#nobody is required to come out publically | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atinystraynstay · 5 months

Text

I Don't Share - Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis: Jungkook was the one that proposed you should be friends with benefits. You both were single and had desires. Falling in love wasn't a part of the plan though.

Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook x Back up Dancer!fem reader

Genre: Smuttttt! Jealous, posessive Jungkook, friends with benefits - Minors DNI

Contains: public sex, mentions of eating out (f. receiving), light spanking (f. receiving), no protection vaginal sex, slight degradation, creampie, hair pulling

Word Count: 2.6k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You were given the opportunity of a lifetime. What started as a way to kill time during the pandemic quickly turned into you flying to South Korea to join BTS in their rehearsals for their Permission To Dance shows. A little over a year later, you were in rehearsals again for Jungkook's solo promotions with the release of his debut album, Golden. You didn't think your life could get better than this.

Never before would you think that your dance studio closing to meet shutdown requirements would grant you the opportunity of a lifetime. Or that you would meet the guy of your dreams.

Jungkook was around your age, so it was easy for you two to get along. You often would spend late nights going over and over the dance routine for performances and the filming of upcoming music videos. His manager would often ask if he wanted a ride home, but Jungkook would always come up with an excuse.

"No, I'm ok. I want to make sure my hyungs are proud of me when they can finally see this!" Which often made the staff smile that he wanted to make his members proud.

Another one often was along the lines of - "No, thank you though. I am just stuck on this one part of the choreography and I think I'm finally getting it down. I will call security to make sure I get home." He promised every single time to use the resources at the company, but he never did.

He always opted to take Uber rides with you. At first, it was because Jungkook liked being able to talk to someone around his age. He had a solid group of friends, but you were new. Coming from the United States, he wanted to know what it was like to be a 20-something-year-old making it work.

The two of you often shared after practices drinks and meals. "You know, we have to nourish our bodies well. Jin-hyung taught me that well."

Quickly though, his hunger turned into something else. Getting to know you, getting to watch how your hips moved with ease, he began to grow hungry for your pussy. Jungkook was a very competitive guy, and he was determined to be the best at fucking you until you see the stars. He wanted to make you cum and scream until you forgot your name, until you questioned your ability to walk after.

Meals quickly turned into eating you out at your apartment. To be fair, it was his favorite meal of the day. He loved getting down on his knees for you, spreading them wide, and exposing you to him. Only or him. He often liked to blow cool air on your pussy to watch you squirm underneath his touch.

Jungkook thrived on knowing the reaction he could pull out of you. He liked knowing you whimpered and begged for him to lick your pussy, to suck on your clit as if his life depended on it. And if you begged well, he would reward you by sliding two of his fingers into your pussy.

Dance practices weren't the only reason why he would come over. If a recording session didn't go well, you offered comfort by letting him bend you and pound into your pussy. Afterwards, you would always talk about how he was feeling but you quickly learned that Jungkook preferred letting his frustrations out physically rather than verbally at first.

There were just a few more performances left for the group. Everyone knew that Jungkook would be enlisting soon, so nobody was taking it for granted. Every dance, every member of the crew, and Jungkook himself were basically putting their all into every dance practice, dress rehearsal, and performance.

You were currently sitting criss-cross on the dance practice floor, your water bottle resting in your lap. Your thumb moved your TikTok FYP up every once in a while. There was a 30 minute break, allowing some people to go grab lunch while others were taking a minute to just relax.

"So, y/n, did you know someone here in Korea before you moved?"

There was often conversation floating among the dancers. Down time and hanging outside of practice were opportunities to get to know one another, and do a little networking. With the days narrowing down on this contract, you were beginning to consider your options. Part of you wanted to go back home, to reunite with family, but you also were having the time of your life here.

Hearing your name, you locked your phone and set it on the floor. There were a few others who joined you on the floor, in their own worlds until the current conversation started. You felt all eyes on you as the question was directed to you.

"No, I actually didn't," You laughed. A year ago, you never would have had the courage to move across the world by yourself. Being here now, you knew it was the best decision. "So a good dancer, a risk taker, beautiful," one of the male dancers began to list.

You blushed at the compliment. One thing that has changed is your struggle to accept compliments. You knew he meant well, but it didn't stop you feeling as if your face had gotten incredibly hot.

"You've got to have a partner, right? Meet someone here in Korea? I mean, Korean men know how to treat you right," he winked.

You heard one of the female dancers scuff. She rolled her eyes at his words, shaking her head towards the two of you. "Don't listen to him. Stay away from Korean men," she warned before going back to eat her salad.

"You're just upset still about your breakup," he muttered. Quickly, that was followed by a loud smack and laughter from the other members. You watched the one male rub his tender arm, apologizing to the woman to his right. Satisfied, she nodded in acknowledgement before going back to her lunch.

The male looked back at you, smiling sheepishly. "Anyways, are you single?" He asked. "You've never met up with us after practice for a quick drink."

Yeah, I normally can't go out because I'm getting railed by Jungkook after practice.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend back home?"

Decided to speak to yourself, you laughed as a way to break the conversation. Eager eyes were on you, wanting to know more about their American colleague.

"That's my bad for not showing face after practice. I normally get tired and want to go home. Sometimes I'm even here practicing a bit more just to make sure I'm as good as you all. I mean, you guys are professionals."

The group smiled wide at your kind words. You weren't sure how you'd fit in as an outsider, especially if you weren't sure if you were going to be staying or not. At the start of this job, you placed a huge amount of pressure to do well especially as you knew that so many people would do anything to be in your position. You wanted the company to be satisfied that they chose the right person.

"Well, now that it's known that we want you here. You are coming out with us tomorrow night." "Yes, you have to! We'll have to show you around the best parts of Seoul." "And hopefully get you with the best guy." "Or at least go home with the best guy."

Your cheeks turned pink again, which caused all the whole group to smile. How could life get any better?

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

The sun had already set by the time you got done with practice. Most of the group had left for the evening whereas you were packing up your duffle bag with all your belongings. While you were very much looking forward to tomorrow night, you always loved a night-in to yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if Jungkook would want to come over.

"You know, you really should be leaving here by yourself," a voice called out to you.

Startled, you looked over your shoulder to see Jungkook leaning against the practice room door. Speak of the devil. You placed one hand over your chest as your racing heart began to settle, very slowly that is.

"God, you fucking scared me."

He let out a laugh before coming into the room. You only could tell how he was moving by the sound of his laughter growing louder. "Sorry, doll, I couldn't help myself," he apologized. You hummed in amusement as you had your back turned towards him, trying to get the rest of your belongings together so you could leave. Because if he was ready to go, that meant that you were to.

You felt his hand ghost over your hip. Zipping up the duffle bag, you slowly stood up straighter to feel him right behind you. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against it. You shivered from the effect and with excitement.

"You seem to really be finding your place here," he said.

His voice was very smooth. He knew the effect he had on you, how you were basically wrapped around his finger. And he used it to his advantage. You were a bit confused as to where this was coming from.

"I mean, I overheard you making plans with the other dancers. I think that's good for you." His hand gently caressed your hip, the touch light as a feather. You were almost in a trance from it all. Just feeling his body heat radiate into your back sent a wave of warmth throughout you.

"But there is one thing I do not like." You were about to look over at him, but were cut off when his grip on you tightened. He yanked you back so you could feel his boner right up against his ass. You gasped in surprise which caused him to chuckle lightly. The laugh sending shivers done your spine. "I don't like sharing, angel."

Everything happened so suddenly. One minute, you were getting your duffle bag, the next you were being pinned against the mirrors of the dance studio. Jungkook's grip was tight enough to inform you he was in charge here, but loose enough to slip out if you felt uncomfortable. Yet, his gaze locked on you told you to stay put.

His breathing was a bit rigid, sensing emotions were coursing through his body. What was on his mind? You noticed his jaw was a bit clenched, almost as if he was contemplating what he was doing or his next move.

"Let me make it clear. You are not going home with anyone else besides me. You'll always come back to me."

Oh god, he overheard your conversation earlier. It was starting to make sense.

"I'll have to remind you if that's an issue." "Then mark me up and make me yours."

Jungkook's breathing hitched hearing you. He wasn't expecting such a response from you but it made him so damn weak. God, you were the death of him.

Not one to back down, he accepted your challenge.

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

Smack.

You whimpered loudly at the feeling of Jungkook's hand meeting your left asscheek. It was like an electric jolt. A bit painful, considering he has spanked you repeatedly throughout the evening, but also pleasurable because it made you feel alive. It honestly made you feel powerful.

Jungkook had you on your hands and knees. You were at the dance studio. You knew everyone had left but the thrill of someone potentially catching the two of you turned you on.

With one hand staying on your hip, Jungkook's other hand ran up your spine gently. His touch was still a stark contrast to the feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy. Each smack against your ass caused your walls to squeeze around his cock, sending the two of you into a chorus of moans.

His hips rammed into you from behind. It created a rhythmic sound of skin slapping, the two of you moaning, and how wet you were. The last sound caused your cheeks to heat up, much to Jungkook's satisfaction.

The hand on your spine gathered your hair. You were grateful you put it in a low ponytail during practice earlier. Jungkook pulled your head, causing you to hiss in response. The sweet sting of your hair being pulled made you crave more. The sudden movement also caused your eyes to become a bit glossy. Your head tilted back as you met his in the reflection of the mirror.

"Look at you," Jungkook asked. His mouth was curled into a sinister smirk. "You're crying over my cock. Is it not enough for you, hmm? Is that why you wanna go out to meet other guys?"

"No, Jungkook, fuck," he panted out. "You're all I want, all I need." "Oh yeah? Prove it. Cum on my cock. Show me that I really am the only one that can make you feel so damn good."

If it were possible, Jungkook increased his pace. You cried out in pleasure as the intensity of his brutal thrusting caused your arms to give out. You upper half of your body rested against the cool wood floor, causing your ass to move a bit up. Jungkook groaned in appreciation for the change. He couldn't help himself. Smack.

Your mind was hazy. You couldn't comprehend anything besides Jungkook's cock filling and stretching you out. Your vision was getting blurry from the tears beginning to fall as you felt that familiar tingling, warm sensation in your stomach.

In a matter of moments, your vision went white and your toes curled. You screamed out his name. His grip on your hips could be burned into your skin. You never wanted him to stop touching you. Jungkook groaned as his thrusts got harder, determined to meet you at your high. The world around you seemed to stand still while your head was in the clouds.

After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud groan. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, which sent you into a whimpering mess at the feeling. You felt so content. He also felt content seeing some of his cum spilling out of your pussy once he began to pull out.

He swore you've never looked more beautiful. All his.

Lips were being pressed against your spine. You didn't even register that your body had sprawled out onto the wooden surface until Jungkook gently moved you. Your head rested on his chest, your back on the floor. His hand ran up and down your lower back. His other hand reached up to wipe away any of your remaining tears.

You were bringing brought down to reality. You could register the sound of you two heavy breathing, the slight tremors of your body starting to subside. With your head pressed into Jungkook's chest, you could hear his once racing heart beat begin to steady itself.

"You won't forget about me, right?" "How could I ever forget about you?"

There was a pause. Jungkook was the type to usually have a response, or do something in response to what was said to him. Not this time.

You looked up at him, concerned as you knew something was bothering him. Unfortunately, you got confirmation when you were met with his own glossy eyes.

"Look, I know a lot is going to change over 18 months. I don't care if you stay here in Korea or you go back home. I don't like sharing, y/n, so just promise not to forget about me because I'll come back to you. Every single damn time." "I could never forget about you, Jeon Jungkook. I'll be waiting for you, regardless of what happens next."

2K notes · View notes

canmom · 10 months

Text

"don't post links to pirate sites" as a security through obscurity strategy seems... weak. if a pirate site is so obscure that almost nobody can find it, it's also essentially pointless.

but yes, if a pirate site is common knowledge, the feds will be working on destroying it. so the idea is i assume to achieve an intermediate level of obscurity, where you have to have a certain amount of talent for asking the right people or searching the right things to find it. but... whatever capacity for research you are asking people to have on that front, the feds are equally capable of it, and they have a whole lot more time on their hands for tracking down pirate sites! security through obscurity is a losing game for piracy. the perfect sweet spot where people can find your pirate resource but the feds cannot is something of a mirage.

if not that, than what?

the current piracy system involves a few different tiers of accessibility, and various components that are more or less decentralised.

torrents are the most resilient tech because to stamp out a torrent (with DHT enabled) you have to suppress every seed. so, you have big public torrent trackers like TPB; these are well known and rely on hopping domains and redundancy for security. the ratio of seeds to leeches tends to be low, but the number of users is large enough that there will be at least a few seeds out there for most stuff. torrent clients have gotten a lot better at seeding strategies that take into account your seed ratio and what's currently available in the swarm, so if you just leave everything on seed and open your torrent client fairly often (use a VPN though lol), you don't really need to think about it.

then you have private trackers; these operate on an invite basis. the problem with this is that when the pool of users is so small, the odds of a given seed being online are also small. to prevent torrents dying, they gamify it: you get points for seeding and if you don't have enough points you can't download anything until you seed more. to help people get back in the game there will be 'freeleech' events. being active on a private tracker takes a bit of work.

and of course you have to get in in the first place, which tends to require a proven track record of seeding on other private trackers, and some kind of interview with the operators. getting involved in private trackers is a much bigger ask, you have to figure out where to get your foot in the door, and work your way up to the more insular trackers. it's like a mini subculture. it's valuable, but not scalable.

at the top level of inaccessibility is the warez scene. this is a whole subject that i'm not even gonna get into, go read wikipedia. historically this is where the files actually come from, before getting distributed on public trackers, usenet etc. but good luck getting in there lmao, they are understandably quite paranoid.

of course, for stuff to get on pirate sites you need somebody to go the effort of ripping and encoding it. this is where a major point of failure exists. when RarBG went down recently, the biggest loss was not the existing archive of torrent links, which can be backed up - it was that they were very active at converting scene releases into torrents with a decent balance of file size and quality, which then filter out into the various public trackers. that is much harder to replace! but what killed RarBG wasn't even suppression by authorities - according to their statement, it was a bunch of the admins getting covid or dying or fighting in the Russia-Ukraine war, which made the whole operation impossible to continue. so despite the thousands of people who download RarBG torrents, this single point of failure was overstressed and broke.

