watching you with a smirk, fully aware of the effect they’ve had on you.

geto smirks deepen as he continues watches you from across the room, clearly amused by the icy glares you’re shooting his way. he leans casually sits on the couch armrest— arms crossed, the smug look on his face telling you he’s entirely unbothered by your attempt to ignore them. beside him, choso chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he pulls his shirt back on, clearly sharing in the satisfaction of riling you up.

“oh, come on, princess,” geto drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”

choso grins, tilting his head as he watches you adjust your shirt, still refusing to look at them. “yeah, don’t be such a sore loser,” he teases, his tone light but with that familiar hint of mischief. “you’re the one who kept us in check, remember? it’s not our fault you had fun.”

you shoot them both a final glare, cheeks still hot as you mutter, “i hate emo boys,” as if trying to convince yourself more than them. but they can see through it, both of them chuckling at your attempt to regain control.

geto and choso exchange another amused glance, knowing all too well that your muttered remark was more for your own benefit than theirs. they’re amused by your stubbornness, your desperate attempts to cling to control, even after they’ve seen the flushed look in your eyes, the way your body responds to their touch.

choso tugs his shirt fully on, his eyes roving over you as he takes in your disheveled state. “sure, princess,” he teases, his voice dripping with irony. “we totally believe you.”

geto pushes himself off the armrest, sauntering closer to you with a slow, confident swagger. he comes to a stop in front of you, his smirk widening as he looks down at you in mock sympathy. “oh, you poor thing. you must be so flustered and confused.”

he reaches out, lightly tracing a finger along the edge of your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft but mocking. “it’s normal to have conflicting emotions.”

you slap his hand away, a scowl firmly set on your face. “fuck off,” you snap, voice dripping with annoyance. geto just chuckles, clearly unphased, his smirk only widening as he steps back with that same infuriating calm.

“such hostility,” he teases, mockingly clutching his chest as if wounded. “and here i thought we were bonding.” you roll your eyes and turn your back to him, muttering under your breath about how annoying he is. meanwhile, choso, still lounging nearby, watches with a grin, clearly amused by the banter.

geto’s smirk only grows wider at your scowl and sharp retort. he steps back, arms raised in a gesture of mock surrender, though his eyes are still filled with that same mocking glee. “oh, princess, you really are so spirited.”

he glances over to choso, who’s still watching with undisguised amusement. “you really do know how to pick ‘em,” he mutters, chuckling. choso grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “yep,” he agrees. “she’s definitely a handful. but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

you gasp in mock offense, turning to face geto fully. your backhand thumps against his chest, a playful but firm push, and your eyes narrow with feigned indignation. “pick me? what am i, a stray?” you ask, your voice teasing, lips curled into a pout as you look up at him with exaggerated shock.

geto simply rolls his eyes at your dramatic response, unfazed. he bends down, grabbing his bag from the floor with a lazy motion, effortlessly slinging it over one shoulder. his eyes gleam with amusement as he drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, his body warmth pressing against yours. “let’s go get you some ice cream,” he says, his voice smooth, dripping with playful sarcasm. his smirk only deepens as he adds, “maybe it’ll cool those anger issues of yours.”

you feel the weight of his arm around you, the proximity of his body stirring something familiar in you, but you don't let it show. choso, who’s been silently watching this little exchange with his usual mischievous grin, lets out a low chuckle. “yeah, ice cream’s on him for calling you a stray,” he teases, his voice light and playful as he steps up beside you, giving you a wink that makes your stomach flip.

as you start walking, you feel the tension of the earlier moments dissipate, replaced by the lighthearted banter between the three of you. despite your irritation, there’s a sense of warmth that settles in, and you can’t help but feel an odd mix of affection and frustration toward the two of them.

maybe, these emo boys aren’t as terrible as you thought.

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419jhat · 2 days ago

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I've had this plot bunny for a while. I love the idea of a fic where Eddie is super famous and Steve has no idea who he is, but they meet and fall in love.

Like, Steve's just walking down the street, super sick, trying to find a convenience store so he can find anything to save his drippy nose and stop his cough, when he gets accosted by some dude on the sidewalk with his phone out. The guy and his friend are rambling about the latest Spotify hits and Steve notices a second too late that he's being recorded and that there's a microphone in his face, so he kind of shakes himself awake and adjusts his glasses so he can see the phone.

The guy's all decked out like a rockstar with tattoos and piercings and tight leather everything, and he wants Steve's opinion. But the problem is that Steve doesn't listen to music or pay attention to famous anything, so he kind of recoils, because he realizes this random guy is trying to make him listen to his mixtape.

“Is it good?” Steve asks.

The guy’s friend kind of blinks at him and says, “I mean, it's Eddie Munson,” like that's supposed to mean something.

“Never heard of it,” Steve says with a shrug, and the rockstar starts laughing like a lunatic.

“Well, can you just listen? We're getting street reactions to the new album,” the guy says, offering him an airpod.

Steve sighs and sticks the thing in his ear and rolls his eyes when he instantly recognizes the whiney guitar solo Dustin won't stop playing every hour of the day.

He shrugs and says, “I've heard better.”

This completely shocks the guy. The rockstar takes it as a challenge to try and flirt, but Steve's too sick to catch on so he sits there bitching about Corroded Coffin on camera until he gets bored and ditches the interview halfway to go get his meds. Meanwhile, Eddie's ego is bruised but he's kind of in love. This sparks an internet manhunt desperately trying to find the handsome mystery man who caught the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin's eye, and Steve being harassed by his friends when the interview goes viral.

#steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ao3 #plot bunny

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bananayuyu · 3 days ago

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Come to Mine

Pairing: idol!Yunho x backup dancer!reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You didn't plan for it to be this way. You just couldn't help being attracted to each other.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, safe sex (condom woo), it's very sweet and clumsy

A/n: This was such self indulgence, I hope you enjoy if you read <3 I can't believe the comeback is tonight! I hope everyone is having a good day <33 (sorry for any typos, I didn't feel like editing today)

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

You couldn't believe your eyes when you received the email.

Congratulations, you've been selected as one of the dancers for Ateez's upcoming comeback. Rehearsals start next Monday, August 2nd. Please look out for our next message, which will contain the full schedule with dates and locations. We look forward to working with you!

You'd worked with several other Kpop groups over the last few years. You'd actually made it as a dancer, much to the surprise of your family. You'd like to say you were surprised too, but in truth you weren't. You had felt it in your bones that this is what you were meant to do and would be doing, ever since you first watched a Girl's Generation MV on your shitty middle school laptop.

Working with Ateez felt like the absolute pinnacle. You were only several years in, but you knew from hearing the chatter, from watching their performances, that backup dancing for them was a true honor, and a challenge. You'd gone to the audition with an open mind, not riding on the fact that you'd be selected. They told you all they wanted twelve girls total, a smaller number than you'd expected. And most of the girls you went with were more experienced, or had major connections within the industry, so it really was a shock you were selected. It made your whole body buzz, your confidence skyrocketing. If they believed you could hang with the best of the best, you'd do everything you could to prove them right.

Sitting on the hardwood floor at the end of your first rehearsal, it all just felt right. The group was working together so well already; most of these girls you'd danced with before, and you realized looking around that if you'd ever had the chance to select a dance team yourself, you would have made almost the same selections they did. Everyone was a dance nerd, a true artist, focused, dedicated. Everyone took good care of themselves, was smart, driven, and so hardworking. You all spoke amongst yourselves after rehearsal, anticipating your first rehearsal with the boys, wondering what they'd really be like in person. You'd all followed them closely for years, and were all big fans. You couldn't not be, given just how talented they were, just how dedicated to their craft, the same way you were. But you all vowed to be as respectful as possible, and keep the giggling and ogling to yourselves when the time came.

It was comeback season for them, their schedules incredibly full. The next album was almost entirely finished already though, and you had no doubt they were already beginning work on songs that would make future albums too. It was still six months until the comeback you'd be performing in, the time feeling indescribably far away. Many of the other girls, like you, still had smaller projects to work on in the meantime. This was the beginning of a long journey, one that would begin slowly. It was high pressure, you could feel it. You needed your absolute best to show here, for the sake of your career.

You'd never have guessed how it would feel finally meeting them all.

Sweaty and exhausted, they all came in after their final music show performance. They'd been up since the early hours of the morning to film, and now it was closer to midday. You'd slept in, spending the morning stretching and readying your body for this important rehearsal. In hindsight you hadn't needed to, the first day with the members being more of a meeting, followed by an attempt to brainstorm what formations would be possible with the twenty of you. Then you each had to introduce yourselves, going down the line of twelve, each repeating your names and where you were from.

After saying your name, after bowing, your eyes caught on Yunho's. And in that moment you knew it was all over.

All you could think in that moment was, 'fuck, I don't need this.' Truly, you didn't. There was too much else to focus on. Life had been hectic for so many reasons, but now you were just trying to focus on being present, there for your friends and family, focused on your work. You'd been single for almost two years now, and it had been the best time of your life. The time with your friends had been beautiful, fulfilling, peaceful. The success you'd had with dancing had been all you could have dreamed of. But you knew in that moment that something was about to change, something you doubted you could put any stop to. It felt written in the stars, like it was meant to happen. It had to. You could tell.

He'd noticed you right away. You were the shortest of the girls selected; they'd skewed more towards choosing taller girls, so that the height differences wouldn't be too severe. You weren't tiny, but still he'd noticed right away that you were shorter than everyone else. Your big glasses, your messy wavy hair, your baggy sweat pants. You stood out amongst the rest of the girls, but not because you were flashy. You were almost too relaxed in your appearance. He loved it instantly. And he could tell it affected you when he looked your way, your eyes darting fast to the floor when he pierced you with his gaze.

He watched you intently over the next few rehearsals, seeing immediately how talented you were. You picked up everything with such ease; but you weren't cocky, weren't throwing it in anyone's face. You helped other girls when they needed it, and you spoke up when an instruction wasn't clear, helping the main choreographer realize their mistake. You were quiet, mostly, except when you needed to be loud. You seemed so put together, almost boringly so. Some of the other girls were chaotic, which made the boys or other dancers gossip. But as Yunho listened to it all he realized none of them really mentioned you. From the outside in you seemed unassuming, and he knew people thought the same thing about him. So he knew that just like him, there was something more under the surface. Something juicier, freakier, stranger. Every time he looked you right in the eyes, the few times you'd let him, he could see it written in your pupils. And the way you always looked way, like you'd just had the wind knocked out of you, made him think he was probably right.

It really didn't help that he was such a good dancer, so confident and technically gifted, with a certain quality to his movement that you could not put into words. You became mesmerized from the first moment you saw it in person. You'd been impressed with his dancing abilities for a while, but seeing it in person in front of you, seeing his massive tall body move with a level of control that should not have been possible, had you completely entranced. You couldn't help the giddiness you felt when heading to work, the excited texts sent to your best friend. Your crush was forming fast, threatening to inflate inside of you and make you float away. He was all you could think about when you laid in bed at night, awaiting the next time you'd get to be in his presence, and say the few words you did to each other.