as far as the ethics of spreading links to pirate sites go... if it's something like a mega drive, yeah, the chances of a takedown are pretty high if it gets noticed! no question. but those things are by nature short-lived; if you want to use that for archival you're building on sand. there's also databases like emuparadise, but there was no saving that through obscurity, it just took Nintendo a minute to bring the case.

in this kind of centralised case, the clock is ticking from day 1. what we want is to maximise the number of people who are able to save copies while it's up, and then some of those people can put it up again somewhere else and keep the authorities playing whack-a-mole. (for a small collection of files, a sensible measure would be to make a torrent and a mega drive side by side, so that people can download the mega drive and then add the torrent to their client to seed if it gets nuked.)

as for torrent sites, the thing is that torrents rely for effectiveness on a swarm that is either very large or very responsible about seeding. if it's a public tracker, it has to be well known or it's pointless. instead of security through obscurity, the form of security for these sites is try to make the resource itself hard to take down - operating the tracker/archive in countries that don't have copyright treaties, maintaining mirrors, and of course distributing as many seeds as possible so the torrent can stay alive even if the site goes down.

the major problem with a dead torrent site is discoverability. if it's harder to find the torrent, fewer people will download it, the existing seeds will gradually go offline, and of course you can't download a torrent that you don't know exists. and while you could imagine a system of broadcasting metadata about a torrent (title, encoding etc.) in a DHT-like way but that would be so vulnerable to fakes and spam. maybe some kind of cryptographically signed 'this torrent is good' declaration is possible? I know certain torrent clients tout discovery features, but honestly I don't know how well they work. I'm sure there are projects that are way ahead of the game than me on this question.

but yeah anyway trying to browbeat people into not sharing links to pirate media is 1. futile, by the time you see it the cat is out of the bag 2. not a sustainable strategy for security. if you wanna lecture people, 'use a VPN and seed your torrents' is evergreen ;p

#torrenting #piracy

3K notes · View notes

after-witch · 9 months

Text

Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Title: Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Synopsis: You're tasked with looking for Hisoka on the Black Whale. You get more than you bargained for.

Word count: 3800ish

notes: violent noncon, sexual assault, violence against reader, descriptions of blood and injuries, victim blaming against reader

It was not in your nature to question Chrollo Lucilfer, and you weren’t about to do it now. Even when there was a small, hard, resilient pit in your stomach that wondered if this was the right move. Or if perhaps you should have said something earlier, before everyone separated. It’s not as if Chrollo was ever unreasonable, but everything was for the good of the Spider and if that meant acquiescing to his decision in this case, when he seemed so intent.

He had asked you to allow him to keep your nen until Hisoka was found and dealt with, and you handed it over without a complaint. Of course you did. It was the first time he’d ever asked for your nen, and if you were willing to self-reflect a little deeper, you might admit that it was at least a little flattering.

You weren’t, you knew, the strongest (or even close to it) of the Spiders. You couldn’t mow down a group with a sweep of your arm or lift up an oncoming car and throw it into traffic. When it came to delegating who was leading the charge in a mission that required anything like that, you were certainly not at the front.

You weren’t helpless. You could hold your own in certain types of combat, of course. Nobody in the Troupe was weak against the typical combatants you personally came across. Over-eager mafia guards with faith in their guns; greedy non-combatants eager to buy priceless forbidden trinkets… all could be dealt with using the knife in your pocket or a hard, horrible kick to their neck, cracking the bones like an egg.

But if push came to shove with a nen user, well… there was a reason you were not typically sent out alone. Your own nen was useful to the Troupe, but for reconnaissance only. Once you encountered a person, you could immediately identify them through their body heat signature through any surface.

All you had to do was activate your nen and begin to search, and spot the particular pulsating colors assigned to your target. From there, the rest of the Troupe could do what they needed. Which, admittedly, often involved the gruesome demise of said target--then or later, tied to a chair after all the information had been cut out of them.

Maybe you weren’t the strongest fighter. But you were loyal to the death, and Chrollo knew that. It was an attribute that one must have, in order to be a proper spider. That’s what brought the lot of you to this godforsaken ship, after all, isn’t it?

But now you were left without your nen, without that distinct advantage that gave you the upper hand when it came to finding your target. Chrollo would put it to good use. And he needed it more than you, because you certainly weren’t going to kill Hisoka, even if you managed to find him.

If you did find him… well. You were stealthy. You would slink away and find one of the others and set a beautiful chain reaction in motion, one that ended up with Hisoka exactly where he belonged.

But first… to find him.

To call the Black Whale a “ship” was an understatement. It was not a ship. No, It was an entire country, teeming with life; with people, fights, loves, friends and so many dirty little secrets.

Hisoka was one of those dirty little secrets. He was somewhere on this ship, and come hell or high water, he would be found. By Chrollo. By the others. By you, perhaps. And he would be dealt with, as others had been in the past.

The only problem was--how in the hell were you going to find him?

WIthout your nen, you were left to rely on your natural senses. They were heightened of course, but that didn’t necessarily make it an easy task. There were thousands of people on this tier alone… crowds and crowds, weaving in and out of public areas, arguing over this and that, laughing, yelling, calling to so-and-so over the noise.

In theory, Hisoka should be easy to spot. He was tall. He was outrageous. He never failed to make a splash, appearance-wise. If he was walking in a crowd, it wouldn’t be impossible to spot him, if you were looking for him. Yet no matter what room you searched, how many faces you scanned, he wasn’t there.

You’d wondered, though, if he might have altered his looks before getting on the ship. Maybe he toned them down to avoid being too obvious.

He had to know that the Troupe would follow him. He wasn’t stupid. He was many things, yes, but never stupid.

You pass yet another common area--this one even dingier than the last, which seems to be the trend--that proves to be fruitless, filled with only groups of people in varying states. Some look tired or hungry or sick. Some are arguing. Some holding hands. Some yelling after one another to come-back-so-we-can-do-this-and-that.

But no Hisoka. The same as the other rooms, the other corridors. Countless people, blurry faces that you wouldn’t remember in a few seconds, none of them the person that you were desperate to find. If only you could see his damn body signature.

And really… but oh, the thought shouldn’t come to you, because Chrollo would not have brought any of you here (surely) were it not true. Yet here it comes anyway, slow and practical: Is Hisoka even on the ship?

You glance around you, taking in the mundane faces once more. He could be here. He could be in hiding. He could be in disguise.

Or he could be somewhere else entirely, and all of this was a trap meant to lure the Troupe onto the Black Whale. Or maybe he was--

“Found you~!”

There’s no time to react to the deceptively jovial nature of Hisoka’s voice before your body whips backward and your stomach lurches hard, yanked by the power of nen-induced gravitational forces that pull you completely against his chest and refuse to let you move forward.

But you’re not helpless, are you? No. Your hands move quickly, pulling out the knife in your pocket and preparing to jab straight into an artery. Chrollo might not be happy if Hisoka bled out here and now, but it’s better than letting him get away--alone or with you.

Hisoka is faster, and your knife is thrust out of your hand with a sticky sound. You can tell Hisoka is gripping the handle tightly when the point of the knife is pressed against your back. Not in subtle warning, but truly pressed, the point digging into your flesh with a flash of pain. You can feel blood trickling down, wetting against your shirt, where it will surely stick and stain.

“You never were the strongest, hm?” His voice is right in your ear, his breath a mixture of some sweet concoctions. Gum and candy and mints. “Why did dear Chrollo send you out alone…”

You feel your lips curl up in a sneer, for all the good it does you, but whatever insult your mind was going to conjure is lost when Hisoka lets off a soft little hum and begins to drag you--though the word is perhaps not quite correct, as you’re stuck to him with his damn Bungee Gum--away. All the while, the knife stays in the flesh of your back, burning every time he gives it a little twist.

No one in this part of the ship pays you any attention after they see who’s dragging you. Eyes glance over you and quickly look away. Someone skitters off--maybe to find whatever passes for law enforcement, though they had precious little presence in this part of the Black Whale--but you don’t place faith in them. You never placed faith in anyone but Chrollo and to a different extent, the other members of the Troupe.

Present company excluded, of course.

Before Hisoka dips into one of the winding corridors past the common room, you jerk your hand behind your back. Hisoka easily bats it away, keeping you from grabbing the knife--or so he thinks. You let the blood you’ve gathered from your wounded back drip down your fingers onto the floor. You leave another smear on a wall just before Hisoka turns.

Blood, deep and red--your version of Hansel’s pitiful breadcrumbs.

With any luck, someone from the Troupe will find it.

The maze of the Black Whale has never been as irritating as it is now. Soon enough, Hisoka has taken you away from even the outskirts of the level, into what must be some little-used crew spaces. The room he seems to decide upon is sparse and dark, with metal walls and a few gas lamps giving the room a soft glow. There are no beds or furniture, only the lamps and a barred clock. Maybe it was meant to be a crew quarter before it was abandoned.

Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that once Hisoka has locked the door (where did he get a key? The question is tucked away for later, for Chrollo, for the others) he releases you from his hold and you stumble forward. Your back aches and the damn knife is still in his hand, twirled easily with his fingers.

He doesn’t quite look like himself. Gone are the ostentatious clothing and styled hair. Instead, he’s wearing something simple, a dark shirt and trousers, and his hair hangs loose. He’s still Hisoka, there’s no doubt about that. The smile alone is enough to give him away, now that you’re up close. But it’s enough to make him blend in with the masses, when you aren’t sure who you are looking for.

“Well?” He asks, splaying his arms out, holding the knife carelessly--like a toy. “Do you want to play? Or shall we wait for the others?” The light of the gas lamps makes his visage even more irritating to you. You want to shine a spotlight on him, show him for what he is.

You take a fighting stance, and he only quirks his head at you before his smile grows wider. More indulgent. But there’s no judgment on your end for that, no need for a bruised ego or snapping words. You’re not a combative fighter, and you never were. You could hold your own sometimes but… against Hisoka? The thought isn’t even worth entertaining.

But what else were you supposed to do?

With your back bleeding and your nen (such as it was) gone, you launched yourself at Hisoka with just the faintest hope of lasting long enough for backup to arrive.

How quickly it ends would be laughable, if you could find any of this funny. The knife he pilfered from you flies through the air, aimed at your chest--my heart, you think--and you manage to dodge just enough for the knife to slice your shoulder, cutting your shirt and taking off a layer of skin. It was thrown so hard that the blade slides right into the metal wall.

You could whirl around and try to grab it. But it’s smarter to keep an eye on Hisoka, so you do.

And… so does he. His eyes roam up and down, and it makes your stomach begin to harden, your thoughts turning to things they normally didn’t in a situation like this.

“Ohh,” Hisoka says, voice slow and sticky as his telltale trick. “Well, that’s a sight.”

You don’t know what he means at first. But when the sting of your missing skin catches up with you, you glance down at your injured shoulder. The knife cut through the fabric of your shirt as well as your bra strap, both of which now hang limply down, exposing one bared breast.

There’s only so fast your thoughts can go, trapped in a metal room with Hisoka, no clear way out, and a knife firmly embedded into the wall. Your eyes dart here and there, desperate for options. If you could get the knife out, you might be able to keep him occupied long enough for someone else to spot your blood, and if they did--

Hisoka sighs, interrupting your thoughts, and it’s almost like a croon which makes the hairs on your arm stand on end. Sensing danger was a skill you developed as a child, and it was no less fine-tuned as an adult. Something was going to happen. Something awful.

“Well, well--why not?” He asks himself. There’s a smile on his face and his voice and it sets your nerves on edge. “We’ll be here for a while. Don’t want to get bored, do we?”

You only have time to get out a gruff “What are you tal--” before Hisoka swoops in, extending his leg for a kick, and breaks your leg with his foot. It’s as simple as breaking a twig for him, and for you there is a bright flash in your vision just before you go down. The sound of the crunch is almost worse than the pain, but only for a moment, when you land hard and awkward and the pain bursting in your ribs sends stars into your eyes.

But you don’t cry out. You’re better than that, at least, it’s the one thing you hold onto in the moment as adrenaline and pain compete for attention in your racing mind.

Something else elbows in, as well, almost literally--Hisoka, pouncing down on you, tall and looming. His wrists grab your arms and pin them down to the ground. The carpetless floor is cold but you can feel sweat--or perhaps it’s the blood from your back--underneath.

“Should I break these too?” Hisoka muses, not quite addressing you. He’s smiling softly, almost serenely. It makes you hate him more. “I do so want to hear all your pretty noises.”

Hot breath pushes in and out through your nose and you grit your teeth.

“Fuck you,” you say, before spitting right in his satisfied, smiling, smug face.

But the bastard doesn’t change his expression at all. The thin dab of spit sits on his cheek and he just beams down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Well, it was your idea.”

You see his hand curl in a fist just before he punches his wrist out, short and swift, and breaks your nose. The sound of the crunch is registered first, before a heavy, sharp pain--the pain of splitting bone fragments--spreads across your face. Unbidden tears stream down your eyes, and you feel and taste the blood that pours from your nose rather than smell it.

“You know,” Hisoka says, leaning close, his breath hot on your bleeding face, “on some women, this might make them look less pretty. But on you?” He sticks out his tongue and laps at the spot underneath your nose, teasing your upper lips. “It’s darling. Really.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, a hint of bubble in your tone from the blood that makes its way into your mouth. You spit, managing to dribble some of it out. It oozes down your chin with your drool and tears.

Hisoka reaches out and tucks a sweaty piece of hair behind your ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Somehow, it didn’t register before, what Hisoka meant. What Hisoka was planning.

You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen him act vulgar before; seen him groan and wet his lips in battle, flirting, cooing, sometimes even sporting an erection visible through his pants.

Speaking of--you glance down and see that “sometimes” has occurred now. And it’s then that things seem to click into place in your frazzled mind, pushing through the pain in your back and your leg and your face.

He’s going to…

The word doesn’t come, because Hisoka busies himself by tearing off the rest of your shirt, the bra flying to the wall with it. You have the presence of mind to strike out when his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants, but it does you no good. He grips your fingers firmly--they might be fractured, but there’s a rush of humiliating adrenaline that keeps you from focusing on it--and peels off your pants and underwear in a surprisingly swift motion. At least, you think dimly, he didn’t rip them.

There’s a slow thought process that begins to weave its way into your brain. What should you do, now? It wasn’t something that happened, wasn’t something even on the radar, of previous assignments and missions and heists. People who hated the Troupe wanted all of you dead. No one had--to your knowledge--tried to do something like this before. No one had been strong or smart enough to even get this close to you, much less the members who were physically stronger.

But this was Hisoka, and a completely different scenario. One that you found yourself unprepared for, physically and otherwise. Do you fight? You won’t win. Do you seethe and tell him exactly what you think of him? He might get annoyed and kill you, and then you’d be useless to everyone.

At least if you live, they’ll know Hisoka is on the ship. You can still help. You can still--

There’s a condescending gentle pat to your cheek--then another, and another. It doesn’t hurt directly but it jostles your face, causing fresh, sharp pain to shoot up your nose.

“Are you still there? Don’t pass out on me now… you should be able to take a few broken bones.”

You feel your gaze harden and it only makes him laugh. He traces a shape--a heart, the fucker--on your cheek with his finger before taking both of your wrists and pinning them next to your head on the floor.

When you glance down again, you realize he’s pulled down his trousers, which must be discarded somewhere in the room. You can see his naked, erect cock and there’s a strange realization that comes over you.

He’s going to fuck you. Here, in this isolated room, underneath the ocean. He might kill you after. Or during, who knows. It’s a fact that this will happen and that these are possibilities. The logical part of your brain holds onto this fact, as if it might make it easier.

“Ready?” He smiles down at you.

You’re not ready, and he knows this, and that’s what makes it fun for him.

He pushes inside with a single hard thrust, and you feel a burning sear on your insides as he presses his cock fully inside you with no attempt to ease himself (or you) into things.

“Mmm,” he groans, pulling out just enough to thrust back in again. “Tighter than I thought. The boss hasn’t had you?”

There’s a blossoming pain in your chest. Broken ribs or humiliation or some terrible mixture of both.

You grit your teeth and you don’t say exactly what you want to say, because it might make him angry enough to kill you, but you can’t let things slide entirely.

“Don’t--” Your breath hitches when he thrusts inside you harder than before, you’re sure you must be bleeding between your legs now. But you force yourself to continue.

“Don’t talk about him… you… you traitor.” You wish the word had some weight, but you can tell it means nothing to Hisoka.

At least nothing bad. Because you can feel his cock twitch inside you and it makes bile rise in your throat, hot and stinging.

Hisoka runs his fingers through your hair. There’s something sticky on his fingers--your blood?--that makes you wince. The deceptive gentleness only lasts a moment before he backhands you, catching your broken nose on his fingers. Tears fall from your eyes against your will, and you feel fresh blood trickle out of your nose.

“So mouthy! I love it!”

His cock twitches again and you feel him sigh at the sensations it must give him, to be forcing himself on you, thrusting himself in and out of your abused sex.

You don’t know how long it goes on. Long enough for the searing pain to turn into burning ache, for the pain between your legs to blur together with the pain everywhere else.

But eventually he must be reaching his limit, because he begins to speed up his thrusts, pressing the fingers on your wrist down enough to hurt.

“Tell Chrollo,” he says, a hint of an uncontrolled, breathy pant in his name finally creeping in at the direct use of Chrollo’s name, “that this is his fault.”

HIsoka’s fingers tighten on one of your wrists as he increases his force and his speed, and you feel and hear the crunch, the sharp pain joining the ache of your battered body.

“He sent you alone,” he continues, thrusting harder with every word. “He took your nen, semi-useless as it is.”

There’s no grand finale to his orgasm, only the feel of his muscles tensing above you, a single final push as he emptied himself inside you. And then Hisoka himself, leaning in to whisper in your ear, voice dripping with deceitful honey.

“He should have known better than to send a weak thing like you to look for me. He could have at least let you keep your nen… then you might have seen me coming, no?”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek. You feel the stickiness of clear lip gloss left behind. Ah, you think, a dull, slow, stupid thought. Then he didn’t give up his vanity entirely on the ship.

You don’t move from your spot on the ground. You’re not sure you want to try, just yet. You hear Hisoka’s footsteps receding, hear the whining of the metal door opening and the clang of it shutting behind him.

For a while, you hear nothing at all. Nothing except your ragged breath.

And then your grunts and irritatingly soft whimpers as you slowly, agonizingly sit up. You don’t want to be found like this. Weak and bleeding and…

Your fingers fish around on the floor until you find your torn shirt, your underwear, your pants. It takes you a long time to get redressed. Your shirt doesn’t even cover you fully, and you fumble with your aching fingers and likely broken wrist to tie it off, giving you an ounce of modesty.

Every part of you aches. Some parts of you are broken. There’s a horrible soreness between your legs, and you know without checking that it’s not just Hisoka’s seed that’s leaking out of you but blood.

But you manage it. Carefully. Painfully.

Sometime later, the door opens again, a metallic whine.

But it’s not Hisoka, come to brag or finish you off. It’s Chrollo, standing alone, the lights of the hallway obscuring everything but his silhouette, which wavers despite the fact that he’s standing in place. Your vision is spotty, dizzying--from the blood loss or the pain or the stress or all of it at once.

His footsteps to you are slow, careful. You dimly register him kneeling in front of you and saying your name. You feel his eyes looking you over, and it’s a different feeling than Hisoka staring at your exposed, broken, bleeding body. But it’s just as open, and you only just resist the urge to curl up on yourself and hide what little that you can.

It would just aggravate your wounds, anyway.

You don’t see Chrollo’s expression when everything clicks into place, but oh, damn it all. You hear his breath hitch and somehow that hurts more than your broken ribs.

“Look at me,” he says finally, his voice soft but commanding.

And you do. Chrollo’s expression is neutral, calm. It’s what you need, maybe. What he thinks you need? You’re not sure if there’s a difference.

“Hisoka.” He doesn’t elaborate further, and he doesn’t need to.

You nod.

“I’ll have you taken care of,” he tells you. His words are slow and deliberate, and there’s an inkling of shame in your chest at them. You shouldn’t be in this position, not in front of Chrollo or at all. You’re meant to be above this weakness. Aren’t you?

There’s a few moments, and you’ve been around Chrollo to know what he’s going to ask next. It doesn’t make the way it turns your stomach sour any less unpleasant.

“Did he say anything important to you?”

You think. You wet your lips, tasting blood and mucus.

And then you shake your head. No. You won’t tell Chrollo what Hisoka said, because despite the way his words twisted something in you, deep down--it’s not true. You’re an adult. You joined the Troupe, fought for your place in it. You joined the mission. You agreed to go alone, agreed to hand over your nen.

Chrollo sighs. He inspects you, again, looking for tell-tale signs of what you won’t say to him.

And then he tells you, simply--

“You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

It’s not an order. It’s not even a request, not really. It’s an admission of the fact that he trusts you and you trust him and you don’t have to keep things from him.

In the end, you don’t know what’s more bitter. Your failure, the mucus-tinged blood on your tongue, or the stilted admission that comes next.

"He said it was your fault. He said you shouldn't have sent me alone without at least my nen so I could at least see him coming.”

Your words sound robotic, even to your ears. How does Chrollo hear them? Hopefully for the mechanical repetition that they are. You don’t want the words to carry any weight, because you don’t believe them.

Chrollo closes his eyes. Then he looks at you, and it might just make you cry. Because his expression, just for the moment that he allows you to take it in, is absolutely dreadful.

It passes, and you’re glad, and maybe it’s the blood loss but you swear there’s a euphoric relief when Chrollo’s expression returns to neutral and he merely wraps his arm around you and assists you up.

You let him, biting your cheek to keep quiet with all of the pain in your broken, used body as he assists you to your feet--or rather, your one unbroken foot--before lifting you into his arms to carry you out.

You don’t want to wince. Or whimper. Or do anything but let your mouth fill up with fresh blood from the blisters from your teeth, the consequence of keeping quiet now.

Because above all, you don’t want to see that look in Chrollo’s eyes ever again.

In fact, you realize, grim--you’d rather die than see that look once more.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #darkfic #afterwitch writes

768 notes · View notes

darklyndivinely · 6 months

Note

lucifer cuddling and napping hcs!! i need to hold his hand while we both nap so he can destress :( maybe a little spice too.. 😈

A/N - Thank you for the ask, anon! I love soft!Luci as much as anyone else so I really enjoyed this. Unfortunately, no spice :( It wasn't fitting the vibe. Hope you still like it!

Masterlist • Leave a tip!

Lucifer is a big napper.

We all know his sleep schedule is fucked. He gets in bed at three in the night then wakes up four hours later for breakfast and RAD. Naps, therefore, act as middle ground. They rejuvenate him, help refocus his mind, and don't require hours like sleep does. It's common to knock on his study only to discover him asleep amidst his paperwork or on the couch by the fireplace.

He also has developed a habit of resting his head against the back of the sofa and sneaking some shut eye during movie nights. He thinks nobody notices since it's dark and he always makes sure to wake up before the credits roll around. He's wrong; everyone knows, they just let him be.

Lucifer is also touch starved. He yearns to hold, be held, snuggle and be snuggled. It's a rare kind of intimacy for him and sometimes the depth of his desire stuns him. He's comfortable finding ways to keep physical contact with you in some way by now. He's mastered the craft of it actually: a hand on your back to guide you in crowds, a soft caress on the head when he finds you unbelievably adorable in the moment but can't find the words to express it, tracing the juts of your knuckles with his thumb during date nights at Ristorante Six, gently pressing his lips to your forehead when you're walking back home because you look so beautiful with the moonlight shading you and he's so grateful of your presence in his life.

First time he ends up napping with you is a random Sunday. His eyes are hurting from squinting at paperwork all morning and half of noon; he's decided to stretch his muscles by a walk around the house. You are sprawled on the sofa in the living room, the fire bathing you in gentle warmth, on the verge of falling asleep. He stops beside you, frowning softly at your figure. You catch sight of his shoes, look up and promptly clasp the fabric of his trousers to pull him closer. He struggles. He's got work, he can't sleep, it's so public. Huffing, you say, "You're tired. Shut up and come here."

You tug again and he gives in to your sleep-riddled eyes and scrunched forehead, slotting himself beside you on the sofa. The thought of being like this, laid beside you in the living room is whirling through his mind, the sheer vulnerability of it draping itself over him like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket. You circle an arm around his torso, burying the other in the crevice between your bodies, your face nuzzling the skin of his exposed collarbone, and all his worries evaporate into inexistence. There are some fluttering thoughts then, but mostly it's a deep feeling of contentment that makes his chest feel light and golden. He'll lapse into silence if you tease him later, but you know that he loved the experience.

He's very meticulous about his naps. Decides the duration based on his workload and urgency. Puts up alarms and makes sure not to oversleep. It becomes common for him to seek you out during his designated nap hour then to check if you're free. If you are, fully expect him to drag you to your room, settle on the bed, pull you close and clock out.

He also enjoys being the little spoon. More than he probably should, actually. So don't you utter a word about it out loud or he'll make you eat hot sauce for all your meals for a whole week. If you ever end up sneaking into his bed during nighttime, don't be afraid to slither against his back and snuggle into him. When he'll wake, his cheeks will pinken and he'll hold your hands against his torso just a tad bit tighter, forgoing the ringing of his alarm for the heat of your embrace instead.

He could get used to this.

#darkly and divinely written #obey me x reader #obey me #lucifer x reader #obey me shall we date #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff #shall we date obey me #obey me!

446 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 7 months

Text

Okay and here are the headcanons for Kinktober!

It's a pretty well known fact (I think??) that Mary Shelley had sex on her mother's grave. (This is also the Mary Shelley who wrote Frankenstein and carried her dead husband's heart around.) It just seemed like such a perfect spooky Halloween situation, I wanted to write some headcanons about it lol.

So this is MC getting it on with our characters in a graveyard on Halloween in the middle of the night. In the case of the brothers, MC just summoned them. For the dateables, some creativity was required.

I didn't do the undateables this time because I wanted to do only one post and I didn't want it to be longer than it already is lol!

Happy Halloween!

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x the demon brothers & dateables (minus Luke obvs)

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: penetration (reader receiving), oral (both reader receiving and characters receiving), fingering (reader receiving), tailfucking (uhhh do I have to say reader receiving well here it is just in case), semi-public, outdoors, mention of corpses and the like but this is mostly kinky jokes so nothing too gruesome

Lucifer

Why have you brought him here, MC? What could you possibly want to do in a graveyard? You had better have a real good explanation for why you summoned him to a graveyard in the middle of the night. You should know that he has better things to do than go ghost hunting with you.

The minute you kiss him, he understands. There's something desperate and needy about your lips on his. Already your tongue has entangled with his and heat has risen up between you.

He has no problem with making you lose yourself in a graveyard, but are you acting like this because it's Halloween? You're seeking some kind of trick? He won't bother to ask you because his lips are too busy sucking on your neck. Your hand is in his pants, freeing his cock, already hard and leaking. He's pulling you along with him so he can brace against whatever he comes across first, hoisting you up so he can enter you.

It's really too bad that your human world friends wouldn't believe you if you told them you were railed by Lucifer behind a mausoleum in the graveyard on Halloween night. You really wanted to tell someone because those are some epic bragging rights. Instead, you kept the memory to yourself, a little thrill pulsing between your legs whenever you thought of it.

Mammon

Terrified. Why are you in a graveyard? Why is he in a graveyard? And on Halloween of all nights! You try to distract him with kisses, but he keeps pulling away and asking you if you saw a ghost.