Then one day, it changed.

"Y/n, could I go over the middle section with you?"

His voice came from behind you, as you carefully retied your shoes during a break in rehearsal.

"With me?" you asked, turning around to find him standing behind you.

"Yeah, I've been watching everyone in the mirror and you seem to know that section best. I missed that rehearsal where we first learned it, so I think I'm missing the timing a bit." He reached out a hand to help you up, and you took it automatically, the touch between you sending adrenaline through your heart and making you shiver.

"I think you've been doing it just fine. What part is confusing?" you asked.

"I'm wondering when the arms come up, when we're turning around. Is it on one, or the and of one?"

"It's on the and. Here, do you want to do it slowly together?" You couldn't believe the words were tumbling out of your mouth, so naturally from your years of helping assist dance classes at your high school.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Yunho replied, getting in position beside you. You began counting slowly, you both dancing crudely through the counts, reaching the confusing section with hesitation. "See, one and," you threw your arms up, spinning around and turning your back to the mirror, your hands coming out beside you. "They're not back down until the and of 2."

"Ah, that makes sense. So they're delayed compared to the shifting of our feet there," he said, and you nodded in agreement, watching him step through the moves himself, flawlessly.

"Yeah, that's perfect," you smiled at him.

"Thank you, that was really helpful. I'm worried I'm messing things up cause I missed that rehearsal," he smiled back, arms locked behind his back. It looked like he was nervous, to you, which endeared you even more to him.

"Your dancing looks perfect to me," you said, standing still and awkward, your nervousness also showing.

You both stood staring at each other, and this time you didn't flick your eyes away. It all felt like things were clicking into place, and any feeling you had to resist this little thing was all gone. Not that there really was much to begin with. But you were nervous at first, so unsure of his interest. You couldn't bring yourself to assume that someone like him would want to be friends with someone like you. You had to wait for the confirmation from him.

Easy conversation followed the next few rehearsals. Talking about the choreography was always an easy in, and Yunho took to using it as much as he pleased. He complimented your dance skills more than you thought he should, because you worried the other dancers would find it strange or have something to say about it. But no one said a word to you. You felt this thing happening, the two of you magnets pulled together, but it seemed like no one around you had any clue. It was normal enough for him to want to talk to a dancer about the routine, and so what if in those conversations things turned more personal, more jokey, more flirtatious. He complimented your glasses early on, you remember that, and it stuck with you for weeks. You couldn't get it out of your head, the way his head tilted to the side when he said it. His tone of voice, the look in his eye.

Then there was the rehearsal in the gymnasium. You were all sectioned off, the main focus of the day being how the background sets for the MV would fit around the group of you dancing. The director was there, talking with all of ateez and the head choreographer, as they all stood around on the floor. The rest of you were told to wait in the stands, as they set the exact measurements of the set pieces, needing you all on stand-by at a moments notice. It was times like this you realized just how big the budget they had was; they were paying you all to be here today, even though most of the day you spent just sitting there, your fellow dancer sitting next to you almost falling asleep on your shoulder three separate times.

He saw you as soon as you came in, your hair up in a messy bun, your hoodie swallowing you. Your socks didn't match, your shoe laces partially untied. You pushed your glasses up your nose as you stepped inside, nearly bumping into the girl in front of you. Unassuming. Clumsy. For some reason, everything he wanted.

He craned his neck to watch you sit down, waving when you finally looked in his direction. You waved back, the sleeve of your hoodie pulled over your hand. He stood amongst his members, wishing he could somehow say something to you. Everyone was discussing the slight differences in the placement of something, but he'd stopped listening as soon as he saw you enter, so he really wasn't sure what it was. He reached for his phone, wanting to shoot you off a quick text. But then he remembered, the managers had taken them today so the boys would be focused. Also, he still didn't have your number. He knew he needed to remedy that problem as quickly as he could.

You zoned out for a moment, everyone around you buried deep in their phones as soon as they realized they'd be stuck in the bleachers for a bit. But it didn't take long for your gaze to sweep back down, settling on the person you couldn't keep your mind off of. You were met with a surprise, holding a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

Yunho was holding up a piece of paper in your direction, the word HI written in big bold letters. You weren't even sure where he got the paper from, much less the marker, but god did it make your heart constrict. How fucking adorable, how totally and completely cheesy. You were like Taylor Swift and her crush in 'You Belong With Me,' holding out written signs to each other and reading them through the window. Well, you could have been, if you had any paper of your own. You smiled, his action absolutely heartwarming, but you couldn't help feeling terribly disappointed that you couldn't reciprocate the gesture. That was until you remembered the back of your hoodie had the word HELLO written across it, right above the smiling sunflower. You held your hand out to him, beckoning him to wait a moment, as you turned and lifted up the hood to make sure he could see the white letters, that you hoped contrasted enough against the blue fabric that he could see them from so far away.

You turned to find him smiling, his shoulders jumping for a moment like he was laughing. It was just far enough away that you couldn't hear well, so you had no idea if he really was. The moment passed, and your heart was beating remarkably fast, but yet again it seemed like no one around you noticed. You blinked around, looking over your shoulder at your fellow dancers. Right then it hit you, that maybe you shouldn't be so openly doing this, whatever this was. You'd been warned time and time again that being involved with an idol was bad news, that plenty of dancers had done it and payed the price. One of your favorite fellow dancers had dated an idol, and you'd heard her horror story before over drinks one night. You knew people had complicated feelings on the subject.

But you also knew your own feelings weren't so complicated, at least when it came to him. Finally you all were beckoned down to the floor, the sets put in place. You all danced in front of them, the director trying out his camera movements, asking you to repeat certain sections so he could try different angles, see how the composition would look with so many bodies in the shot. You'd said hello to each other when you came down, but quickly you had to get to work, everyone's focus held on your dancing. It wasn't until you all wrapped up for the day that he said anything else.

"Hey, I've been meaning to get your number so we can text if we need to, like today," he said. Your stomach dropped; you couldn't believe the words you were hearing. Was he really asking for your number, here in front of everyone?

"Yeah, that would be great," you smiled, waiting for him to pull out his phone and hand it to you.

"My manager has my phone, do you have yours?" he asked.

"Uh, it's up in stands with the rest of my stuff. I'll have to go grab it," you responded, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah, no worries-"

"Everyone we need to clear out, we're supposed to be gone in five minutes! Let's get going!" the lead choreographer cut him off, calling out to the whole room.

"Yunho, I've got your bag, and the car is out front, we need to leave now," his manager came running up, placing a hand on his shoulder. You didn't know where he was headed, but it was probably another rehearsal, or interview, or photoshoot. One of the thousands of things they all had scheduled every week.

In the chaos you scrambled up the stairs, grabbing your stuff before dashing out the door, not wanting to get in trouble. Yunho waved to you from the car, it pulling away as soon as you exited the building and started your walk to the subway station. It had all happened so fast, and you hoped he didn't think that you'd forgotten. His question stuck in your mind over the next three days, until you had rehearsal again. And that time you walked in with your phone already open, pulled up to a new contact entry. You didn't even greet him that day; you just placed your phone in his hands, and looked up at him with big eyes. He blinked a moment, but it wasn't hard for him to know what you were asking. He put in his number, handing the phone back to you, and you sent off your first text of many.

🌸: hello :)

You waited that night after rehearsal, meeting up with your best friend for dinner. You could just feel it again, you knew he'd say something, if you had just a little patience.

🐶: I hope rehearsal didn't kill you today. They really didn't give you guys any breaks :(

Immediately you squealed, shoving your phone into your friend's face.

"How cute, he's so concerned for you," she laughed, poking your cheek.

"I can't believe he already texted," you sighed, grabbing another bite.

"He obviously likes you," she said, making your mind spin.

"Don't say that, you're getting my hopes up," you replied, shaking your head.

"Why else would he ask for your number?" she asked.

"To talk to me about work stuff, dance stuff, I don't know?" you replied.

"Did he ask for anyone else's number?" she asked.

"I don't know, he could have," you said, raising your shoulders.

"I doubt it," she smiled. "Look at you, you've caught yourself an idol. Better be careful, my girl," she joked, finishing off her drink.

"I wonder if this is a bad idea," you pondered, staring off into space and letting your mind wander.

"Don't overthink it. How often do you come across people you like? If he likes you two, you should go for it. You don't have any reason to hold yourself back from this. I mean, be careful of course. I don't want any death threats coming your way," she chuckled, reaching over the table and grabbing your hand. "Connecting with another person is a special thing, and it sounds like you two really have. Don't under sell that."

You left the restaurant and wandered home, a warm feeling in your chest. Hugging your friend goodbye you thanked her, so grateful to have someone you know you can tell anything to. As soon as you made it home, you pulled out your phone and responded to him.

🌸: It was fine, I just got very sweaty. my hair was a frizzy mess 🐶: you still looked so pretty 🌸: you are very sweet to me 🌸: why is that 🐶: I like you, that's why 🌸: you like me? 🐶: I want to see you outside of work 🌸: I want that too

You breath caught in your throat. It was everything you could have hoped to hear and more.

🌸: how can we do that tho 🐶: we'll find a way 🌸: you could come to my place. it's very small. I live alone

He could have guessed that was the case. You never mentioned having roommates, or parents, or anyone else you lived with in the brief conversations you'd had.

🐶: can I come this Saturday? 🌸: okay :) 🐶: are you sure? 🌸: be here at 7 🐶: will do

You had two days of filming for a different group's music video, a huge group dance with nearly fifty dancers. You be finishing it up Saturday morning, and hoped that things ran on time. You wanted to have the time to get yourself ready, take a shower, pick out your clothes. Even though you'd just be at home, surely just lounging around. You wanted to wear your favorite sweats, and the black tank top you had that sat perfectly over your figure. You two wouldn't be going on dinner dates out, or to the bar for drinks, or to the cafe or farmer's market or any other place where Yunho could be spotted. He didn't have to explain that to you; you'd worked in this industry long enough to understand. He'd have to do everything he could to avoid being seen entering your building. If this did become a romance, it would be one conducted in the privacy of bedrooms, apartments, hotels. You couldn't walk out on the street holding hands, or even just walk down the street side by side. But then you reminded yourself of the if. You still didn't know what he wanted, exactly. You'd still never been in the same room just the two of you. The nerves gnawed at you as you showered, as you carefully set out the clothes you would wear as you dried your hair. You'd wear no bra with your tank top, you decided, and you'd wear your favorite bikini cut black underwear. You didn't like lacy thongs, you didn't like most women's clothing period. But you wanted to feel sexy when he arrived, wanted it to be clear to him what you were after.

🐶: I'm heading out now, I should be there in 17 minutes, according to google maps 🌸: see you soon :)

Your adrenaline surged, your body sweating despite the cool temperature of your tiny apartment. You scrambled around, cleaning every surface one time over again, making sure your dirty clothes were tucked away in your closet and not strewn about anywhere. You gave yourself a final look in the mirror, your glasses looking comically huge on your face. Your hair was a mess, but it always was. You'd never learned how to properly take care of your waves. The black tank top looked as good as you'd hoped though, so you shrugged. It was good enough.

You'd only sat on your couch for about thirty seconds when the doorbell rang, and you physically jumped. Opening your door you found him in a loose button up shirt, casual baggy pants, a baseball cap covering his nut brown hair, and a mask.

"Hi, come in," you said, your heart beating faster than it did even during your most difficult dance numbers.

"Thank you," he said, stepping inside, his jacket held over his arm. He pulled off his mask, folding it and shoving it in his pocket.

"Would you like some water?" you asked, awkwardly. You didn't know what to say, the two of you standing feet apart in your tiny living room.

"Sure, that'd be great," he said, looking around, taking everything in.

"You can sit on my couch, or on the floor, if you'd like. Sorry there aren't more options, my apartment is tiny," you said as you filled his glass. You decided to fill one for yourself, realizing now that you'd completely forgotten to eat dinner or drink any water this afternoon because of your nerves.

"It's perfect. I really like it," he said, sitting himself down cross legged on the floor, on the small rug that surrounded your coffee table. It was the only table you had here, the one you always ate your meals at. "Is this the rug you always lay on at night?" he asked as you came and set his water in front of him.

"Oh, no, that one's in my room," you smiled, sitting opposite him on your couch, cross legged too.

"I was gonna say, this is pretty small for laying on," he laughed.

"My other one is small too, I guess," you laugh in response.

"Can I see it?" His eyes have a mischievous glint to them as they meet yours.

"Sure," you say, smirking back at him. You're trying to put on a confident front, because you swear you keep seeing his eyes trail down your body hungrily, but as soon as you start walking towards your room your legs are shaky. Yunho reaches out and grabs your shoulder from behind, steadying you for a moment.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, just tired. Filming ran long this morning, we had to go over this one section like fifty times. I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," you say.

"Do you have a foam roller? It's helps me a lot when my legs are cramping up on me," he says, as you open your bedroom door, revealing the tiny room to him. It only has room for your full bed, your dresser shoved into your closet.

"I should really get one," you say, turning to face him. "There's the rug," you smile, watching intently to see his reaction.

"That's the one you lay on every night?" he asks. You nod your head, chuckling. "That's even smaller than the one out there," he laughs, pointing in the direction of your living room.

"I wonder if you'd even fit," you laugh, looking down at the small strip of floor that isn't taken up by your bed frame.

"Let me try," he says, kicking off his shoes and setting them on your shoe rack outside your door. He crouches down, settling himself on his side, his legs bent up to make it possible for him to fit.

"Wow, so comfortable," he quips, sarcastically.

"It is if your my size," you pout, looking down at him with your arms crossed.

"You really lay here every night before bed?" he asks.

"It's my favorite spot in the world," you nod.

"You think we could both fit?" he asks, pulling off his hat and tossing it on your bed, holding out an arm to you.

"Maybe..." you trail off, stepping over towards him, carefully setting yourself down in front of him. You're on you side too, your face maybe a foot from his, your back shoved up against your closet door. You stare into each other's eyes, still not having touched, the whole scene potentially still friendly and innocent.

A yawn hits you, a wave of exhaustion washing over your whole body. You really should have remembered to eat a good meal before this.

"Tired?" Yunho asks, you his eyes not leaving yours.

"I guess so. Sorry for yawning," you say.

"Am I boring you?" he jokes.

"No, not at all," you shake your head, smiling back at him. And then you both just stare, a good minute passing, your heart racing and racing in your chest, your body aching for something, anything.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks, but still doesn't move. So you do instead, pulling yourself closet to him, your legs entangling as your lips finally meet, the first moments of the kiss awkward and stilted in that way it always is with a new person. But soon enough you've found each other's rhythm; you can tell he likes sucking on your bottom lip, and likes it when you open your mouth and let out those breathy moans, allowing him to dive his tongue inside, feeling over the plush softness of your tongue. It's heated so quickly, your arms desperately grabbing at each other, a sexual excitement awakened in you in a way it hadn't been in so many years. You got lost in it; you couldn't have even remembered your own name in that moment, because all you knew was his mouth and his hands, his tongue on your neck, the way your clit felt rubbing hard against his thigh, your climax reaching you so fast you don't even realize it until your hands are cramping up. They do that when you're too stimulated, when your whole nervous system has too much input and can't process it all. He senses a change in you, pulling back to see you holding your hands, trying desperately to calm the spasming muscles.

"What's wrong?" he asks, gently holding your hands in his own.

"It just happens sometimes, when I come," you whisper into the cool air of your bedroom. "My hands lock up like this." You start to giggle, a blush creeping over your face at the look he's giving you.

"You came?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm insanely sensitive," you laugh, still rubbing at your hands.

"Fuck," he groans, shaking his head back and forth, and you laugh again at how affected he is. "Are your hands going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just give them a moment. They'll be fine," you say, putting your face up to his again, your lips connecting and fire shooting through you once again.

Before you know it he's on top of you, kissing you hard, his hands snaking underneath your top to feel over your hard nipples, grabbing hungrily at your body. "Can I taste you?" he whispers through ragged breaths, and you nod into him, whispering yes on his lips. He moves down, pulling at the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lips your hips to help him. When he grabs at your panties he drags them off slowly, shoving them in the pocket of his jeans, moving his mouth down your thighs and licking up to your core. He swipes his tongue up your slit slowly, giving firm pressure to his movement, making you moan and arch your back in response, your knees falling wide and hitting the wall and bed you're caged between. Yunho hums at the taste of you, the heady sweetness better than he could have even imagined, his tongue swiping again and again up your entire slit, taking in as much of you as he can.

"Fuck you taste good," he whispers, before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking gently and making you squirm, your knees jumping up to cage in his head. Then he's adding a finger, and then another, slowly pumping them into you while he keeps sucking on your sensitive bud, ripping another orgasm out of you in seconds. He keeps touching you through your after shocks, making your moans high pitched and sharp as you feel overstimulated, but then as he keeps going you slip back into pleasure, and another orgasm builds faster than the first.

"Fuck, fuck," you scream, your hand in his hair, snaking through and grabbing hard onto it. It makes Yunho moan, the vibrations radiating through your core and sending you over the edge once again, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. This time you push him up, your body wracked from coming so hard and fast.

"You can come multiple times," he states, his lips and chin glistening from your slick. You just nod coyly, breathing hard, trying to regain your sanity as he moves on top of you again, kissing you hard. You moan at the taste of yourself, and at the way he's smothering you so entirely. "You like how you taste?" he asks, smiling into you as you nod your head yes, your lips not able to leave each other for more than a few seconds.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks into your ear, his low voice shuddering through you.

"Please," you whisper, grabbing at his pants to help push them down, laughing as he tries to stand and bumps his head on the door handle to your closet.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, holding his head for a moment, scrambling still to pull of his pants and finally get to what he's wanted all night. "You're making me so desperate that I'm hurting myself," he jokes, slipping a condom over himself with finesse, finally collapsing back onto you, rubbing his hard dick up and down your slit, attaching his lips to yours once again. Slowly he pushes in, testing the waters, watching your face as he stretches you out. He's loving your reaction, the way that just him putting his cock in you is making you so overwhelmed with feelings and pleasure.

"You're so big," you cry into his shoulder, grasping onto him for dear life.

"I know," he chuckles, his face in your hair, taking in the scent of you.

"Shut up," you giggle, hitting his shoulder playfully, holding back a moan from ripping out of you. He's just barely bottomed out, holding tight onto your hips to anchor himself.

"You okay?" he whispers, placing gentle kisses on your forehead temple, keeping himself still until you give him the okay. You nod against him, your face still buried in his shoulder, holding him to you.

"Please move Yunho," you beg, your body needing more from him now, even if the stretch is hurting. He slowly pulls himself out, pushing back in with care, the wet sounds loud and embarrassing. You're so wet it's starting to drip down your leg, and he slides in so easily, even though you're tight against him.

"Does that feel good?" he asks you, setting a slow pace, watching your body intently. You babble and nod against him, and he picks his pace up, hitting something so deep inside of you that it makes you head fly back against the ground again. Thankfully your rug is there on the floor, but it isn't the thickest, and the actions till hurts.

"Ow," you mutter, your eyebrows scrunching up in pain.

"Careful, careful," he coos, grabbing the back of your head in his large palm, slowing his movements. "Why are we on the floor when your bed is right there?"

You chuckle, blinking up at him with blown pupils, your walls still clenching hard around him.

"Let's move up there," he smiles, slowly pulling out of you, standing gingerly and helping you up carefully, too. You pull at his shirt, unbuttoning some of his buttons, making him pull if off over his head. He's completely revealed to you now, and he grabs at your top too, pulling it over your head and throwing it over the side of the bed.

"Your head okay?" he asks, moving on top of you again, cradling it in his hand.

"Yeah, it's okay," you laugh, staring up at him. "How's yours?"

"It's fine," he chuckles, kissing you deeply and grabbing at you, unable to stop himself. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, and in a moment he's sheathed himself inside of you again, resting your head against your pillows as he starts fucking you hard, his mouth on yours as your tongues swirl around each other's mouths. He's hitting that spot inside you again, over and over sending waves of pleasure through your abdomen. You feel like you're being split open, like your entire body is filled by him, by everything he's meaning to you. The care, the attention, the perfect angle of his hips as they snap against yours, has your mind floating on a cloud of pure joy. God, it's never felt this good, and you don't want it to stop, don't ever want this feeling to end. You know you're stuck now, you're addicted, you've had one taste of him and you'll never want anyone else.

"Yunho," you whine against his lips, as you feel another orgasm building.

"Fuck, don't say my name like that, you're gonna make me come," he groans, lifting his head up to deepen his angle even further, fucking you even harder. "Are you close?" he asks, and you whimper in response, moaning high pitched and holding tight onto his biceps. "You're so fucking perfect," he says, his upper body falling down on top of yours again, as he holds you close. You come, the warmth and safety his body is giving you making you release, every part of your being comforted by the man above you.

"Yes, fuck that feels good," he groans into your ear, feeling the way you're squeezing so hard down onto him, your moans like screams again, stroking his ego in such an addicting way. "I'm never gonna get enough of you," he groans, finally releasing his load, his orgasm washing over him hard as his hips stutter, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he finally comes. He collapses on top of you, holding you close as you both come down from your highs, your breaths hard and fast and totally in sync.

"You're amazing," he mumbles, stroking a hand through your hair.

"No, you're amazing," you giggle, your head floaty and calm in your post orgasmic state. You poke his side, giggling into him when his body jumps.

"Don't you dare do that right now," he grumbles, tickling you back and twice as hard, making you shriek and laugh beneath him.

You stay cuddled up all night, not able to sleep cause you keep kissing, Yunho's large warm body making you feel safe in a way you didn't know you were missing.

"I should have taken these off before I fucked you," he laughs as he pulls of you glasses, placing them gingerly on your side table.

"Eh, it's okay," you laugh, snuggling into him closer. "They're always on, I'm used to it. I keep them on even when I dance most of the time, which is weird."