This seems like it's not going to work. Even when he tries not to be afraid, he's definitely too afraid. You're able to make him forget some of that fear by going to your knees and putting his cock in your mouth. Now he's scared and horny.

S-seriously, MC! What’re ya doin? He’s trying to protest but he isn’t very convincing because he keeps moaning. You pause to tell him the most ghostly thing in the graveyard tonight are his moans. He gets flustered and starts to argue but you shut him up pretty quickly.

After he comes in your mouth, he wants to return the favor, but he insists you have to leave the graveyard. He won’t be able to focus when he’s scared. Once he gets you somewhere else, he pays you back by making you scream his name.

Leviathan

Woah, MC! This graveyard reminds him of the manga I Was a Lonely Florist That Got Hit By a Bus and Now I’m a Ghost Living in a Graveyard While I Try to Solve My Own Murder! There’s a medium that tries to help the ghost florist and- you’re gonna have to cut him off unless you wanna be there for hours.

The minute Levi figures out that you brought him here because you want to have sex with him, he becomes a blushing mess. What if someone came to visit their grandma and sees you? Tell him it's Halloween, nobody is going to come visit their grandma.

He won’t protest for long once you start kissing him though. In fact, he gets hard so fast you’re pretty sure he’s just as turned on by this location as you. You have him sit down on low decorative wall so you can straddle him. He does his best to bite back his moans as you ride him, his hands tight on your hips.

Don't ever remind him of that experience. It's too embarrassing! But he does lend you all fifty three volumes of the ghost florist manga. Despite his embarrassment, the two of you read them together.

Satan

At first he’s a little confused. Why would you summon him to a graveyard like this? Then you start to kiss him and he figures it out. Actually makes you stop to ask if you know about Mary Shelley. He’s impressed when he finds out that was your inspiration.

Now he’s fully into it. Can’t resist adding to the Halloween vibe by shifting into demon form. Curls his tail around your waist as he pushes you back against a tree. Cushions the back of your head with his hand as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He’s thrusting into you at a steady pace but he’s also rambling quietly in your ear. It’s all poetry about darkness and fear, adding a satisfying thrill to the sweetness of him inside you. Your moans only encourage him.

Always after that, he will randomly recite a specific line of poetry to you, one that mentions a graveyard, one that he whispered in your ear while he was fucking you against that tree. It sends a shiver down your spine every time - a spooky little secret between the two of you.

Asmodeus

He shows up looking absolutely fabulous, fully decked out in Halloween themed makeup, clothes, and accessories. He looks around in confusion before asking why you summoned him to a graveyard. The look you give him is enough to reveal all.

MC! You want to do that here? In the dirt? Next to a bunch of corpses? He appreciates your dedication to the vibe but it’s kiiiinda gross! No matter, he's not here to kink shame. As long as he doesn't get dirty.

You decided to kiss him until his lipstick is smeared all over your lips. Seeing it makes him lose his mind and it isn’t long before he’s got your back pressed up against his chest, his cock buried inside you while he smears more lipstick across your neck. He doesn't care about being quiet and moans continually in your ear.

He may have to reapply his makeup look later, but it was worth it. Anytime he wants to send you a subtle message, he wears that particular shade of lipstick.

Beelzebub

Confusion. What’s going on, MC? Why did you summon him to a graveyard? Are you in danger? He’s looking around in the dark, ready to defend you from any ghouls that might show up.

It won’t take much for him to realize what you actually want. Oh. Oh. Once he’s figured it out, he’s more than happy to take care of you right here if that’s what you want. Wastes no time boosting you up against a mausoleum wall so he can put his head between your thighs.

You end up begging him to shift to demon form just so you can hold onto his horns. You're pulling harder than usual trying to keep your noises down and you don’t want to pull out his hair. Beel doesn’t mind, but he does what you ask.

Innocently asks if this is some kind of human tradition. Go ahead and tell him it’s an ancient Halloween ritual. It isn’t like that’s too far off from the truth anyway. Every year after he asks when you want to go back to the graveyard.

Belphegor

Ha ha, MC. He may be sleepy, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hang out with the dead. Honestly thinks you summoned him to the graveyard as a prank. Offended at first but okay he has to admit that it’s kinda funny.

That is until you start kissing him. Now he’s confused. Your hand on his cock clears things up for him. He’s going to smirk and bend you over, already moving your clothes and putting his fingers inside you. He teases you for a while, bringing you close only to pull you back.

Eventually you beg to feel his cock inside you and he finally does as you ask. You have to find something to brace yourself on. Maybe it’s a nearby tree or maybe it’s a nearby tombstone. Either way, Belphie’s prepared to make your legs shake.

He’s secretly turned on by this whole scenario. Brings it up to you occasionally just to watch you blush. You sometimes dream about that night and every time you do, he can’t keep his eyes off of you the next day.

Diavolo

You can’t summon him so you have to get creative if you want to fuck this demon in a graveyard. He’ll know if you lie to him and tell him it’s a human world custom. But it’s also Diavolo’s birthday, so you tell him you’ve got a gift for him which isn’t actually a lie.

He shows up at the graveyard as you request and he’s already in demon form. He’s hoping any humans who see him will think it’s a costume. It’s Halloween after all!

There is something about seeing the demon prince standing in a graveyard in the night with his horns and his wings and his exposed chest… he catches on quite quickly to your intentions because you can't keep your hands to yourself. As expected, he laughs, finding your idea delightful. He catches your hands and kisses you. You've already freed his cock so it's only a matter of moving your clothes out of the way before he's inside you.

What a thoughtful gift you gave him this year, MC! You can't quite tell if he's teasing you because he seems so genuine. The truth is that your boldness really turned him on, so he was being honest.

Barbatos

There really is no way to get him there without just asking him to meet you. As soon as you do, he's onto you. He finds it unlikely that you would ask him to meet you in a human world graveyard on Halloween in the middle of the night unless you were up to something. But he's curious, so he portals himself there at the appointed time.

Your sweet blush gives you away. Now that he's there, looking poised in the moonlight among the tombstones, you're a little embarrassed. But you aren't going to let this opportunity pass you by. And he can already tell what you want anyway.

My, my, MC. You really are a naughty little thing, aren't you? Don't worry, he's happy to indulge you. Before you even have a chance to try seducing him, the tip of a tail is creeping beneath your clothes. Barbatos fucks you with his tail so good you're seeing stars, clinging onto him and moaning his name.

He's not satisfied with this, though. Keeps you close as he portals you back to his own room in the Devildom. He keeps you there all night and now you've got a whole new Halloween tradition.

Simeon

At first you aren't sure how to get him to the graveyard. But you tell him that there's a place in the human world you want to show him. He seems happy enough to meet you there, but he is confused about the late hour. You tell him it's relevant to what you want to show him.

When he gets there, you waste no time and cut right to the chase, kissing him and putting your hand down his pants. Simeon, to your complete surprise, responds in kind.

Oh, MC. If this is what you wanted, you should have just told him. He's moved without you realizing and you feel something hard behind you. You look up and almost laugh - you're being pressed against the base of an enormous angel statue. You're not distracted for long though because Simeon is already moving aside your clothes. He bites down a little as he enters you, making you gasp. You wondered momentarily if the dead in that graveyard experienced heaven the way you were at that moment.

He'll never tell a soul about what the two of you did, but you know when he's thinking about it. He gets a particular look on his face, a light blush and a sparkle in his eyes. You're not even surprised when it happens in one of his future novels.

Solomon

Sure, he's happy to go with you to whatever graveyard you like, even if it's the middle of the night on Halloween. He gets it. It's spooky season, after all. You don't have to trick him into it, he's ready to go wherever you suggest.

When you get there, he waits for your direction, perhaps thinking you're on the lookout for ghosts or something. Figures out what you want immediately when you start to kiss him. And now he's turned on. Takes you into a nearby mausoleum and you find yourself bent over, hands braced against the wall. He's losing himself in you and praise tumbles out of him as your moans echo through the stone room.

You're both breathing heavily as he takes care of the clean up and fixes your clothes for you. Then he grins wickedly. Would this be considered a graveyard smash, MC? You threaten him with bodily harm for saying that, but he only laughs at you.

For a while afterward, he'll start humming Monster Mash near you, just to get a reaction out of you. You get to decide if you kiss him or hit him, but either way he's pleased about it.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

627 notes · View notes

rachelzeglertruther · 9 months

Text

Why You're Wrong About Rachel Zegler

This is a long post, but there's a lot of context missing from the Rachel Zegler "discourse" that I thought I could add with my history of watching this unfold from the beginning.

The Snow White Thing

You probably know this part. There's a curated video of Rachel going viral, framed to make her seem like she's never seen Snow White, she hates the story, she hates the character, she's ungrateful, and single-handedly ruined Disney's brand. The clips from these videos are not new— they were released nearly a year ago in September 2022 and nobody cared about them at the time. Why? Because all the full interviews she did that day at the Disney Exo in 2022 showed a young, charming woman who was excited and proud to be cast in an iconic role. The interviews were very well received and it was a non story. Now that it's been edited down and cut together in a malicious way, and the people sharing them are purposefully misquoting her, they've twisted the context. Normally, this would be a non controversy. Even if that video wasn't taken out of context and spliced together to make her seem like she hates the film, most people wouldn't care. The issue is the response to the video.

Let's get this out of the way: Rachel Zegler doesn't hate Snow White. She relayed that she was afraid of the forest scene as a child and didn't revisit it again until after she was cast in the role. She has since then watched it several times and has expressed for YEARS before that interview came out that she was incredibly honored and grateful to be playing such an iconic Disney princess. If you watch the full videos that those clips came from, this comes across immediately to anyone with their own mind. If you hate someone for being scared of something as a child, I don't know what to tell you. If the role was being given to the biggest Snow White fan, you would be correct that she doesn't deserve it. Unfortunately for you, this role requires talent and Rachel has the Golden Globe and critical acclaim from people who matter within the industry (her peers and critics).

You know who does hate their beloved characters in beloved franchises but the general public still applauds them? Harrison Ford, Sean Connery, Daniel Craig, and Robert Pattinson. They've all expressed outright contempt for the roles and the films they were part of, but nobody cared. People had fun with their quotes but they still respected them. Rachel said nothing even closely resembling their remarks, but she's being torn to shreds. Are we seeing a pattern here?

Rachel never said a single bad thing about the character or the animated film— she said that it was outdated and that set people over the edge, foaming at the mouth to have her burned at the stake. If you think it would be perfectly fine to have a movie about an abused 14 year old girl run away to play housemaid for a bunch of men, get kissed in her sleep/death by an adult man, and then wake up to fall into his arms in 2024, that's certainly a hot take. If you're against remakes, direct your ire at Disney. But if you truly think that plot would work with young girls today, you're the one who's out of touch. It would do far more harm than good to portray a young woman in that light.

She also never said that there was anything wrong with romance or love. She said that the new Snow White wasn't only dreaming of that. I can't stress enough that this wasn't her decision… she was describing the plot of the new film that was written by Greta Gerwig and approved by Disney. There's a prince in the film and he will also have a more developed personality and storyline. If you have a problem with the writing, wait until it comes out so you can write your strongly worded letter to Greta. If you have a problem with the concept in general, take it up with Disney. There's no need for you to be defensive over hurting the legacy of a multi-billion dollar company or a 87 year old cartoon written by a proud racist antisemite. This is the most confusing part of the hate campaign to me because it wasn't even her opinion— she was literally describing the plot of the film she had nothing to do with. It also isn't a new thing. Disney actors have been promoting their newer films this way for years.

It's perfectly okay to like things that are problematic. It's becoming an issue that we refuse to acknowledge that maybe some things we love are harmful. What we can't do is justify why it's not problematic, and in fact everyone who calls it out is the problem and NOT their precious cartoon. The 1937 Snow White was an amazing feat of animation. It's a classic for a reason. But it was also Hitler's favorite film and was directed by a white supremacist (the one who is "rolling in his grave" due to Rachel's existence, according to his son). Things don't exist in a vacuum and we can't ignore the bad parts.

How We Got Here:

The thing that everyone is missing is the source of this campaign. This started in September of 2020 when transphobic actor Gina Carano made fun of trans people by changing her pronouns to beep/bop.boop. Rachel indirectly called her out by coming to the defense of the trans community.

She never called out Gina by name (though she rightfully could have). Mind you, Rachel's first film hadn't come out yet. Nobody knew who she was outside of those of us who were anticipating West Side Story and were fans of her covers on YouTube. She was a "nobody" in the industry. Take this part with a grain of salt because I can't confirm it, but Gina and her fans directly blame Rachel for her being banned from Twitter. Again, I really don't think that matters as she's harmful to the trans community and shouldn't have a platform. What does matter is that fans of Gina (which, let's be real, are just fans of transphobia) have been stalking Rachel's every move since then. Unfortunately for them, there wasn't much they could use against her other than to call her woke and #snowbrown when she was cast a year later as the Disney princess. The noise has always been there, but unless you were a fan of hers, you probably didn't hear about it. It wasn't until two years after this that they had something else against her.

If you've recently seen a video of Rachel crying circulating that claims to be her reaction to the recent Snow White backlash, it's an old video. It's from a vlog from her youtube channel posted in June 2022. It was in response to these exact same transphobic anti-woke conservatives who thought that they had something when she did an interview on the red carpet of the Shazam premiere. When asked why she joined the DC universe, she responded "I needed a job." It was generally well received by most people who thought it was cute and funny, but those who were waiting in the shadows latched onto it as an excuse to send her death threats.

The video was also about a month after she was invited to present at the 2022 Oscars and was made to seem like she bullied the Academy (as a no name newcomer, mind you) into letting her attend. In reality, a fan left a comment on her Instagram asking what she was wearing to the event. She responded that she wasn't invited but would be rooting for everyone from her couch in her boyfriend's pajamas. It was the public who demanded she get an invite and the Oscar's must have agreed that it was very odd that the lead actress of a film that was nominated for Best Film wouldn't get an invite. Whether it was an oversight on their part or a scheduling issue with Rachel's filming, I truly think there was no malicious intent from either party. Keep in mind, she used to be very active with her fans (she's a huge fangirl of things herself and has always had a strong relationship with her fans) and she wasn't used to her comments becoming articles and national tv segments. This was the first time it happened to her. It appears she learned that she's not just a girl who posts on YouTube anymore and she's going to be put under a microscope for every move she makes. She has since shut down her Instagram comments and rarely interacts with fans outside of liking comments these days because of this.