"I noticed," he said. "They're so fucking cute."

"You really like them?"

"Y/n, you're fucking perfect. Every thing about you."

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

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and-a-pidgey-in-a-wepear-tree · 3 days ago

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for the metalheads in the notes — check out Alien Weaponry and Bloodywood and The Hu !!!!

bro i LOVE indigenous fusion music i love it when indigenous people take traditional practices and language and apply them in new cool ways i love the slow decay and decolonisation of the modern music industry

#music #long post #humans are just so good sometimes

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heechwe · 3 days ago

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lost in wonderland | 𝐩𝐬𝐡

୨୧ pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 12k ୨୧ genre: smut, semi-angst, fluff ୨୧ tags: mentions of drug use, fake dating au, rockstar!sunghoon, popstar!reader, enemies to lovers au, jerk to down bad sunghoon, pet names (baby, doll, love, etc.), dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), belly bulging, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: Park Sunghoon, one half of popular rock band Into Eden, is on thin ice with his management and the general public. What does his manager Jay decide to do? Set him up with the leader of rising pop girl group PrismHeart. And while it starts as two stubborn people living in a lie, growing feelings cannot hold anything but the truth. ➸ This one's dedicated to my lovely betas: Ley @pars-ley), Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, Kiki @wonwovy, & Lola @monamipencil)! I'm so grateful to y’all and the love you’ve given this story; I hope everyone else loves it too 🤍 Also the ending song and inspiration for the title is from Boys Like Girls's song "Lost in Wonderland"!

“PARK SUNGHOON: ANOTHER HEARTBREAK UNDER HIS BELT?”

“IS HEESEUNG TIRED OF HIS BANDMATE’S GAMES? IS ‘INTO EDEN’ IN TROUBLE OF DISBANDING?”

“DID SUNGHOON RUIN ANOTHER GIRL GROUP, AND HIS EX’S CAR?”

Sunghoon laughs at the headlines plastered across his manager’s desk. The gossip rags are the only vibrant thing in the office, the monochrome black and white color scheme creating a strict atmosphere that suffocates the rock star to no end. Who knew such bullshit could provide such humor?

The sound dies on Sunghoon’s tongue when he sees Jay’s displeasure pervade the older man’s entire face. His arms are crossed, and Sunghoon can see the veins in Jay’s neck tighten.

“You think this is funny?” Jay asks, his voice even-keeled, but his body language anything but.

“No, Mr. Park.”

“Hoon.” Jay says his talent’s name with admonishment. He sits back down in his chair across from Sunghoon, the large desk separating them. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“What should I call you, Mr. Park? Bro? Dude? J-Man?”

Jay can’t help the chuckle on his lips, but he shuts it down to go back to the discussion at hand. “Simply put, the label’s pissed. All that we should see two months before your tour is good press, not this shit. And you know Yeji is going to do more than just comment in a couple of tabloids.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “She has nothing to say, besides the fact that it ended mutually.”

“You call making out with Lia ‘ending mutually’?”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t know what you were told, but that happened after we broke up.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Jay takes the multitude of tabloids and throws them in the trash next to his desk. “The label is going to chop my balls off if I don’t fix the problems you created.”

Sunghoon, in his mind, isn’t a problem child, per se. He simply pales in comparison to his golden boy best friend and musical partner, Lee Heeseung. It isn’t his fault that Heeseung is squeaky clean. The only crazy thing the guy has ever done was dye his hair red for their recent cover shoot.

Sure, Heeseung has been committed to one person for years, long before the two men ever became a name in the public eye. The guy never partakes in recreational activities, choosing to spend his free time with his girlfriend or in video game chat rooms rather than in nightclubs like his counterpart. And he’s always been a media darling, giving signed photos to fans and providing the paparazzi with his undivided attention without complaint.

Sunghoon likes to live without restrictions or red tape. If he has to be judged for that, constantly not measuring up to the pedestal his best friend lives on, so be it.

“It’s time for Plan B,” Jay says, breaking Sunghoon from his thoughts.

After Sunghoon’s brows furrow in confusion, Jay turns on the TV stationed behind his desk. The news video on display shows the members of PrismHeart, the label’s rising girl group, attending the AMAs with bright smiles and matching sparkly ensembles.

“This is Plan B?” Sunghoon asks, releasing a breathless laugh.

“No.” Jay points to you in the center of the LED screen. Your hair billows in the wind as your face shines with the same quality of the cameras capturing your essence on the red carpet.

Sunghoon is taken aback by you without hearing you speak a single word, and he suspects something devious brewing behind his manager’s eyes when he says, “She is.”

The nightclub is packed with D-list celebrities and upcoming starlets, ready to post to their respective social media accounts. With the right touch, the news will work its way to the trending page without fail.

Thankfully, Jay, Sunghoon’s manager, knows how to set the scene for a piece of tabloid fodder. It’s part of his job to make sure that, for better or worse, Sunghoon gets his time in the spotlight.

As for you, all you’re expected to do is mingle with your new “boyfriend,” look pretty in your little black dress, and set the trap.

You asked your own manager, Momo, if you could bring one of the girls along to break the ice and make the “meet cute” look more believable, and both she and Jay agreed.

So here you are, sitting across from Yujin with a strawberry martini in one hand and your cellphone in the other, waiting for the signal.

“He is pretty cute. You can’t deny that.” Yujin scrolls through Sunghoon’s Instagram feed, multiple gym pics and rehearsal photos lining the grid of his main profile.

When Momo produced Jay’s offer to her, she marketed it to you as the perfect way for PrismHeart to skyrocket from simmering stardom into true mega-fame. All it took was a handful of white lies and scheduled meetups. No harm, no foul, right?

Like a devoted group leader, hands in your lap and a demure smile on your face, you said yes. You would do anything for your team and the girls who were your second family at this point. Not disclosing the truth was an easy thing to do, and nobody’s feelings would be sacrificed in the process.

It would also be a welcome distraction from the destruction of your last relationship. The back and forth with Jake proved to be too much on both your work and personal lives, 7 months of happiness leading to a slow and bitter end.

Maybe a cute boy with no attachments and some light flirting could be a nice way to bounce back into the game. Then, when a real relationship would be possible for you again, you’d be ready.

You nod and take another sip of your drink, the alcohol leaving a burning aftertaste in your throat. “He is,” you agree. “He’s terrible at time management, though, clearly.”

Yujin rolls her eyes and continues scrolling. “Take off your micromanaging hat tonight, babe. Have fun. Kiss your new fake beau.”

“Say it louder,” you chide, lips on the rim of your glass again. The drink was taking the edge off of your nerves, but you still couldn’t shake the desire to make sure things went perfectly.

For both work and personal reasons, you need this to go off without a hitch.

A second later, your phone buzzes on the top of the bar. Sunghoon’s face lights up your screen, along with his message.

[Received at 10:46 PM]: Walking in with Jungwon. U?

You internally roll your eyes at the cryptic text. Jake was so good at making his messages personable, and although you could put a dagger in him for breaking your heart, the least you can do is recognize that was one of his better qualities.

You just hope Sunghoon is better in person than he is on the page. Or phone, so to speak.

[Sent at 10:48]: By the bar with Yujin.

Sunghoon saunters through the club’s double doors, the notorious half of Into Eden smiling ear to ear with his friend Jungwon in tow. Your ex Jake and Jungwon hung in similar circles due to their statuses as popular actors, but Jungwon was always nice when you ran into him.

He greets you with a smile but stops short when he sees your best friend, his cheeks turning a red hue. “Sorry, you’re just even more beautiful in person.”

As Yujin stutters over her next words, sharing a similar blush with the man in front of her, Sunghoon saunters over to your side and grins. As you look closer at him, you can discern the pink around his irises and the flimsy edges of his smile.

He’s high. So much rides on his cooperation on this plan and he’s fucking high?

“Park Sunghoon, pleased to meet you.” He gives your hand a sloppy kiss when your fingers link together in a handshake, and you retract immediately. Sunghoon pays no mind to your distaste, immediately ordering a beer and downing it the second it slides across the bar.

“Do you think you should be mixing alcohol with…whatever’s in your system?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Sunghoon winks at you and scoots closer on his barstool to you, tracing the skin of your thighs with his eyes. “I think this is the part where we dance?”

You scoff and down what’s left of your martini. You flag the bartender down for another, incredulous but trying to mask your anger with another drink. “Maybe we should get to know each other first?”

“What’s there to know? Jay gave me all the cliffnotes this morning. And we can just learn as we go, you know?”

A part of you wants to run into this without a roadmap, but it’s not in your nature. And it would be a lot easier to let yourself relax if you knew you were walking into this plan with a person as serious as you are about it.

But no, you get a stoned rockstar as your new “boyfriend” instead.

The bartender hands you your second martini, and you hop off the barstool with it in your hand. You take a light sip before you motion to the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

You have a tight grasp on the stem of your glass as Sunghoon takes your free hand to walk towards the dance floor. You notice Yujin and Jungwon dancing in a far corner together, the two of them hitting it off incredibly well.

Your hips sway to the song, your body trying to follow the music that’s thumping loudly through the speakers. It’s a remix you don’t recognize, but you enjoy it nonetheless. You smile as the pulse of the song thrums through your veins, your nerves at their lowest since arriving at the club.

What you don’t expect is for Sunghoon’s hands to settle on your hips, pulling you closer to fall into rhythm together. He moves well considering his prowess lies in rock rather than pop.

“You’re a pretty good dancer for a bassist,” you tease.

“I have a lot of talents,” he remarks back, the club lights gleaming across his face in purple and pink strobes.

He looks better in person than in all the interviews and tabloids you read prior to meeting him tonight. In your efforts to gain intel for the meetup, you couldn’t deny how well he cleaned up, even when he acted poorly.

The slosh of your drink makes you stop dancing for a second, and you laugh. “Probably shouldn’t have brought this on the–”

Sunghoon captures your lips in a searing kiss. The taste of ale lingers on your tongue the longer both of your mouths are linked. He is a good kisser, no doubt, but where does he get off assuming you wanted him to? All you had to show for tonight so far was some small conversation. Is that his typical green light to dive straight into making out?

You immediately push him off, the contents of your martini glass spilling on him in the process. “What the hell?” Sunghoon asks, touching his jacket and feeling the leather soaked in sugary liquor.

You’re stunned at how brash yet nonchalant he is about what he just did, caring more for his clothes than your personal space that he just invaded.

“You’re such a bastard,” you whisper loud enough for only Sunghoon to hear, his eyes immediately widening at your words. You walk away from him stunned and drop the glass on the counter where you were initially sitting. Not wanting to take Yujin away from her success of a night, you run outside to a handful of cameras flashing and your failure coating your skin.

Late into the next morning, you sip a hefty cup of tea for breakfast as you scroll through your latest mentions. The socials are blowing up from your recent outing with Yujin, Jungwon, and Sunghoon. You half expected to wake up to the ending of your career, but to your relief, the event was nothing short of a success.

Despite your embarrassment on the drive home and sadness before bed last night, your followers and many of Into Eden’s fans seem to have taken the bait. Some took shots of you exiting the nightclub, Sunghoon following shortly behind with a smile on his face. They also edited short clips of the two of you on the dance floor. Incredibly, none of them caught your mishap with your martini on video.

Better yet, they found the prospect of you and Sunghoon not just exciting but fitting somehow.

@edenenthusiast: hope she can whip him back into shape, miss the old hoon.

@sunghoonsluv71: sad he’s off the market but they’re actually cute together???

@prismshearts_09: she looks so happy!! suck it @jaeyun_sim.

In the next second, your phone blows up from a mention on Sunghoon’s most recent story. Your handle is hidden in a far corner of the black screen but the words plastered across the screen say everything they need to.

“Love at first spill? 🍸😏”

All of your band members and Momo light up your group chat with their excitement. In the chaos of the chat, you thumb-up a text from Yujin about Jungwon giving her his number.

Then, a single text pops up from Sunghoon that makes your glee transform into anxiety.

[Received at 11:52 AM]: Lunch on me? :/

You feel a part of your chest flutter. There’s a hope that maybe in the light of day you’ll get a chance to see the real Sunghoon. No drugs, no cameras, no need to impress. Maybe if he’s away from the attention, he’ll realize you deserve an apology for his actions.

[Sent at 11:56 AM]: Lunch and dinner or get lost.

You see the quick succession of bubbles following your text, his response hot on the heels of your last message that he reacts to with a laughing emoji.

[Received at 11:58] I think I can handle that.

You sit across from Sunghoon on the balcony of his apartment, two BLTs cooked to perfection on the patio table in front of you. He kept to his word, laying a spread of food out for you in exchange for your time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Did you make these yourself?” You ask.

Sunghoon shakes his head, bashful. “Jay helped me. Not only is he a great manager, but he’s actually an amazing cook.”

You nod and smile, grabbing a bite as Sunghoon’s blush and your quiet chewing fills the silence.

“I wanted to say that yesterday got out of hand, and I shouldn’t have gotten wasted before meeting you. It was unprofessional, and I apologize.”

You tap your fingers on the wicker table, your gut warning you to be cautious. “Did Jay tell you to say that?”

Sunghoon stutters on whatever words he planned to say next and quickly runs a hand through his hair. “I mean it, what difference does it make? I really am sorry, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “So you’re apologizing using someone else’s script? That’s supposed to make me believe you?”

Sunghoon scoffs and presses his palms to the table. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”

“I’m impossible because you got loaded and decided to stick your tongue down my throat? Oh, and I bet the next words out of your mouth were going to be how stubborn I am because I expected you to actually want to make up for how shit you acted last night.”

“Wow. Are you just mad because you didn’t expect to like me kissing you that much?” Sunghoon says his question with a pestering but sultry tone, the words completely rhetorical.

You huff and make your exit from the table. “Fuck this, I should never have come.”

Before you can walk away from the balcony, Sunghoon takes your wrist in his hand. His eyes express his frustration, his mouth in a grim line. “Don't leave, please. Can we just pretend that the last twelve hours never happened? Start from scratch. We both know we need each other here.”

You take a deep breath and cross your arms, walking back to your side of the table with a stone expression. “I think it’s a good idea to create some rules for…this arrangement.”

Sunghoon stares you down, still irritated but agreeable. “I’m all ears.”

“First and foremost,” you start, “whenever we’re scheduled to meet, no drugs. Do it in your spare time.”

Sunghoon nods. “That’s fair.”

“Second, no PDA unless there’s people around that need to notice it. And we have to agree on it before either one of us initiates anything.”

“What,” Sunghoon laughs, “like a secret bat signal?”

“Sure Batman,” you jest. Does he have to joke every time he decides to speak? Against your better judgment, a small piece of you finds it endearing.

He ponders the thought and then taps two fingers to the side of his neck. “How’s that?”

“Fine,” you agree. “Do you have any other rules you think we should add?”

The word “we” slips so easily from your tongue. In spite of the way he stirs up every ounce of frustration inside of you, already you see him on the same team as you. That has to be a good sign.

He rubs his index finger and thumb under his chin, half teasing but half reflecting on what he could add.

“Only one more thing,” Sunghoon says. “When we don’t have plans to spend time together, what we do in our private time is our business.”

You raise your hands. “Not a problem for me.”

Sunghoon reaches his hand across the table. “Deal?”

What the outcome of your arrangement will be besides the expected results remains up in the air. Whether it will reap what you want is really anyone’s guess. But if it means you do your duties as a good bandmate, you will take whatever comes at you.

You grasp his fingers in yours, shaking them gingerly. “Deal.”

Into Eden’s most popular song “Salvation” plays on the stereo speakers in the photography studio of Vogue magazine’s headquarters. The two men on set act incredibly comfortable, Heeseung’s arm wrapped around Sunghoon’s shoulder. The older musician’s red hair is stark against the chosen clothing for the shoot, but he makes it work.

He always does, Sunghoon thinks with a repressed sigh. His hair is slicked back in contrast to Heeseung’s messy mop of wind-blown tresses, creating the contrast between the two that highlights the shoot’s concept. TWO SOULS COLLIDE: THE LEADING MUSICIANS OF NEW AGE ROCK.

Sunghoon stays still for the next shot of him and Heeseung, but he can’t help himself from following you with his eyes when you enter the studio with a bag of breakfast treats and a to-go tray of coffees.

He did not expect to see you show up to his photoshoot, and Jay didn’t give him any warning for the event on his schedule being one you would share space with. He’s not against it though. In the sea of gray suits and media lackeys, you’re a breath of fresh air. You have already taken his attention away from the mundane nature of the task he’s assigned to complete today.

He can’t deny that Jay’s plan has already made shifts to his image in the public eye. It’s only been a week of public paparazzi candids and social media mentions shared between his and your accounts, and fans are eating it up.

And, though he might never say it out loud, something about your presence levels him in a way Jay’s and Heeseung’s doesn’t. He quantifies it to you also understanding the pressures of the music industry, the feeling of someone outside of his circle who can relate to him foreign but welcome. Your relationship may be manufactured, but he has to look at the positives it’s already created in his life.

Jay runs over to you with a bright smile. “You’re an angel, thank you.”

You grin and take a breakfast sandwich from the bag to give to Sunghoon’s manager. “Least I could do for a member of my boyfriend’s camp.”

Jay winks over the rim of his coffee cup and goes back to the photographer’s side, overseeing the shots with a bit of sausage sticking out of his mouth.

You give Sunghoon a slight wave and stay a few steps away from the large lights capturing the shadows and highlights on the men’s faces.

You haven’t met Heeseung up to this point, so interacting with Sunghoon’s bandmate will add a new dimension to your “relationship.”

In contrast with Sunghoon, Heeseung exudes seriousness in every movement. You’re unsure if it’s because of his maturity or dedication to everything he does, similar to yourself, but it shows in the way the men stand next to each other. Where Sunghoon is fluid like water, transforming into whatever he needs to be, Heeseung is stoic and certain of himself, solid like a stone.

You wonder how such different people managed to be friends and bandmates. Then again, you’re in a group with four other girls, and your personalities are anything but similar.

“Alright, I think it’s time for individual shots. Mr. Park, we’ll do yours first!”

Heeseung runs to his chair in front of the vanity. It’s set up in a corner of the room for retouching his and Sunghoon’s hair and makeup. He beckons you over with a polite smile, and you oblige the silent request.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to greet you since you came in. You know how it is,” Heeseung’s lips turn up at the corners as his makeup artist dabs at his forehead with a clean powder puff. “I’m Lee Heeseung.”

You respond with your name and shake his hand, your nerves spiking. You expected Heeseung to be both attractive and polite, but it’s another level in person compared to his media appearances.

“Have you always been interested in music?” You ask.

Heeseung nods, still smiling. “Since I was old enough to hold a guitar. Both of us, actually. I don’t know if Hoon told you, but he was the one that started the band.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “No, he didn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t really talk about his work. Neither of us do.”

Heeseung laughs. “Yeah. He’s a closed book a lot of the time. But he’s got a great soul, he just doesn’t let a lot of people see it.”

You look down at your shoes, smiling. “I’d offer you a bagel, but I think the team would kill me if I let you mess up your makeup.”

Heeseung releases another chuckle. “Save it for Hoon, then. Make it a little lunch date.” When the photographer’s assistant calls for Heeseung, he winks at you and leaps off of the chair.

Sunghoon finds you in the next second, smiling warmly before taking the bag of food from your hands. “Please tell me there's an everything bagel in here.”

You nod. “With extra cream cheese.”

He beckons you to the free armchairs on the opposite side of the makeshift vanities. You sit down across from him and find your croissant in the bag, ready to eat it whole at this point.

“You could’ve eaten before I finished. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

You shrug and bite into your food. “Force of habit. I always make sure the girls eat before I do.”

He nods and takes a chunk out of his own bagel. “Like a good leader. I knew Jay liked you for a reason.”

You scoff, practically choking on the egg and cheese in the croissant. “Says the guy who started this whole thing. You didn’t tell me you were the one who made Into Eden.”

Sunghoon shrugs, his mood shifting. “It never came up. Besides, Heeseung took the proverbial role of leader a long time ago, anyway.”

You shake your head, picking at your food. “I bet everyone would give you more of a lead if you proved you could handle the responsibility.”

Sunghoon is taken aback, there’s no doubt about that. When has he not been serious and responsible about his commitment to the band, save for the past year?

Sure, he hasn’t made great decisions recently, especially with his new…habit, simply put. But he’s never stopped caring, no matter how the tabloids turned on him or Heeseung overshadowed him when he began to fall short.

Maybe he needs to put some good will back in, even if he feels justified for being jaded at this point in his career.

Wanting to turn the tide of the conversation, Sunghoon spots a random guitar in the studio and grabs it eagerly. He sits back down with a newfound interest, plucking the strings to ensure it’s in tune.

You laugh and stuff the crumb-filled wrapper in the bag. “Avoiding the subject, I see.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon defends himself. “When I see a guitar, it’s only natural to play it.” He strums a few chords, satisfied. “Have any requests?”

You lift your shoulders, intrigued.

Sunghoon begins playing the opening strings of Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova.” It’s a bittersweet song, one with a beautiful instrumental but somber lyrics. Seems fitting for the man playing it somehow.

He begins to sing the first lines, the fried timbre of his vocals lulling you into a state of relaxation. By the introduction of the first chorus, you’re singing along with him, matching his tone with your saccharine harmonies.

It makes the crowd around you pause to look on for a moment, mesmerized at two stars seeming to shine at the same second. They must resign it to fate, two talents coming together in music and love, unaware of the reality of your situation.

Or maybe, they see the shades of something blossoming that you and Sunghoon have yet to recognize yourselves.

You flip through the newest issue of Vogue, excited to read Sunghoon’s part of the interview. It takes a handful of turns before you make it to the spread, the interview intertwined with shots of Heeseung and Sunghoon clad in V-necks and leather jeans. Their outfits coincide with the grunge aesthetic. You flip through the discussion about their newest album, “Under the Sun,” until one specific segment catches your eye.