I know this is long, but I need people to understand where this is all coming from. It didn't just happen out of nowhere. It's an orchestrated campaign built by violent conservatives, and thousands of women who saw Barbie this summer are hopping on the bandwagon to beat another woman into submission because they have a lot of internalized misogyny to deal with. She's not smug, you just hate women. It's okay to find people annoying, but it's valuable to look into why you think that. If you see a confident young woman expressing views that don't actually harm anyone and you think she needs to be "humbled" and "put in her place" by the entire internet dogpiling her, you've lost your mind. Using "body language experts" (fake job) to diagnose her as a psychopath is so vile. Everytime someone mentions her name online, the comments beneath it are full of the most violent, misogynistic, racist things I've ever seen. If you're contributing to that, you've chosen your side. Reevaluate or seek help.

I'm tired of seeing this happen to young women. We let this happen to Jennifer Lawrence, Brie Larson, Millie Bobby Brown, Halle Bailey, and Jenna Ortega. It's one thing to call out celebrities and hold them accountable when they're doing something actively harmful, but that's not what this is about. That's never been what this is about. We pick these girls to pieces and examine them and pull them apart to justify our hatred of young women who rise to success too quickly for our liking. We dogpile and try to stamp out the flame before they burn too bright. Barbie is still in theaters and you all loved it, yet you're demanding that a bright girl with a big future be small and submissive and humbled because you have issues. That's not feminism. You're just the girls who would have bullied Weird Barbie for using her hands too much when she talks.

#rachel zegler #snow white #disney #barbie #rachelzegler #there's also misinformation about her standing up for ansel elgort which isn't true #sorry but she hates that man #you're thinking about ariana debose who defended him #we'll get into that later

730 notes · View notes

whileyoureinschoolidothisallday · 2 years

Text

I feel moved to do this so I’m gonna

I can only speak for the US, but if you think covid isn’t a big deal anymore you are being lied to. on multiple levels.

First and most important, covid is airborne. It was always airborne. This is a well-established fact in the medical community and has been for awhile. What this means is that, in indoor spaces and crowded outdoor spaces, it is chilling in the air and you are inhaling it with every breath you take. The more virus you inhale, the sicker you will be. The gov knows it, the cdc knows it, everyone knows it. Nobody wants to say this to avoid accountability that they fucked up the initial response with a focus on droplets, and they don’t want “panic”. Plus it will obviously cost them more.

herd immunity was never, and is not going to be, a thing with this virus

You can and will get reinfected. And with every infection, you’re at higher risk of severe disease and organ damage, including your brain.

Two very large studies on Long Covid have recently come out, and in summary, it is very real and you don’t want this shit. It’s estimated that 1 in 5 infected people will get it and there is no cure yet. Even if we find one, organ and brain damage is not reversible.

covid is causing an increase in brain disorders

this is an LA emergency room today as of August 27 2022 It’s like this all over as you can see in the comments.

children are at significantly higher risk for covid complications

masking doesn’t hurt kids’ speech development

earloop masks don’t do shit to protect you at this point and this is well established in the medical community. It’s N95 or higher or you have very little protection. Any mask is better than no mask. If you have absolutely no choice but to use ear looped masks, a mask brace helps significantly

you can get a p100, a mask with even higher filtration than n95, on amazon for $30. This is the one I bought. Here are more p100 and elastomeric masks you can buy safely

here is an indepth video on how to perform a DIY fit test at home using instructions from the US Army. You should be doing this with every mask you have (if you’re curious as to why federal mask mandates were never enforced or even discussed, it’s because federal law mandates that companies have to fit test every employee if masks are required for airborne protection and they can’t/don’t want to figure out how to work around this for the general public. You need to fit test for a mask to work accurately.)

one of the key components to actually returning life to normal for everyone, including the disabled, is air filtration. The Corsi-Rosenthal Box is a cheap, open source air filter that’s on par with more expensive filtration systems. At it’s best, it reduces 80% of the covid inhalation dose, which is the equivalent of a group of people all wearing decent quality, fitting masks. This not only helps against covid, but also reduces exposure to other respiratory illnesses and even allergies! People all over the country are making these and donating them to schools, businesses, people in need, etc. Here’s a video on how to make one yourself and I highly recommend you do if you can. If you don’t like masks for whatever reason, this is how we get rid of them

here is an awesome thread about traveling during covid

If you’d like reviews on various types of masks and if they pass fit tests, this is the guy you wanna follow

if you’re looking for graphs and charts and statistics, you wanna follow this account

if you wanna know more about air filtration, literally everyone in the medical community worth their salt is constantly screaming about it on twitter, but I recommend following this guy

and if you want accurate information about covid, then you should follow one of the first whistleblowers for the disease. He’s been right about everything so far, and he’s also posting accurately about monkeypox

NOW HOW ABOUT A FEW GOOD THINGS??????

a very promising prophylactic for covid, called Evusheld, exists and has been authorized for emergency use in the US. If you are immunocompromised, over the age of 12, and 88+ pounds, please harass your GPD and pharmacy to give it to you!!!! It is actively being suppressed and the us gov isn’t buying supply, so most medical professionals don’t know it exists and will fight you about it. Even if you aren’t in the US, it’s available in over 100 countries!!!!!

Novavax is a new and very promising vaccine that would be effective for emerging variants, and it’s working better than the current vaccines to prevent infection. But, again, the US is refusing to buy supply and the FDA is dragging their feet because the current administration is pfizer’s bitch :)

also, in general, I know it sounds scary that covid is airborne, but we have a lot of airborne diseases, and we know how to fight them. They aren’t magic. We can and do manage them all the time. It’s just that for some reason (capitalism), we’ve decided not to this time.

but the information is still available. We don’t have to lie down and let this thing destroy our communities and isolate our disabled and vulnerable neighbors. We have the ability, at any time, to end this shit for real and make our local communities safer, with or without the gov’s help.

we just have to do it.

#covid #covid-19 #covid pandemic #covid help #helpful links #things to know #Real Life with Risa

4K notes · View notes

project-sonadow · 3 months

Text

Fate?

Summary: Sonic never cared about soulmates, but in a world where everyone had a red string of fate wrapped around their finger, Sonic decided to wear gloves.

Read the rest below!

To put it bluntly, Sonic had never cared about soulmates.

He wasn’t exactly unique in this mindset. In this modern day and era, it was only slightly progressive to spend your entire life without ever meeting your other half, let alone devoting your life to them. Radical ideas, such as platonic soulmates, familial soulmates, or even soulmates being bad if you ended up paired with the wrong person were common talking points in the general public and media. That red string of fate which had governed entire lives in the past no longer seemed critical to most people.

Sonic didn’t care about any of that either. In fact, until he started hanging around populated human areas more often, he didn’t realize there was so much controversy about it. He always lived how he wanted, paying barely any attention to the subject.

Sonic’s friends all had very different opinions about soulmates.

Tails was kind of like him, in that he didn’t care about the red string encircling his pinkie and leading to a far-off point in the distance- or, at least, he pretended not to. Amy had been heartbroken that she and Sonic weren’t soulmates, before deciding to prove to Sonic and the world that true love couldn’t be predetermined by fate (her words, not his). Knuckles didn’t want to leave his duty for long enough to find his soulmate, and had admitted to Sonic once that he felt bad for whoever his soulmate was. Cream was excited to find her soulmate when she got older, but wasn’t under any illusion that it was a requirement for happiness in life, considering that her own mother was forever trailed by her own cut string, dragging limply on the ground, and seemed just fine despite that. Blaze and Silver both viewed it as a luxury that they couldn’t indulge in (ironic, because their shared red string of fate was apparently strong enough to cross through time and dimensions). Vector didn’t care about it at all, considering that he had his eyes set on Vanilla. Espio thought it would get in the way of his “duties as a ninja”, whatever that meant. Charmy just didn’t like the idea of relationships in general. Rouge hated the concept in general, Shadow refused to talk about it, and Omega said he would refuse to accept his soulmate unless they were willing to help him destroy Eggman. Big had a gentle kind of apathy towards his string. Whisper didn’t talk much about the subject to begin with, and considering that she wore blocker gloves 24/7 people didn’t ask her about it.

Tangle…

Well, it seemed like she was trying very hard to convince herself that she didn’t care about the idea of never finding her soulmate.

“I just don’t get why everyone thinks it’s such a big deal, y’know. Like it’s great if you do find your soulmate, and in a tiny village like mine half the soulmates are paired up before they’re teenagers, but it’s not like you need to do it! My moms aren’t soulmates and they’re doing just fine!”

Tangle’s moms were currently divorced and trying to rekindle their relationship, but Sonic decided not to bring that up.

“And then we have to throw a huge stupid party everytime someone comes back from vacation with their soulmate in tow, and I just. Ugh. We all make such a big deal out of getting to choose how to live our own lives, but we’re all born with this stupid string around our pinkies and told to go off and find the other end. It’s so annoying.”

This probably wasn’t what was actually bothering her, Sonic thought. It was probably the fact that one day her string had stopped moving by itself, only responding to Tangle’s own body, and currently led to a forest in the middle of nowhere with nobody at the other end. It was probably the fact that her soulmate had apparently been the type of person to try on a pair of blocker gloves one day and then never take them off.

Sonic thought about Whisper. About the blocker gloves she never took off, the way she started fiddling with them whenever Tangle was around. The way she looked so anxious whenever Tangle grabbed her by the hand and started running, like she was scared Tangle would pull the glove clean off. The way Tangle and Whisper looked at each other, in general.

Like always, he wondered if he should tell Tangle what he thought.

Like always, he decided against it.

“If you want a huge stupid party, I can always just throw you one, soulmate or no soulmate,” he said instead. “Hell, if you really want, we could pretend that we’re soulmates just to rub it in your town’s face.”

Tangle fake-gagged, and Sonic took fake-offense to that.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Celebrity,” she said, and Sonic drew himself back a little, spines involuntarily bristling. “Whenever people talk about soulmates you just roll your eyes and say some shit about ‘living free’ and ‘going with the flow’. Do you really not want to find your soulmate? It would be easy for you.”

Sonic rolled his eyes, and then instantly realized what he had done when Tangle started laughing at him. He hastily cleared his throat. “Don’t know if there’s anyone who would be able to keep up with me.”

“I know at least three people who can go about as fast as you can,” Tangle said, punching his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, if you really didn’t care that much you wouldn’t wear those stupid blocker gloves all the time.”

Oh, so she had noticed. “Eh, I mostly wear these because I tend to get mobbed by crazy fangirls if I don’t. If I make it obvious I’m not really available then most people won’t attempt to tell me that they’re totally different from the hundreds of other people who have been convinced we’re meant to be over the years.”

Tangle narrowed her eyes at that. “Crazy fangirls? Like Amy?”

“Crazier.”

“Wow, scary,” Tangle said, and then moved on to talking about how her own friends had set up a Sonic fanclub once, and the conversation moved on from there, and Sonic was glad he didn’t have to talk about it anymore.

So yeah, Sonic wore blocker gloves, and yeah, it was so he wouldn’t be harassed about the subject whenever he showed his face in public, or when journalists ambushed him on the streets, or people edited photos of him to make it seem like he had a thin red line coming down from his pinkie and leading to some stranger in the photo. It was convenient. It was easy.

It was even mostly the truth.

Sonic knew a couple other people who wore blocker gloves- Blaze studiously kept hers on to keep up a vaguely professional air, even when her cheeks flamed fire-red every single time Silver so much as existed in her general vicinity, Espio had his on so the string couldn’t get in the way of his “duties as a ninja” (seriously, what the hell did that mean), Vector occasionally wore them on the job and had made half-hearted attempts to get a pair for Charmy, which kept on being mysteriously lost. Rouge and Shadow both wore a pair, presumably because of their super-secret spy jobs that Sonic wasn’t supposed to know about (glowing red strings which could phase through any solid object would probably make hiding difficult, he figured), and Omega had found a way to simply turn his string off, somehow, which was more impressive and terrifying than anything else Sonic had seen him do.

The only person Sonic knew who steadfastly refused to wear blocker gloves was Vanilla, despite the troubles she sometimes saw because of them. She was a single mother whose string had been cut by an untimely death, and she didn’t care who knew it. She lived each day of her life with a bright, happy, genuine smile on her face.

She was, so far, one of the only people who had ever seen Sonic with his gloves off. The only other person besides Tails, actually, who built his gloves in the first place. And the only person who hadn’t said a word to him about the subject, just cleaned the cut he had gotten on his palm and told him to keep himself safe.

He was grateful to her for that.

Rouge was Vanilla’s polar opposite, in regards to the string. She not only hid her string, she made a show of hiding it, commissioning custom blocker gloves and shoving the subject right back in the face of any poor soul who dared to question her about it. She had a million and one excuses for why she didn’t want to find her soulmate, all of them tiptoeing around the truth and never once touching on the actual reason why. She bragged about being able to date anyone she wanted even without showing her string off. She complained about not wanting to be tied down. She whined about how annoying societal expectations were. She crowed about the amount of people who desperately wanted to be her soulmate.

Sonic saw through all of this as the extravagant bullshit that it was, but he really had no idea what the actual reason was. Didn’t really care either. It wasn’t like she brought the subject up an annoying amount either, she was far more likely to yammer on for hours about her one and only actual love (jewels) than she was to start talking about literally any other subject (and if he could put up with the jewel talk, then he could put up with anything).

It was just that sometimes when they hung out, people would get the wrong idea about them. Sonic and one of his friends (a woman at that), both with blocker gloves, spending time together, alone? It was apparently unthinkable to some that they could just be friends. So they both made a big joke out of it, Rouge flaunting how untouchable she was and Sonic pretending to be heartbroken. It made for some hilarious think pieces about how Sonic was a bad role model, at the very least.