VOGUE: So, it’s safe to assume this new album is about dedication, or the commitment, to one’s desires. It shows in your new single off this album, “All For You,” as you said Heeseung, but how do you feel about it Sunghoon?

PSH: I agree with Hee a hundred percent. Sometimes you don’t realize how devoted you are to something or someone until you’re caught in the middle of it. And sometimes that can be beautiful and intoxicating, a reason to go on that keeps you alive in so many ways.

VOGUE: I sense something or someone on your mind besides the album.

PSH: You could say that.

You left hours before the boys began their interview. It could’ve been a million things on his mind when the writer made note of his reaction, but you know the online forums and fandoms must be exploding over the snippet.

“Whatcha reading?” Ningning asks. She walks into your kitchen, looking for a cup to fill with ice water. She may live a few apartments down, but she never fails to use her status as the youngest to barge in whenever she wants.

You show her the front cover when she turns her head back in your direction. “His new article just came out.”

“Any mentions of his new love affair?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you threaten to throw the magazine at her head.

“Drop it already, Ning! It’s not real anyway.”

“Come on. The guy is cute, you’re cute, have some fun with it!”

“I would if he didn’t have so many walls up.”

“Like you don’t?” Ningning tests the waters, the air suddenly thick with tension. “You’re always so serious. You know we love you, but you never let yourself loosen up.”

You sigh and drop the magazine on the counter. “There’s a lot of responsibilities on the line. I can’t just shuck them whenever I want.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to worry every second about them, or about us. Let go sometimes, babe.”

Before you can respond, your doorbell rings. You’re both surprised, not expecting anyone to show up today, but you answer the door anyway.

Sunghoon stands before the threshold with a bag of takeout and a shy smile. His eyes are not bloodshot, his outfit looks purposefully put together, and his posture tells you he’s on a mission. “Figured since you brought food last time, I oughta return the favor.”

Ningning saunters up behind you with a smirk, arms still crossed. “Speak of the devil.”

“Easy, that’s not me,” he jokes. “Probably more of an associate.”

Ningning laughs and takes the cue to exit the apartment. “Have fun, you two, but not too much fun!”

You press your hand to the back of your neck, the heat on your cheeks rising at an alarming rate. “Didn’t know we were supposed to meet today.”

“We weren’t,” he admits.

A corner of your mouth quirks up. “I thought whatever we did in our private time was our business. You’re using the space in your schedule to hang out with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sunghoon bops you on the nose with his index finger and drops the bag of takeout on the counter. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I got a little bit of everything. Wontons, crab rangoons, egg rolls…I guess I kinda went overboard, didn’t I?”

You shake your head, the other part of your mouth turning up until your face cracks into a full-blown smile. The uncertainty on his face, the wind-swept hairdo covering a part of his eyes, the rapid motions of his hands taking the containers of food out of the bag.

In any other circumstance, you would consider this an awkward but real first date. And because your heart is not functioning in tandem with your head, you feel the flutters in your stomach all the same. “I’ll eat whatever you brought.”

The sun sets into the clouds surrounding the apartment complexes near yours, the high-rise bathed in orange and yellow hues from the day coming to a close. Your stomach is still overwhelmingly full from the food Sunghoon brought over, but you’re in a comfortable space as you both sit on your couch together watching another episode of New Girl.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon turns to you, his smile not meeting his eyes. “‘S a free country. But I get to ask you one also. Quid pro quo and all that.”

You ponder how to word your next sentence, not wanting to cross an unspoken boundary. “Why did you start using drugs?”

He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Honestly, I didn’t know the reason until I stopped taking them a few weeks ago…when we started this thing. It helped to take the edge off of things, off of me always worrying about how I was measuring up to Hee. And then they just helped with everything else, until they didn’t.”

Your heart aches at his answer, the explanation one you did not expect to be so in-depth. Like most starlets and singers at your age, it just seemed to be around and available to take whenever you wanted. Not that you or any of the girls in PrismHeart partook, but it was still there.

You didn’t realize that his proclivity started from a place of genuine need for something else. Anything else, if it meant he could escape.

“My turn,” Sunghoon says, turning his full attention to you on the couch. “Why do you never let yourself relax?”

His question and Ningning’s words haunt the deep recesses of your brain in an instant, the unspoken fears inside of you coming to a head as you try to create an answer. “Being able to sing professionally has been something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. I guess somewhere deep inside I’m worried if I don’t take it seriously, I’ll lose it forever.”

Sunghoon ruminates on your answer before he traces the outline of your hand with his fingers, the touch setting off sparks on your skin. “We’re more alike than I thought.”

You laugh and throw the pillow under your back at him. “What? It’s not like I’m a robot or something.”

He chuckles and stands up from the couch. “Okay, well, either way, we need to liven the mood again.” Sunghoon scrolls through a playlist on his phone and finds a song that immediately makes his face lighten up. “Perfect.”

He connects his phone to your Bluetooth speakers, the guitar riff of The Darkness’s “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” cutting through the silence from moments before.

“What the hell-“

“Stop thinking for five minutes and dance with me or so help me God.” His eyebrows quirk up in an unspoken challenge, and before you can stop yourself and use your logical brain to think first and then decide, you’re up off of your feet with your best cockney accent to match the lead singer’s tone.

You may be off key and breathless, and Sunghoon may look ridiculous as he riffs on an air-guitar, but it’s the first night in years where you’ve truly felt free. No obligations or restrictions are there to stop you from doing what you please.

That night when you go to sleep, you save the ridiculous song to your Apple Music account and think about Sunghoon’s smile before shutting your eyes.

The flash of cameras is nothing new, especially on a red carpet. What adds a unique dynamic to the situation is Sunghoon standing by. He watches you pose for the cameras, the press doting over you for a shot of your outfit and presence at Into Eden’s album launch party.

His eyes on you burn brighter than the lights strung across the space. You blush to yourself and keep smiling for the multitudes of paparazzi. The next minute, Sunghoon puts a hand on the small of your back gently to lead you in the direction of the club a dozen feet or so away.

“Sunghoon, one picture! Just one!”

You turn your eyes to him and press two fingers to your neck, feigning it off as nervousness in front of the public. Sunghoon smirks and pulls you into his chest, letting the vultures beg for more as he holds you close.

He puts a hand up to say goodbye and walks away with you, palms intertwined. Even as you enter the club, seeing Heeseung and his girlfriend Ryujin waiting for you both, Sunghoon doesn’t let go.

“Do you want a drink?” Sunghoon asks, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“No thank you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Sunghoon?” Ryujin asks, mystified at his newfound etiquette.

“He’s still around, Ryu. Just trying to be on his best behavior for once.” Sunghoon ruffles her hair before walking away to greet Jay at the bar riddled with executives.

She huffs and fixes the flyaways Sunghoon caused, but smiles at you when she’s done. “Whatever you’re doing to him, keep it up. I haven’t seen him this way in forever.”

Clearly Ryujin’s not aware of the circumstances of yours and Sunghoon’s relationship, but something has changed in him both in and out of the public eye. Many posts and headlines showcased your numerous outings and discreet meetups in the weeks you’ve spent together. However, there were more moments shared between you that the public had no insight on.

Nights in the recording studio, rehearsals for PrismHeart that turned into goofing off between the both of you, and rides on his motorcycle that almost made your head spin.

It’s hard to tell now where the truth stops and the lies begin, and vice versa. How can you tell yourself the smiles that he gives you aren’t genuine? How do you respond to Ryujin without feeling like your answers are coming from the depths of your heart?

“Babe, there’s that director! Let’s go say hi!” Ryujin runs over to the eponymous man with her hand tightly wrapped around Heeseung’s. He smiles apologetically before being stolen away.

You wait for Sunghoon to come back, but not before you witness Yujin and Jungwon linked arm in arm, followed by the last two people you expected to show up tonight.

Jake’s hair is newly dyed, the ash blond of his hair striking under the lights of the club. He doesn’t notice you, only shakes hands with Jungwon and continues on his path to the bar. His date and Sunghoon’s ex Yeji has her body wrapped tightly around his, even as they walk through the crowds of people.

It’s been months since you last saw him, and in spite of your desire to stay and show your pride for Sunghoon and his newest album, you want nothing more than to run out of the club and never come back. Your heartbeat quickens, the thumps of it rattling your chest with no guarantees it’ll calm down.

Like a magnet, Sunghoon is by your side immediately and looking into your eyes with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s here. Yeji’s with him.”

Sunghoon scans the crowd and lands on the two at the bar. Jake catches the younger man’s eyes and lifts his drink in congratulations, a smug smirk on his face.

Before he can walk over to the idiot’s spot, you hold onto his arm tightly to stop him. “He’s not worth it, Hoon. Trust me.”

Sunghoon knew enough of your history with the C-list actor from your own admissions and your friend’s anecdotes to want to kick the guy’s teeth in. Jake didn’t just make it harder for you to make your relationship a priority in your life, but he made every issue between the two of you your fault somehow.

And as far as Sunghoon could tell, no-one could be more devoted to the things that mattered to them than you.

“Why the fuck would he show up here?” Sunghoon asks nobody in particular, still fuming at the man’s audacity and his effect on your wellbeing. “The least I can do is show him the door.”

“No, please.” You grip onto the lapels of Sunghoon’s suit jacket, emphasizing your need to have him close. If he leaves you, you might fall apart. “Dance with me?”

Sunghoon’s anger transforms, lightly scoffing at your request with a soft smile to follow. “I don’t think this song is good to dance to, love.”

The term of endearment makes your knees weak, the word on his lips making your fingers tremble against the fabric of his jacket. Yes, the remix of one of Into Eden’s new songs “No Doubt” is more suited for a mosh pit than a couple wanting to dance, but you don’t care. “Dance with me anyway.”

You lead him to the center of the club. Both your worlds look on as you hold him close and try to match the rhythm of the remix. It’s a pointless endeavor, the beat changing right when you think you’ve mastered it. Your attempts to follow make Sunghoon smile. “If it helps, I’m not a big fan of this version of the song. Glad it’s just a B side track.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You rest your head on his chest, deciding to sway softly instead of thinking about the music pumping or the strangers’ passing glances.

“I think we’re breaking rule number two, love,” Sunghoon whispers into the crown of your head.

You move to stare up at him, running two fingers to the side of his neck exposed over the collar of his shirt. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

In the haze of blinding lights and blank faces, Sunghoon’s is the only one that matters as he bends down and presses your lips to his.

In contrast to the first kiss you ever shared, this one is not entwined with alcohol or unwelcome shock. It’s ingrained with weeks worth of tension and words that you could not read before, the lines between your agreement now crystal clear.

You gladly accept his mouth on yours, your body on fire when his tongue touches the roof of your mouth. His hands slip down to the curve of your hips, squeezing the skin through the confines of your clothes.

The sounds of shuttering cameras and surprised voices intercut with the music are of no priority to you. All that matters is that this kiss never ends. That the feelings you’ve been harboring never have to be concealed again.