Still, he didn’t want to deal with all of that every time they hung out, which was why Rouge had dragged Shadow along with them this time, mentioning that he owed her for something.

So here they were, sequestered away in a tiny café, Rouge and Sonic talking about everything and nothing, while Shadow was also there, sipping delicately at his tea while Sonic chugged his large chocolate milkshake and Rouge got whipped cream from her hot chocolate all over her face.

Good times.

For once, the general populace seemed content to ignore them, at least for now, so the conversation went wherever it wanted to, Sonic and Rouge loud and energetic, Shadow quiet and solemn (despite the fact that there was nothing to be solemn about).

At least, nothing until Rouge spilled hot chocolate all over her glove.

“Ohgoddamnitshit,” Rouge said, all in one breath, dabbing at the stain on her very expensive glove with a napkin, a small frown on her face, before it turned into an outright scowl. “Oh come on-”

She shifted her wrist, and Sonic saw what had bothered her so much. Some of the liquid must have gotten into some of the actual electronics in the glove and messed with it, because Sonic could now see Rouge’s string. Rouge’s cut string.

Rouge groaned, and then shoved her hand under the table, her head in her other hand. “Not. A. Word.”

She said it lightly, like Sonic and Shadow had just seen her do something embarrassing instead of accidentally revealing that her supposed other half was dead and buried, but Sonic could hear the threat in her tone, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone about it anyway. He mimed sealing his lips shut, Shadow just gave her a terse nod, and before either of them could do anything Rouge had thrown some cash onto the table and ran out the front door, presumably to go home, get a new pair of blocker gloves, and hide her face from them for at least a couple months.

Sonic put his chocolate shake down on the table. He had a feeling it wouldn’t taste anywhere near as good as it did a second ago.

“I know Rouge already said as much, but if you tell anyone else about that, you’ll regret it,” Shadow said, the threat in his far less concealed than Rouge’s had been.

“I won’t, jeez,” Sonic said. “I’m not an asshole. And I don’t care about soulmates either.”

Shadow just raised an eyebrow at him, and Sonic glared back half-heartedly. “Those gloves serve a purpose, Sonic.”

“I only wear these because I’m a celebrity for some reason, and people think that makes it okay to pry into every detail of my life.”

“‘For some reason’,” Shadow said, mostly to himself, sounding incredulous. “That can’t seriously be the only reason you wear them.”

Well, it wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Shadow that. Especially when he had no idea what the other hedgehog thought about soulmates beyond just a general unwillingness to speak about the topic. He was born over 50 years ago and raised by a bunch of uptight scientists in literal outer space, so Sonic was curious if he had any different opinions from the general crowd he hung out with.

Shadow didn’t seem willing to share, so Sonic decided to push the issue. Just a bit. “Why do you wear blocker gloves?”

Shadow’s lips curled in a vaguely unpleasant way. “I don’t want to find my soulmate. That’s all.”

Well, that was an unsurprising and boring answer. “Okay, but what would you do if you met your soulmate and fell head-over-heels in love with them? Or if you’ve already met your soulmate, but didn’t know because of the gloves?”

“I wouldn’t fall in love with anyone. And I’m not even slightly concerned about the second possibility. There is nobody in my life who I would want to become my life partner.”

Sonic pouted at him, and something in his chest hurt, just a bit. “Nobody? Not even little old me?”

Shadow’s expression flickered, before it hardened again. “I hope, for your sake, that what you just said was a joke. I’m an immortal being, Sonic. My string will end up cut, at some point or another.”

“Hmm. Good point,” Sonic said. “Well, unless your soulmate is Omega, I guess.”

Shadow choked on his drink, and Sonic couldn’t help but grin like a maniac even as Shadow glared at him (it was less scary than normal, with tea dripping out of his mouth and into his chest fluff. He looked adorable. Sonic tried not to think about the fact that he thought Shadow was adorable).

Sonic decided against talking about it anymore for his own health (Shadow had proved he was more than willing to suplex Sonic through a table if he annoyed him too much), so instead he just waited for Shadow to finish his tea before handing him some gold rings to pay for the half-drunken milkshake. Shadow glared at the rings like they offended him. “They don’t accept those as payment in human establishments.”

“My mistake,” Sonic said cheekily. “Guess I’m dining and dashing. The next date will be my treat.”

And then he dashed before Shadow could actually suplex him through the table.

Sonic didn’t leave the city when he left the café, instead opting to nap on the nearest rooftop before night fell. Whenever he visited the big cities he always made sure to stay off the streets themselves. With so many people all locked into one tiny area, the red strings, thin and frail as they were, became far too many, all at once, hundreds and thousands and millions of them all crisscrossing their way across every visible surface, choking his view and making it impossible to run unless he wanted to be half-blind. So he stuck to the rooftops, and waited for night so he could at least get a good view for his trouble.

At night, the streets of every city lit up, suffused with a red glow, invisible during the day but radiant when the sun went down. The strings varied in size, thickness, length, how strong they were, how much they were moving, but every single one of them, collectively, bound people together in the most literal way possible. If you had a soulmate, it was impossible to get rid of your string. It would remain there until the day you died, so most people still said it was better to try and use it, to find happiness with your other half.

Sonic didn’t put much stock in that idea. Or in the idea of other halves existing in the first place. Some of his friends called him an idealist for thinking so, but he had always believed that people were complete by themselves, and that finding someone else made them something more than just themselves.

Shadow would probably call him an idealist for that, too. Even if he had a sneaking suspicion it was something close to what the other hedgehog thought.

Or maybe Shadow would just call him stupid.

High on his chosen perch, Sonic surveyed the glove on his right hand. Tails had made it for him. It was mostly pure white, just like his old gloves, but with a thin ring of silver at the bottom which made its purpose obvious. It looked professionally made. To everyone except him and Tails, it even looked like it worked.

When he removed it, his hands were bare, free from any string. He never had one in the past, and would probably never have one in the future. Sonic had learned a long time ago how people reacted when they realized he didn’t have a soulmate, and decided he hated it even back then. The gloves were a convenience, a way for him to avoid explaining himself, a preventative measure to stop everyone from looking at him like he was broken.

Because Sonic wasn’t broken. He only needed himself, so even if fate said he was doomed to be alone he was perfectly fine with that.

Sonic thought back to Shadow, in the café.

Well, there was a reason he had never put much stock in fate, either.

#project writes #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog

271 notes · View notes

helloaugustmoon · 3 months

Text

shamelessly inspired by this tiktok because my goodness?? the ENERGY. whEW.

Michael Jackson x she/her!reader

·˚ ◌༘͙[Privacy] ! ˊ

Every reporter hopes and prays for the opportunity to interview a man like Michael Jackson; not out of sincere interest or intention, for the most part, it is entirely for their own gain. To rephrase: every reporter hopes and prays for the opportunity to find out something about a man like Michael Jackson that nobody else has publicized, making them the first to exploit the new - and most likely, private - piece of information for their own notoriety. Being aware of this, Michael and his management preface every interview agreement with the clarification that any reporter who is given such an opportunity is required to list the intended questions for Michael, allowing him to choose which questions he then consents to answering on record. That said, there are instances where reporters simply can’t help themselves, so desperate for the scoop that they cannot resist asking a forbidden question. This particular interview is one in which Michael can foresee that very event occurring.

Of course, Michael didn’t miss the way the reporter’s eyes glinted when he glanced at you, then down at your left hand, to find an engagement ring. It’s to be expected. If you or Michael didn’t want your engagement to be publicised, you’d have kept the ring hidden, or removed it entirely. However, that didn’t warrant anyone to press further into the matter, or into your relationship.

“He’s going to ask.” You whisper into Michael’s ear when he leans down to kiss your cheek, moments before he’s due to head in front of the cameras and begin the interview.

“For the sake of his career, I’ll hope he won't.” Michael whispers to you in kind, leaving another lingering kiss on your cheek, the disguised threat in his words making you giggle.

A pacifist through and through, but when it comes to you? He’ll find every non-violent means of protecting you in this life and the next.

With a smile directed at you, Michael slips his sunglasses back on - hiding his eyes when you’re not the only soul to see them - and steps in front of the camera, sitting down in a chair placed center-frame. The camera starts rolling, the interview begins, and everything seems to be going as planned; the reporter is sticking to the questions Michael had circled - a copy of said list held tightly in your hands as you stand behind the camera, Michael having discussed each question with you prior to circling them, because in his words, “We’re a team, baby. Anything you don’t want out there, won’t be out there.”

Continuing down the list of questions, you take a deep breath, knowing that the very next question is the one you and Michael had been anticipating, and had specifically not consented to as part of this interview. The moment the reporter starts speaking again, your eyes widen.

“So, Michael, I feel I can’t continue this interview without addressing the elephant in the room; your beautiful fiancé is here with us!” The reporter exclaims, and Michael has to lift a hand to cover his mouth in an effort to hide his amusement.

“Yes, my fiancé is here- not that she’ll appreciate being referred to as the ‘elephant in the room’.” Michael responds, and from behind the camera, you can’t help rolling your eyes fondly. It was a bad choice of words from the reporter, nothing more, but Michael won’t even let that slide when it comes to you.

“Ah! My apologies, definitely wasn’t my intention! All the same, I’d like to say congratulations to the happy couple-“ The reporter continues, but Michael is quick to ever so politely interject.

“Thank you.” He says softly, in the hopes the reporter will move onto the next question. No such luck.

“And I can’t help asking the burning question, the one that’ll be on everyone’s minds from the moment they find out about this joyous occasion: when can we expect some…tiny dancers, shall we sa-“ The reporter is leaning forward in his chair opposite Michael, so thirsty for every facet of the response he can get from him.

This time, Michael’s interjection is less polite, and intended as a direct interruption.

“I did not circle that question.” He raises a hand pointedly, as if to chastise the reporter, but there’s a well placed smile on Michael’s face, and you’re hiding a smirk behind your hand.

If those sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes, you know there’d be a glint in his eyes that you could spot from a mile away.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t resist!” The reporter laughs, trying to play off Michael’s clear disapproval.

Keeping professionalism, Michael only nods in response, and the interview continues. It remains respectful from that point on, but the damage is done. In a matter of minutes, the interview is over, but it isn’t until the cameras are confirmed to have stopped rolling that Michael crosses one leg over the other and clasps his hands over his lap, staring intently at the reporter.

“Thanks so much for giving me this opportunity, I really do appreciate it.” The reporter gushes, and Michael nods slowly.

“That’s alright, not a problem. So long as you cut from the point you referred to my fiancé, until the next question I consented to you asking.” Michael says, his voice soft as ever, but sentiment firm; it’s not a request.

“Oh! O-Of course!” The reporter’s eyes widen.

“Good. An assistant of mine will stick around to check the cut version, but do apologize to whoever’s tasked with editing the footage down - I don’t mean to waste their time, but it’s like I said: I didn’t circle that question. It’d be in your best interest to resist, next time.” With a deliberately casual shrug, Michael rises from his chair and walks past the camera, over to you. He places a hand against the small of your back out of habit, bringing you a warm smile.

“Next time?” The reporter asks, his eyes lighting up.

Naturally, that’s what he chooses to focus on; his next opportunity to leech from Michael.

“Yes, next time. Not with me, of course. I don’t make friends of those who make any kind of comparison between the love of my life, and an elephant. Take care.” With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Michael nods curtly at the reporter and guides you out of the room.

Naturally, you are reeling from that interaction, seeing your fiancé as heated and icy in equal measure as you’ve ever seen him. It isn’t until the two of you are seated in the back of Michael’s limousine with his hand holding yours to his lap, that you find your voice.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that, you know.” You tell him softly, an almost shy smile on your face.

Removing his sunglasses and setting them down, Michael returns your smile and meets your eyes.

“I did, baby, I did. I told you: anything you don’t want getting out there, won’t get out. My boundaries may have been a playground for the press since I was young, but yours will be respected like a temple.” His voice is as tender and sweet as it always is when he talks to you. Using his free hand, Michael gently tips your head and places a soft kiss on your forehead, his thumb caressing yours.

While Michael’s threat lingered in the intricacies of his instruction and dismissal of the reporter, his team won’t be as respectful; that reporter will be added to the list that is watched by a dedicated team under Michael, who are handed a lawsuit faster than they can stammer out an apology, should they choose to speak on their ‘slip-ups’ during their interviews with Michael. At his instruction, of course, but that’s a side of his business he doesn’t necessarily need to share with you. All you need to know is that he takes care of you in every possible way that he can, and should anyone test that, Michael will take every opportunity and non-violent avenue to reinforce your boundaries. It is fair to say that when it comes to you, every reporter underestimates just how far Michael will go to protect you from the vultures that have attacked him for as long as he can remember. You will live a fairytale each and everyday, and anyone who tries to jeopardize that will face the true scale of the power that places Michael so high amongst the targets of the press.

#michael jackson #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagine #x reader #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #imagines

153 notes · View notes

rthko · 4 months

Note

Hey so here's a conversation you might or might not be interested in having but if you'd like to, it's been my understanding that you participate in the time honoured tradion of cruising (TM), so I was curious about how/why you first started engaging with that? Was it an intentional choice? Are there still live spots around where you live? Natural continuation from the grindr life? Feels like it isn't really a natural part of gay life for a lot of people these days and more of an active choice.

I do like having conversations like this! Now I do cruise, but not in the ways that first come to mind with the term "cruising." My experience is limited to bathhouses, bars, and parties with play spaces, but I haven't done it in, say, a park or a highway rest stop. Cruising refers to looking for sex in places known for the practice. Said sex does not have to occur there, so finding someone at a cruising spot and going to a second location is cruising, but a couple arranging to have sex in a park is not. There are definitely gray areas--is Grindr cruising, or is it an existential threat to the culture? What's the line between a plain old bar hookup and cruising? Is going to a cruising spot only to have sex with people you already knew cruising? Maybe someone reading this knows better than I do.