Sunghoon walks into Jay’s office with a heavy heart, unsure how to present the situation he will unfold to his manager. He’s been ducking your calls and texts, unsure how to go about his next moves before discussing his predicament with the person he trusts the most in this world, save for Heeseung.

“I could kiss you!” Jay says when he sees Sunghoon walk in, pointing at him with pure glee.

“Please don’t,” Sunghoon responds.

“Streams of ‘All for You’ hit an all-time peak last night, the projected numbers are predicting this record to be your best selling one since the first album, and you’re a golden boy in the press again!” Relief washes over Jay’s face, the success of his plan evident in the easy posture of his body. “Not gonna say I’m a god, but I'm definitely a genius.”

Sunghoon claps his hands together, giving his manager the praise he deserves. “That’s great, Jay. Really.”

“You should be happy, man! We’re on the straight and narrow again. Now I just have to come up with some sweet and easy way to end the whole thing and we’re good to go.”

Sunghoon wants to interject, but Jay continues on with his thoughts, letting them run free out loud. “It should be pretty easy. Just gotta find another event to have you guys attend and then we’ll pull the plug—“

“Jay, I can’t.” Sunghoon blurts out the three words that have been on his mind since he walked into the label’s building. His heart rests in his throat as he holds nothing back. “I like her. Really.”

Jay stops walking around the room and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He blows the hair in front of his face, puzzled. “Well, that’s a pickle.”

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sunghoon admits, because it’s the truth. He never intended on actually finding you endearing, funny, attractive, all the positive adjectives he can come up with in his mind. “And then the album party happened…and I just can’t.”

Jay sits down at his desk, his face becoming a mask of professionalism. “You know that’s not possible, Sunghoon. I mean, think about it. She has her band, you have yours. It would be a disaster trying to keep it up. The only reason Hee and Ryu are still together is because she isn’t involved in any of this shit.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, vaguely listening to his manager’s words but not giving them weight. “You don’t know her like I do.”

Jay shrugs. “You may be right. But you could barely handle a relationship, real or fake, when this started. Do you think a real one is manageable right now?”

Sunghoon leans back into the armchair, some of his manager’s words hitting too close to home to deny. Would he truly be able to keep a true relationship with you alive when he was always under public pressure and eventual scrutiny?

Sunghoon walks out of the office with more questions than answers, more unsure than he was before.

You sit in your bed, undecided on whether you should try to text Sunghoon again or not. The downpour outside reminds you of the onslaught of emotions pooling in your gut, a mixture of hurt and anxiety weighing heavy on your heart.

He kisses you because you both wanted him to and then he decides to leave you without a single word for days? What kind of sense does that make?

Yujin and Ningning want to cut his heart out with a rusty knife, but you assure them you’re as confused as he probably is, unsure where to go from this point forward.

If only he could give you some signal he’s still alive, you would feel more at ease.

A knock at your door makes you run to answer it, expecting Ningning to show up with Sour Patch Kids and the newest film on your To Be Watched list. “Ning, you better have ‘Bend It Like Beckham’ in your hand or you’re not coming in!”

You open the door to Sunghoon soaked through from the rain. “Sorry I came empty handed.” Sunghoon trails his eyes down your body, smirking at the Hello Kitty pattern of your cotton shirt and shorts. “Nice outfit.”

You shake your head, incredulous that he’s at your door without any word to warn you. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he says honestly. He walks through the door and makes you back into the hallway wall. His wet body traps you against him and the walkway. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

He chuckles, swiping his wet hair off his face. “I know, I’m an idiot.”

“And a jerk.”

“And a jerk,” he parrots, eyes full of sincerity. “But I want to be better for you. I want to be worthy of being yours.”

The confession makes your body buckle. The breath that was still in your lungs escapes in one gust from your lips. How can he think he isn’t worth it after all the vulnerability he’s shown you? “You already are, Hoon.”

He places his hands on either side of your face tenderly, his mouth inching closer. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You mirror his expression, covering his hands with your own. “I might have been told that once or twice.”

His lips collide with yours, the action soft but the emotions charged behind the kiss heavy. Where that kiss in the nightclub was chaste compared to this one, you can only imagine how the rest of the night will play out.

Sunghoon discards his jacket onto the floor, your hands automatically sliding across his damp shoulder blades. Your touch makes him shudder, a moan escaping his throat. “You’re so warm.”

You smirk. “My bed’s warmer.”

The tangle of clothes and tongues leads to your position in his lap on your bed, the comforter discarded somewhere in the rush to get him to sit down and hold you closer.

Your body writhes against his, his pants the only thing left that he’s wearing. He holds you tighter against him, groaning against your lips. “Fuck, are you trying to get me to come already?”

You blush and kiss his neck. “Wasn’t my intention, but I don’t mind.”

Sunghoon chuckles. He flips you onto your back on the mattress, taking your bra off to reveal your breasts. Your nipples perk up once the air hits your skin, and Sunghoon can’t fight the groan that escapes his lips. “You’re fucking beautiful. I could stare at your tits all day.”

Most compliments make you feel like the person giving them is obligated to, not because it’s true. But when you hear such explicit thoughts leave Sunghoon’s mouth, you believe every word he says.

He covers your body with his own, taking one nipple into his mouth as he kneads the neglected breast with one hand. Expertly, he uses his other hand to slide into your underwear, finding your clit in record time.

He swirls his index and middle finger around the bud, using your essence that has already pooled in your panties as lubricant.

You mewl, grasping Sunghoon’s hair in your fingers for purchase on something, anything. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Sunghoon releases your nipple with a pop, his mouth trailing up the valley of your breasts to stop at your lips. “I’m not done yet, darling.”

Suddenly, he has both hands pulling your underwear down your legs, leaving the fabric dangling on the curve of your ankle. He wastes no time settling his face at the apex of your thighs.

He kisses your clit, making your body buck into his face at the quick act. By the time his tongue is inside of you, prodding deliciously at your walls, you’re practically at the brink of an orgasm.

“You like that?” Sunghoon asks, his voice wicked against your pussy, the vibrations of his mouth reverberating against your skin. “Like how I stretch you open, love?”

You nod vigorously. “Yes, Hoon, you know I do.”

He licks a long stripe up your center, from your perineum to the hood of your clit. “I have to be inside you right now, darling. But I promise, I’ll make you come on my tongue later.”

You clench down on nothing, eager to have his body conjoined with yours. He takes his jeans and boxers off in one motion, his cock long and thick. You want nothing more than to take him in your mouth, feel the taste of him on your lips, but you’re too excited for what’s to come when you look in his devilish eyes.

He settles on top of you once again, certain he’s prepped you enough for him to enter you. He looks into your eyes for confirmation, and you kiss his lips to emphasize your eagerness.

He slips inside without issue, his girth stretching you more than his tongue did. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a curse flying from your mouth when he fills you completely.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice anchored to the skin of your neck. He can practically see the outline of himself on your lower belly protruding through the skin. “Feel all of me.”

His hips push himself in and out of you, his tempo slow and torturous. The rational part of you thinks he’s only doing this for your comfort, but you know him better than most deductions of logic.

Sunghoon knows you want him to go faster from the feeling of your nails digging into his back and your moans in the shell of his ear. But because he loves to tease, he’ll drag this out for as long as he can.

Until he hears you beg for more, that is. And you don’t mind groveling for what you want.

“Hoonie,” you plead, trying hard to meet his hips with your own for more force. “Please fuck me harder.”

Sunghoon kisses your forehead before saying, “Flip over for me, love. All fours.”

You do as he commands. Once you’re in an acceptable position, he slams himself inside of you.

The tempo barely compares to the previous one, giving you no time to do anything but relish in the pistoning of his hips as they make contact with yours. He smacks your ass for good measure, a moan escaping from your lips as he rubs the reddening skin.

“You wanted this,” He reminds you, smacking your other cheek harder as he drills himself in and out of you without any sense of stopping. “Wanted me to ruin you like a good little doll.”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg, stuffing your face into your pillow.

“None of that, my love.” He takes your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head from the bed. “Want everyone to hear how good you feel, how well you’re being fucked. And I want them to know how beautiful you sound when you come.”

You’re limp by the time your orgasm rushes through you, your body wrecked to no end as you’re bathed in ecstasy.

“Holy shit,” you mewl, still feeling the aftershocks.

Sunghoon continues on with his relentless attention, his speed not letting up. He moves you against him and vice versa as he pleases, seeing the white coating of your essence on his cock as it disappears inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want me to come?” He asks, unsure how much longer he can hold it in.

“Inside of me, please.”

Don’t have to tell him twice.

A groan rips from Sunghoon’s throat as he releases inside of you, knowing his entire load is painting you white. If only he could see it, see how much of him is a part of you now.

He runs his hands up and down your body when you both come down from your highs. He kisses the reddened skin of your backside as he drags a washcloth between your legs, making sure not to overstimulate you in the process of cleaning you up.

You stare at each other, both in lingering rapture as well as disbelief. He hums a song into your ear as your eyelids flutter closed, the gravel in his voice the perfect lullaby.

You wake up the next morning to Sunghoon playing the chorus of “Wonderland,” PrismHeart’s first hit on the Top 100. You grin to yourself, holding the comforter close to your chest. “Trying to record that music video was such a pain.”

Sunghoon turns and smiles at your awoken form, putting the guitar against your side table. He takes you into his arms, kissing the top of your forehead. “How so?”

“They wanted us to do this themed shoot. White rabbits, decks of cards, me dressed as Alice. But every time the director tried filming the segment where we all went down the rabbit hole, it just kept going wrong.” You laugh and run your fingers across Sunghoon’s chest.

He chuckles and kisses your shoulder. “They didn’t think to try a different concept out?”

You shook your head. “We all agreed on it. Besides, the story is actually one of the inspirations for the songs. I read a lot of Lewis Carroll growing up, but I always loved ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ the most.”

Sunghoon runs his lips across your neck, his hand tracing circles into your waist. “A beautiful girl lost in her fantasies. Sounds nice,” he whispers, his breath creating delicious waves of heat across your skin.

It still doesn’t feel real, having him so close and naked against you in your bed. It could be a dream, one action of your subconscious playing on your deepest desires. And if that were true, you wish you would never come out of it, too happy for words to express.

When Sunghoon slips under the covers and between your legs once again, you wonder if the faraway place that held your dreams could hold a space for Sunghoon too.

It only takes one weekend for your happiness to come crashing down. Whatever you and Sunghoon were building is destroyed, all in the span of seventy-two hours.

Sunghoon is helping you cook a plethora of pancakes when your front door opens in a slam. Yujin and Jungwon bust through with worried expressions.

“You guys haven’t seen it, have you?” Yujin asks, frown lines etched on the sides of her mouth. She hands you her phone, and you and Sunghoon look over the article headline on the screen.

“‘INTO EDEN’ & ‘HEARTPRISM’ CAUGHT IN DATING SCHEME? IS IT REAL OR JUST FOR SHOW? EXCLUSIVE INSIDER TELLS ALL!”

Sunghoon pulls out his phone to call Jay, stalking into your bedroom. The conversation immediately bursts into a screaming match, the sounds of Sunghoon’s anger apparent.

“I swear to God, Jay, if you don’t find out whoever leaked this shit, I’m gonna have your head on a plate right next to theirs.”

Yujin and Jungwon grow quiet. With the news shared, your friend hugs you and walks out the door with Jungwon in tow.

Sunghoon throws his phone onto your bed and walks back over to you, clearly worn out from the information he told Jay and the facts that were given to him by his manager.

You give him a close-lipped smile and envelop him into a hug. Sunghoon strokes your hair as you promise him, “It can be fixed, Hoon, and it will.”

A few days and one interview later prove that in spite of your hopes, not all things are fixable.

Jay sets up a quick interview with Buzzfeed under the guise of discussing the new album. Everyone knows the sole reason for its existence is to quell the rumors of your false romance. It started that way, yes, but that doesn’t mean you or Sunghoon have to divulge that information to the public.

Heeseung and Sunghoon discuss the inspiration for their songs and the creative process behind the album. And when the questions come up regarding the rumors, Sunghoon plays them off with a smile.

“I’m not desperate enough to need to fake a relationship with anyone! How stupid would I have to be to do that?”

The interviewer quirks an eyebrow. “Are you saying your girlfriend was desperate to date you?”

“All I’m saying is that she pursued me that night in the club, and I was more than happy to see where it would go. And as they say, the rest is history.”

Heeseung looks at Sunghoon with wild eyes, his face practically screaming: That’s the best answer you could come up with?

When Sunghoon comes to your door that night to explain himself and how his words got twisted after the fact, you open the door only to throw the jacket he left in your apartment in his face.

“Desperate,” you seethe. “That’s the word you thought best described me, huh? So I guess I’m also stupid enough to want to date you, too?”

“No, I didn’t say that! I didn’t say any of those things!”

“So the interviewer was lying? Just another person or thing out to get you, right Sunghoon? When will you take responsibility for once and own up to the shit you said about us, about me?”

The girls huddle behind you as the tears stream down your face. “Just leave me alone, Sunghoon. Get away from me, use this as the out you wanted since day one.”

You slam the door in his face, not bothering to address the fist that slams into your door or Sunghoon’s pleas for the two of you to work this out.

His heart shatters from the force of his mess, a mess that not another soul can be blamed for but him.

Weeks roll by into painful silence, not a single exchange shared. You blocked him on all social media in hopes to avoid taglines of your name in relation to Sunghoon, but it’s of no use. The time comes where the girls have to keep your phone away in hopes you’ll stop searching online for comments related to the Buzzfeed article. “Babe, it’s not gonna do you any good,” Yujin sighs, powering off the device.

You nod, resigning yourself to the fact that whatever relationship you had is over, and there was no way to prevent it. You could not control or change Sunghoon anymore than he could change himself, and unfortunately, he was still in the process of doing so and shattered your heart in the quest to be a better man.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, tries everything to repair what he’s destroyed. He pleads with Jay to make contact through Momo, but his hands are tied. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, man. If I keep pestering Momo she’s going to have my ass, and not in a fun way. I’m sorry.”

The first few weeks of the tour comes and goes in a haze, Into Eden beginning their string of tour dates up and down the eastern coast of America. The only time Sunghoon is coherent enough to remember anything is in the mornings before he falls into another night of misery. He doesn’t go back to his usual routine of drugs and booze, keeping his promise religiously. Instead, he goes on in a blur, playing his instrument and performing his parts of the songs without a hitch.

He may not be happy, but at least he’s doing something he‘s always been meant to do.

One afternoon of rehearsals, Sunghoon decides to use his break time on the roof to his advantage. The sounds of the city, its car horns and speeding pedestrians, keep him sane for once in a long time.

Of course, Heeseung has to ruin the solitude with his presence. “Sunwoo said I’d find you up here.”

“Sunwoo needs to learn to shut his mouth and focus on sound mixing,” Sunghoon grumbles, strumming the electric guitar in his lap and avoiding Heeseung’s gaze.

Heeseung sighs and sits next to his best friend. Both of their legs dangle over the edge of the building as they take in the bird’s eye view of New York City. “If you want to fix things, you just have to tell her how you feel.”

“Thanks, Yoda. Where would I be without you?”

Heeseung laughs at the young man’s ridiculous attitude, Sunghoon’s stubbornness unbroken since they became friends. “Just because you may not like my advice doesn’t mean I won’t give it to you.”

“What nuggets of wisdom could Mr. Perfect give me that I haven’t heard a thousand times over?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Heeseung runs a hand over his face, mystified at Sunghoon’s words. “I don’t know where or when you got this notion in your head that my life is perfect, but it’s complete bullshit.”

“Look at you and look at me, Hee. Everyone has said it for years. How much more talented you are, how much better you handle the spotlight compared to me, the list goes on and on.”

Heeseung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Ryujin and I almost broke up last year.”

Sunghoon looks at his best friend, stunned. “Fuck, really?”

His best friend nods. “The last album’s release…I was never home. Ryujin kept getting on my case about us not spending time together, and we took a break for a few weeks. Once I realized how dumb it was for us to be fighting in the first place, things went back to normal. Well, normal and one relationship counselor later.” Heeseung sighs. “Jay kept it quiet from everyone, including you.”

“You could’ve told me,” Sunghoon says, guilty he had no clue.

“I know. But everyone has their secrets, just like you.” Heeseung emits another breath from the depths of his lungs. “I’m glad you know now, though.”

Sunghoon nods. The reality of what he’s done, coupled with the fact he’s spent so long misunderstanding one of the only people to love him so earnestly, hits him hard. Against his will, a few tears escape his eyes. “I really fucked up, Hee.”

Heeseung takes Sunghoon by the shoulder and makes Sunghoon look him in the eyes. “Then fix it. And let me help you.”

Sunghoon smiles, his first real smile in weeks. “How?”

Heeseung smirks. “I may not be as good at making plans as Jay, but I have a few ideas.”

The arena is alive with the sounds of the audience chanting and the instrumental intro to “All for You” exploding from the main stage and stadium speakers. Sunghoon tries to brush off his sudden nerves, the gravity of what he’s about to do shaking him to the core. It could go terribly wrong or do nothing to fix his problems, but he has to try, right?

Heeseung puts his hand on Sunghoon’s back, his bandmate providing the reassurance and stable ground he needs. “You got this, Hoon.”

The two men step on stage, the crowd screaming an octave higher when they take their instruments off their stands. Sunghoon raises a hand, motioning for the band to go quiet and the audience to silence their cheers.

“As you know, a few months ago I met a person that really matters to me. I want her and all of you to know that she still does. And if she’s listening somewhere tonight, she should know that this is for her.”

Sunghoon begins playing the first chords of the song he’s written, nobody but Heeseung and the band aware of this change in the setlist. “This isn’t off of our new album, but I hope you all like it. It’s called ‘Lost in Wonderland.’”

Sunghoon begins the song on his guitar, Heeseung following behind him with backing vocals and a bass. The audience sways to the song, enraptured by the lyrics and melodies of the two musicians. Sunghoon pours his heart into the chorus, hoping by some luck that you’ll be able to hear this if nothing else.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Brooklyn, maybe I’ll see you in France. As long as the waves keep on rolling in. Things don’t always go the way they’re planned.

“Maybe I’ll see you in Jersey, maybe next year in Japan. Sometimes it’s so hard to find a friend, you’re the only one that just might understand.

“Lost in wonderland…”

By the time the final chorus rings out, the notes of Sunghoon’s guitar flying through the air gracefully, Sunghoon feels a million times lighter. All he can hope for now is that his plea will reach you amidst the sea of screaming fans.

Sunghoon runs off the stage as soon as the band finishes playing their last song, unable to hold his composure any longer. What stops him short from running to the green room is your face riddled with tears.

Sunghoon is unsure what to do next. Hold you in his arms and not let go, the last time he saw you being too long for him to accept as reality? Or confess what he said on stage was only a fragment of what he holds in his heart?

You beat him to the punch, your words coming out practically on top of each other. “Momo booked me a red eye to get here in time. She said Heeseung told her something had happened to you before the concert and—“

“I love you,” Sunghoon interrupts, the three words and eight letters no longer able to be kept inside of him.

You smile, eyes puffy but shining. Before you can ask him if what he just said is true, he repeats it until the words go stale, but they don’t. “I love you,” he says, “and I’m so sorry I made you think I didn’t.”

He runs to you immediately and kisses you with all the energy he has left in his body. The feeling of your mouth on his and your hands gripping tight onto his shirt fixes the part of him that broke the second you told him to get lost.

He knows he’ll never let you go again, never take you for granted for another second, and always remind you how much of you is home to him now.

When you part, you ask him, “Did you really write that song for me?”

Sunghoon smirks. “Every single line.”

You nod, running your thumb across his chin. “I love you, too.”

The resounding sound of the bustling audience leaving the venue and the crew packing up fills the background as you kiss Sunghoon again, making up for the time you lost, and preparing for all the times to come.

1 YEAR LATER

PrismHeart’s new album cover is plastered across the press wall. The red carpet is dyed neon pink to accentuate the colors of the title, “Love Language.” It’s a fitting name for the project in your opinion, many of the songs directly inspired by your personal life.

Yujin fusses with Jungwon’s suit once they’re away from the press wall, their matching ensembles making you smile. They’ve been together for as long as you and Sunghoon have at this point. Sharing your songs and thoughts for the newest record has been easy thanks to a fellow member being stupidly in love like you.

Sunghoon steps onto the carpet for his round of paparazzi photos. His suit and jewelry are completely black except for the shirt he picked out that coordinates with your dress. It may be too pink for his taste, but he’d do anything to make you happy, and he knows how to stay on theme for a special occasion.

You add on a few brownie points in your mind for how incredible he looks, the suit emphasizing the contours of his body that you know too well by now.

When Sunghoon’s done with his pap walk, he has to hold himself back from running to you and kissing you hard on the mouth. His composure hangs by a thread through seeing the top of your chest accentuated by the sweetheart neckline of your bubblegum pink dress.

He holds you close and kisses you on the cheek, a halfway point between what he should do and what he wants to do to you, the audience around them be damned.

The audience in question goes crazy when his lips linger on your cheek, the candid shot perfect for the slew of tabloids that will come out tomorrow.

“You look fucking incredible, just so you know,” Sunghoon whispers in your ear.

You smack him on the chest softly, beaming. “Language, Hoon!”

“Hey, forgive me. Words of affirmation and all, y’know. My love language.” He winks, and you chuckle into his chest.

“You and your dad jokes. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” he confesses, taking a free lock of hair between his fingers. “Very lucky.”

Before you can tell him you feel the same, you hear the sound of your name on an interviewer’s lips. You walk hand in hand with Sunghoon to greet her before she begins her parade of commentary, both of you all smiles as you discuss your latest single.

The show must go on, the multitude of cameras and questions second nature by now. But with Sunghoon’s hand in yours and your heart completely his, you know that none of the fame will compare to the happiness that his love has brought to your life.

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