Knowing spots is and always has been a matter of word of mouth, but sites like squirt . org and Sniffies have made it a lot easier. People looking to cruise might look at these sites, or look for advice for their city in forums, or just know the right people who know their way around the "pickle parks." The spots I've been to are the easiest to find--obviously people are going to be having sex at a bathhouse. But there are other options--informal, discrete spots that don't (or can't) require an entry fee. You'd be surprised just how many there are, and not just in the cities you'd suspect. I just don't know much about this world, aside from the "official" brick and mortar spots.

I started going first out of curiosity, but then I kept finding more and more reasons. It wasn't a natural continuation from Grindr life but rather a reaction against it. I was sick of Grindr. I wanted to work on people skills, like dishing out and taking rejection respectfully, and without the ego-preserving move of a block button. I had a roommate and felt awkward inviting people over. I didn't have a car and had a hard time even getting to other people's places, and by the time I got there I'd lost my sexual appetite. I found being naked or in a towel in a space full of equally naked people helped me be at ease with my body. The men I had sex with couldn't find and contact me after the fact unless I deliberately gave them contact information. I felt more freedom to say no or change my mind in a place full of sexual possibilities than I would at someone else's apartment. I found a lot of reasons beyond finding voyeurism and exhibitionism hot--which I do.

I have learned not to focus too hard on the why. A lot of different types do it for a lot of different reasons, and that's part of the appeal for me. There are closeted and experimenting men, out and proud gays who view the baths as part of their identity, disrobed white collar professionals visiting my city for a conference, locals who can't host, and nobody's really asking who's who. This is the sort of contact that Samuel R Delany wrote about, overcoming the guiding rule of cities that we "don't talk to strangers." Michael Warner also has great writing on cruising and public sex, and challenges the idea that gay victory will look like normalcy and the end of cruising. Cruising is not as popular as it used to be, and I think it's important to acknowledge a lot of this comes down to policy and not a change in the gay conscience. Ironically, the very gentrification that scrubs away these spaces has made them necessarily through a tightening housing market where fewer people can host. I would not be surprised if I heard it confirmed that more gays lately are choosing to cruise--or already are and don't realize it. At the risk of over-simplified sentimentality, I'd be glad to hear it.

161 notes · View notes

sugurusdiscordmoderator · 4 months

Text

good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught !

ft. Satoru Gojo - MDNI 18+ - not proof read, sorry

“Cause in the back of the room where nobody looks, she’ll be with her boyfriend…they’re not reading books!”

you and Satoru decided to take as many college courses together as you could because your family didn’t exactly approve of him coming around often and you wanted to see him. Sneaking around has been a pain in the ass, especially as both 19 year olds with a very high sex drive. You happen to be in a freshman lecture hall, a history class needed for a general education requirement. Gojo told you what he wanted you to wear today (and of course you’re a good girl so you listen!!) Making heads turn all over campus with your perfectly curled hair, manicured nails, wearing a short black skirt and a pink sweater with knee high socks. You knew that guys on campus had an eye for you, but god, why would you look anywhere when there was Satoru Gojo?

You get to class later than Gojo today which is honestly shocking but you opt to sit with him in the back right corner of the lecture hall nobody pays attention in. His mouth all but waters when you walk in, your tits slightly bouncing as you happily walk up to him and do a spin to show off your outfit. “Look at you!” He coos but his thoughts are so much dirtier. As you sit down next to him and begin taking out your class materials from your bag his hand creeps up your bare thigh and he whispers, “such a good girl, I think you get a reward for listening to me.” His low sultry voice sends chills down your spine as you feel his hot breath against your ear. You blush, thinking about the last earth shattering sex you had in the private family bathroom of the arts building on campus last week. Satoru’s slender strong fingers slightly brush the tips against your thighs as he watches you try to hold onto your composure, but knowing you want this just as bad as him. Luckily with how you’re positioned in this corner, nobody else will be able to see what you two are doing under the desk. You wonder if Gojo had already scoped that out or if he did this with another girl before. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Satoru presses the tips of his pointer and middle finger against the wet patch of your lace thong. He whispers “what color did you wear for me princess?” Your breath hitches as he moves the panties to the side to directly touch your wetness now. “Pink,” you say under your breath as you feel his middle finger creep inside your entrance. Your tight little cunt immediately grows wetter at the feeling of your boyfriend inside you, let alone in public like this. He maneuvers his hand so he is able to pump two fingers into you while he rubs against your clit. You’re drooling, covering your mouth with the soft sleeves of your baby pink sweater. The professor is talking about some boring shit you’ll catch up on later, but you just hope it doesn’t get too quiet in the room so the people around you don’t hear your obscene pussy squelches. Satoru adds a third finger to really watch you squirm, sitting there with a smug grin on his face, eyes hidden behind his round black sunglasses. Luckily your professor plays a YouTube video about something you couldn’t care less about, and the volume is a little too loud in the room over the loud speakers. Your rebel boyfriend takes this opportunity to speed up his motions, curling his fingers up into the spot that makes you whimper. He wants to ruin you. Rip your knee highs, steal your panties, smudge your lipstick, and get rid of your good girl reputation. His eyes roll to the back of his head thinking about it, and he has to suppress a moan at how wet you are. At this point your head is in your hands, not wanting anyone to see your pathetic face or hear your whorish whimpering. Satoru leans over knowing how close you are and demands, “cum for me darling, cum for me in this classroom like the little slut you are.” His voice sends you over the edge, your cunt clenching around his fingers and juices dripping down his fingers and on your chair. The lights come back on as the youtube video ends and Satoru gets to see just how disheveled you look. Rosy cheeks and swollen bottom lip from biting down on it so hard, you stare into his eyes with your mouth slightly agape, still catching your breath. He removes his fingers bringing two of them up to his mouth and you watch him suck them clean and leave his pointer finger still with your wetness on it and sticks it into your mouth. Your eyes are wide in shock but you lick it clean. Soon after class is dismissed and you realized you hadn't learned a single thing. You huff packing your things when your bad boy boyfriend chimes in, "Come back to my place, we can go over all the stuff we missed."

“Cause every night she studies hard in her room (at least that's what her parents assume!) but she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend, here’s what she told me the time that I caught her!”

As a sheltered, spoiled, princess, you still live at home and commute to college. That is part of the reason that your relationship with Gojo has been so...complex. He basically gets off to the fact he is corrupting you and you want to break out of your good girl mold so bad. You tell your parents that you have a midterm the next day, so you really need to study and for them to please don't interrupt. You've never given your parents a reason to doubt you, so why would they come check on you? However your midterm was actually next week, and Satoru was picking you up down the street to sneak around. You leave music playing on your laptop like you normally do when you're studying and unlock your window. Luckily your bedroom is on the bottom floor of the house, and you've prepared so you have a little step stool hidden to get in and out of the window gracefully. You wear tight flared jeans, a cropped babydoll tee that has the Bratz logo and a light jacket over top since it is still brisk. You jog down the street and Satoru turns his head lights back on as soon as he sees you. As soon as your in the passenger seat his lips find your neck, "fuck it's good to see you," he grumbles taking a deep inhale of your perfume.

"Where are we going?" you ask taking your phone out of your back pocket and buckling your seat belt. "Don't worry that pretty little head princess, I have it figured out." Gojo u-turns and starts driving on roads you haven't been on despite living here your whole life. You end up at a cemetery of all places, but a beautiful cemetery that overlooks the whole city and is very secluded. As he parks he pulls out his weed pen, and he waves it in front of your face, knowin how your eyes light up when you see it. "Be a good girl and get in the back seat and I'll let you use it." You climb over the center console to the back of his surprisingly spacious luxury car, and he has to give into his temptation of smacking your ass while you're bent over for him like that, giggling at how easily you submit to him. He opts to get out of the driver seat and go through the back door, handing you the pen and letting you take a rip. Despite the good girl persona, you can handle your weed and look beautiful doing it. You pass it back and forth a few times, watching tiktoks together. Satoru gives into the temptation and begins kissing your ear, neck, and collar bone as he tries to seduce you. (hint: he succeeds). Soon he has your shirt off, to his surprise with no bra under it. "God, you were just waiting to strip for me weren't you?" He smirks as his hands caress your chest, rubbing his thumbs over your hardened nipples. Your hand reaches down to start rubbing him through his black jeans. He unbuttons your jeans and strips them off to leave you patiently sitting with just your maroon g-string left on, the cold leather of the seats heightening your senses even more. Satoru starts stripping his all black ensemble, pulling you onto his lap when it is just his black boxer briefs left. His tongue pushes into your mouth taking control of the heated kiss. You have one hand on the back of his neck and the other pressing up against the back window which has already started to fog up. Your hips grind against him, his hands situation on your ass to help your rhythm, although you hardly need it. Being on top and trying to take charge has brought you a whole new thrill, running your long nails down his chest as you move your mouth to his pale neck skin. Satoru has give you enough hickies that you've had to figure out how to hide, so it might as well be time to pay him back. Sucking, licking, and biting at his sensitive skin has him breathing heavier. He takes this opportunity to slide his fingers down from your ass cheeks to your core, rubbing your wet mound over the little fabric there. You moan into him as you lick a stripe up his adam's apple. Satoru swears there is a new, different, look in your eyes tonight, and he can't help but love it.

"Fuck, my naughty girl, I love it." he whispers seductively in your ear. You pull at the waist band of his boxers, signifying that you can't wait any longer. "Wan' you inside 'Toru," you moan as his fingers circle around your wet hole and clit. He lifts your hips up just enough to slide down his boxers, his hard length slapping against his stomach when he does, making you smile. You waste no time spitting on your hand to lubricate his cock for a few pumps, making him throw his head back against the headrest. You position him at your entrance rubbing his tip against your clit a few times just to tease him. He wonders if you'll be able to handle this position, after all he is larger than the average male even if you have ridden a dick before. You begin sliding down him inch by inch, taking more as he praises you, "good girl, good fucking girl." Satoru watches your face contort from pleasure to pain and back again as you slide the whole way down, feeling his tip perfectly snug up against your cervix. You slowly work your way back up and down, with help from Satoru's grip on your hips. He is going crazy at how good you look, wanting to fuck you so hard you cant walk tomorrow, but he knows he can't do that in this position. "Baby girl, you've done so so good. Can I take over now?" You sigh with a little relief, your legs were getting sore. "Yes please," you desperately look up at him, obsessed with the way he dicks you down. Satoru lifts you off his cock which is now slick and drenched, and he flips you over to you are on you knees, hands up against the car door and bent over slightly. Not only did you love doggy, but Satoru was a little too tall for most other positions in the car. He takes his time, spreading your cheeks and looking at "his holes" before spitting and watching it drip down you, and a little landing on the leather seat. He presses his tip back up against your tight hole, "are you ready pretty girl?" He coos while rubbing his free hand over your soft ass cheek before leaving a harsh slap, making you yelp. "I asked are you ready?" His tone seemed to be mocking you with the way he knew you would respond. "Y-yes sir!" you whimpered out, cause him to smile and push his hard length inside you again. After a few slow strokes he picks up a relentless pace, your cheek rubbing up against the fogged window with every thrust. "mmm, fuck yes, my nasty little girl," Satoru moaned pushing your head up against the car door (gently) while caressing the little tears slipping out from your eyes watering. He knew when your eyes started watering from pleasure, you would be reaching your limit soon. He backed you up, saying "face down baby," and you knew what that meant. You stuck your ass up for him and arched your back beautifully, him bullying into you hitting your favorite spot. Your moans were uncontrollable now, loud and making Satoru's cock throb. Your nails left light scratch marks against the leather seats, something he would normally be upset about, but how could he be mad about this? It was something to remember you by. Completely mesmerized by the view in front of him, he almost missed the way you choked out, "T-Toru, I'm.. coming!" And you arched your back even further as your pleasure reached a new high, releasing a high pitched whimper/cry of "Satoruuu", which sent your boyfriend over the edge, him pulling out quickly to coat your lower back with his hot cum. "Fuck, fuck, yes, y/n, good girl," his moans and grunts were quieter than yours, you barely heard them in your dazed post-orgasm state. He grabbed his phone off the front seat, "stay like that darling," and took a picture with the flash, and hit the send button to his group of bad boy fuck boys, loving that you were happy to be showed off.

“She said to me, "forget what you thought, ‘cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught!"

You walked into a shared class with Satoru and noticed a few more eyes on you than normal. You had a big election coming up for Student Government so you thought maybe people had seen your campaign. You went to the bathroom since you had a few minutes before class started, adjusting your cute blazer and skirt duo and making sure your hair and makeup looked just right. Two girls walked in and started giggling at you, which was when you realized that something was probably wrong. You head back to the classroom where Satoru still isn't but his friends Shoko and Suguru were sitting near your seats. You whisper "Hey, do you guys know if something is wrong? I haven't seen Satoru yet and everyone's been giving me weird looks." The pair look at each other cautiously before Shoko slides you her phone open to twitter. Sure enough, a video of you giving Satoru head in a classroom on campus and he proceeds to fuck you on a desk has gotten out. "Oh. my. god." Your face turns red and you look up to the adjacent friends with concern.

"Sorry you had to find out this way... Satoru's phone got stolen and hacked..." Suguru averts eye contact now that he has seen what your eyes look like while you have his best friends cock in your mouth.

Speak of the devil, your boyfriend walks in looking worse than ever (which says something because he always looks perfect). The second he meets your eyes he hugs you and kisses your forehead. "I'm sorry... I understand if you blame me." Sure, you're embarrassed but you can't be too upset with your sweet boyfriend, the whole school has seen his cock as well as your body so you're kind of in this together. You muster up a smile, "It's fine Satoru," and with that Shoko and Suguru turn back around to their seats and leave the conversation. Satoru holds your hand throughout the whole class while you scroll through twitter to see the damage. One user named Toji_Fushi replied to the video, "I guess the good girl persona of her's is up. She has my vote" He must be an upper classman that has heard of and seen you that you don't know. Another user, meixmei responded to his tweet saying, "good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught."

So just turn around and forget what you saw, ‘cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught!”

Well, the aftermath of the video wasn't everything you thought. Your parents were so upset they told you to find somewhere to stay for a while. That's when you told them about your boyfriend Satoru, a bad boy that your family had heard of well enough. Your mother gasped and father shook his head. His black sports car pulls in the driveway right on cue and you take the few bags you packed and waltz out the front door. To your surprise, Satoru got out of the car, walked up to your shocked parents and shook their hands before slapping your ass as you put the bags in the trunk and taking you back to his apartment.

You won the student government election, you think it was just because guys found you even more irresistible. Satoru tried to convince you you're a great person and you still can be his good girl, even if other people think you're a bad girl now.

Satoru is so glad he accidentally sent that video of you two to his friends, even though he doesn't know who leaked it, he has you in the palm of his hands. But, that isn't something you ever have to find out!

Plus, the videos of you two have really gotten popular on this new site, OnlyFans. You don't mind being bad if it's with him.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk smut #gojo brainrot #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo smut #Spotify

180 notes · View notes

usedpidemo · 1 year

Text

Bias wrecked (Le sserafim Chaewon)

There are cameras everywhere, but they don’t really care about you.

You’re in front of a room filled with thousands in attendance, but most of them don’t care about you. And the very few that are actually there for you—you certainly couldn’t tell apart when they’re all the way at the back.

The audience erupts in cheers, but they’re not meant for you.

It’s fine. Nothing new, really. You’ve learned to liken the noise to artificial, pre-recorded cheers, the ones you’ve been listening to for the last couple of years. Perhaps the day will come when these people will be screaming your name, but the chances are as low as you being on that stage to begin with.

The winners say their little thanks of appreciation to the fans, delivered with concise and flawless execution, as if it had already been decided beforehand. Knowing the other nominee’s absence, it likely seems to be the case. Then again, this is already their 15th music show win after debuting a little over a year ago. On the other hand, your group debuted right at the same time they made their comeback. It would be considered reckless, downright stupid in the hands of a relatively larger company, but this is some fresh start-up with you and your members as their first experiment. You gain fans, and the sales are surprisingly decent for a new boy group from a completely unknown label, but otherwise, you’re another name that has Nugu Promoter labeled all over it.

It’s a volatile profession where only the rich get richer. You don’t even know if you’ll even make it past the end of the year. Any hopes of public attention, let alone a music show win is basically blind optimism at this point.

While your peers around you will continue with their promotions, this is your last one. Two weeks for a newly debuted group sounds sacrilegious, but money is a scarcity. Using recycled outfits for the last two shows should have been a dead giveaway, a glaring red flag, that you’re in deep waters, but nobody cares.

Really, no one does. Ask anyone in that room and they’ll probably think you never actually existed.

You’re smiling, acting as if the dozens of cameras are pointed right at you, but in reality, you’re just empty space.

You’re just happy to be there.

So when the encore plays, everyone leaves the stage, and after you exchange courtesy bows with the seniors that go overlooked in favor of their more recognizable peers, the heavy weight of being an idol is removed. Your lips loosen up, your eyes rapidly blink; one by one, you’re peeling off the mask, the persona that is required of any performer. All at once, a million things spring to mind. The members, the fans, the company, your future—it’s all things you have to worry about. It’s wise not to think about any of it, but you can’t help but wonder if you were better off not chasing your dreams if you knew this was where you’d end up.

Still, it does have some rewards.

Even though the cameras catch you in the act, and it’s broadcasted out for everyone to see, you’ve been peeking at the women beside you. That’s one benefit of being a nobody; there’s no public outrage or melodramatic outcry, and the few that notice play it off as some kind of inside joke. Anyone else in your position would facing the prospect of career suicide. It’s still unbelievable that the same idols you’ve watched and inspired you to pursue that dream are at an arm’s reach. Competitive releases be damned, you’d happily go unnoticed if it meant you’d end up next to some of the hottest idols right now.

Passing along a few hallways to your dressing room, you’re reminded of another blessing: that you don’t have to waste five minutes of your time doing superfluous Tiktok challenges. There’s a pair of guys that barely know each other performing some point choreo they clearly googled on the spot, and you can evidently discern by their deadpan expressions that they don’t want any part of it. Of course, it’d be hypocritical for you to say you’re better—you’ve been forced into it—but it serves as a cue to hurry up before you get dragged along too.

Regrouping with your members at your dressing room, they’re slumped back on the lone couch, completely drained of their energy. They’ve been in performance mode since dawn. Better for the group’s overall health that there’s nothing else after this, but worse for your overall popularity. You need to get out there more, but that’s beyond what your company can provide.

“Great job everyone,” says your leader, peppy as he’s always been, but the members don’t reciprocate his energy. It’s deflating from every angle. His attitude mirrors yours: blindly optimistic about the group’s potential success. However, you recognize the reality of the situation. You feel bad. “We all deserve a rest after that.”

Sure enough, they’re right ahead of him, proven by the loud snores that fill the room. Another demoralizing response. It’s painful and awkward to watch. His efforts to uplift the team are completely genuine, only to be met with such lackluster reception. It’s the story of the promotions so far: trying your damned hardest, performing as if your lives are on the line, only to come up short of what you’ve worked hard for and looking defeated when you head backstage.

This is the price of being sold a plastic dream. This isn’t your first rodeo, either. You started from a relatively big company, put yourself out there when survival programs came knocking at your door, but it ultimately led to nothing. The label must have seen the writing on the wall when they dropped you after you were eliminated on the first evaluation. It’s cold, it’s callous, but it’s ultimately business, nothing personal. You probably should have seen the signs too, but your stubbornness has you believing in miracles. Hey, it worked out for a few forgotten names before. Anything is possible.

Suddenly, a manager walks into the room, phone in hand. Right. There’s a scheduled livestream for your fans in less than an hour. None of you get access to your phones until you reach 50,000 album sales, chart in the top 100, or win a music show—none of which seem likely to happen at this rate. He gives the phone to your leader and tells him to get everyone ready before promptly leaving again.

“Excuse me, I’ll just go and clean up. I won’t be long,” you say gently to your senior, who simply waves you off and allows you to leave.

—————

The SBS building isn’t a huge one, at least compared to the KBS building, but you might as well appreciate every moment you’re lost inside it. You don’t know when you’ll ever step foot inside its corridors again, if ever.

So, when you happen to walk past a room you have no business being close to and cross paths with an idol, it must be fate. The dream isn’t dead—for now.

“Hey!” Her little voice suddenly snaps you from your wandering mind.

You impulsively bow, completely taken by surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry—wait!”

After a brief exchange of formalities, she meets your eyes with a familiar smile. “Yes?”

You swear you’ve never felt your heart beat out of your chest this rapidly, yet the feeling is only starting to sink in. A reminder that you’re still carrying those innocent dreams with you.

“Chaewon!” You shout her name out so loud it’s practically demanding attention. Both your hands cover your mouth almost immediately. It’s laughable how painfully obvious your excitement is upon being recognized—and who wouldn’t be? She giggles and smiles widely back, and you forget you’re also an idol like her—not some fanboy who only sees her occasionally behind a screen. A less successful, less recognizable one, but still an idol.

“Oh? You look kinda familiar.” Chaewon raises an eyebrow, inches her warm face a bit closer. She scans you as if you’ve got something that ticks. And as if that wasn’t enough of a validation, she adds, “I don’t remember what group you’re from, but you look cool.”

“Um—well thank you, that means a lot.” Whether she meant it or not, the way you helplessly stumble through your words says it all. Knowing her schedule, her success, and everything else in between, you’re probably the least of her concern.

Her eyes suddenly sparkle; the pieces are starting to come together. “Of course! I remember now!” Her hands are folded together, her tone earnest and respectful, even though you’re supposed to be a nobody. No wonder she’s one of your biases and one of your inspirations in pursuing an idol career. Even though you’ve shared the stage a handful of times already, this feels like the peak of your existence, and it’s all downhill from here. “We watched your performance while waiting. You were great!”

This is too much to digest. You’re supposed to be back in your own dressing room by now, but here you are, consumed by your love and admiration for an idol being reciprocated back to you. You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward, let alone end it. Forget that her members are on the other side of that door, probably overhearing the conversation. They’ve got new new material to pile and make fun of, but fuck that. She doesn’t seem to mind standing here all day either.

“Wanna record a challenge with me?” she asks, and you can’t turn down this one in a million opportunity, no matter how much you despise the concept and everything it stands for. You’re nodding, and the level of enthusiasm you show betrays your code so easily, it's borderline criminal. It's Kim Chaewon, after all; you’ll break any rule just for her.

—————

Safe to say, there’s levels in this industry, and you’re practically placing an open target on yourself for everyone on the internet. That isn’t to say you’re not trying, it’s just very obvious that Chaewon clearly outperforms you. It’s the sort of gap that generates more questions than answers. You’ve already written down the inevitable comments from Twitter and Panchoa in your head: He went to the Jay Park school of performing! Free Chaewon from these nugus! Why is Chaewon dancing with a MAN? Among many, unsavory variations.

It’s all in good fun, at least between you two. You miss a step, miss another, quickly fall behind to the song, and it’s utter disrespect to the artist inviting you to perform with her. Nevertheless, she plays it off with a laugh, helping you through the motions until you end up with a serviceable final cut. It’s not going to break the internet, and it certainly won’t bring your group any attention, but it’s watchable—at least, you believe it is.

(Except you can only last a second watching yourself struggling to keep up before you look away.)

“Looks great! Everyone’s going to love this one,” says Chaewon, looking at your twentieth recording smiling, beaming with optimism that you’ll somehow get a share of attention for doing this when in reality, she’s the only one getting clout. “Do you want to record your song next?”

You’re well past your limit. You don’t make exceptions for that. “I’m good! I think that’s enough Tiktok for the day.”

“Heh.” Chaewon returns her phone to her pants’ pocket, chuckling at your response. “I get it. Tiktok challenges are so exhausting.”

“I can’t imagine what it's like for you then.”

“You have no idea.”

Moments pass without a word. Dilly-dallying at some isolated corridor is fun when you’re with someone you admire, but you both have schedules to fulfill. Her managers are probably fuming right now; even a five minute absence may have thrown off the rest of their day’s agenda. Time is their biggest scarcity—a resource you wish they weren’t lacking.

“I’ve kept you away longer than they want, probably,” you say, weaving around the idea that you don’t want to let her go just yet. “But it’s been fun.”

“Right.” Her eyes look ahead with alarming focus. She sees nothing, but they’re glinting as if she struck gold. “We have enough time to do one more thing.”

Chaewon turns around to grab you by your cheeks. You’re halfway to holding her arms when you suddenly stop. This is foreign. This feels—good. You like her warmth radiating all over your face. You’re about to mouth your foremost thought into words. What are you doing? is etched all over your lips, but she’s right ahead of you, answering that question with a resounding statement.

She kisses you, and it spirals out of control faster than your presumed career.

It’s so abrupt, so out of character. Suppress it all you can, you find no other urge than to give to your baser instincts. You hum as she passionately pulls you close, wanting more territory to sink in. She bites your lower lip. It’s mine now, says her narrow eyes that pierce through your soul, as if persuading you to give up. No. You’ve already raised the white flag.

Your hands explore and roam her back. Her outfit provides so much skin, yet leaves enough for your imagination to fill in the gaps. Hips, waist, and butt—you find your hands firmly groping at them more than any other part of her tight, lithe figure. She moans, she rasps against your neck, she finds solace in your arms, embracing the sudden sensations pulsing through her body. “Fuck—”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here,” you whisper in her ear, your eyes circling the corridors for signs.

She kisses your side, pulls you closer to her, unwilling to let go. She’ll hug you into submission if she needs to.

“This happens all the time around these parts,” she replies, tone flattering. Unreasonable of an excuse it may be, the loud emptiness of the place provides sufficient evidence to support her. “Nobody gives a shit.”

“But what about the—”

She interrupts you with a deep kiss on the lips. No amount of convincing will change her mind. It’s settled. From there, your instincts do the rest.

At first, you find it difficult to pull yourself away from her kiss. Her lips taste sweet, heavenly, and everything you’d expect from a sweet-faced cutie like Chaewon. Her hand grips the back of your neck, keeps you still, keeps your gaze lingering on hers. A devilish smirk on her lips forms while she continues to crash into you, her eyes pleading you to stay perfectly still—like you have anywhere else to go after this.

“God, I didn’t expect someone like you to be this—” Chaewon interrupts you with another direct kiss, as anticipated. You’re still talking; she’ll have to tape your lips with hers if she wants any progress, but maybe that’s her goal. “—needy.”

Her grin widens, barely suppressing a giggle, as if this is common knowledge. “Mmm. You’ll love being an idol, then.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious and confused. “Huh? What do you mean?”

She pushes you into her, bearing the brunt of your weight that you end up crashing forward against the wall. Your shared gasp and grunt is mild compared to the thunderous thump that reverberates throughout the hallway. If no one had a clue till now, now there’s arrows pointed in your direction.

“You’ll enjoy this job.” Chaewon then pushes you away, leaving you even more hazy. Holding out her arms, she follows, “Now take my clothes off, will you?”

“Really? Here?” Your eyes dart left and right, cautious and tense. Forget about your nonexistent career; you’re thinking about how it will affect hers.

“Relax. They don’t care, like I said,” she replies, calm and collected, like this is nothing new to her. She must be doing this often to the point where she has full confidence to pull these acts on the regular. You’re gradually putting two and two together, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is wrong. “It’s all right. Let me ease you into it.”

It’s bewildering—sacrilegious outright—but you can’t look away. She truly embodies their fearless concept. Pants and underwear slide down her legs smoothly before she kicks them aside. Your gaze lingers at the crumpled clothes on the floor, jaw slacked in utter disbelief. Kissing and dating is one thing, but to watch an idol openly undress is on a whole other plane of fictitious you previously thought never existed.

“C’mon. This top is yours,” says Chaewon with a smile, guiding your hand toward one of the straps of her bra. It takes a little while to snap you from your daze, but when you finally look past the insanity of the moment, your inhibition slips. You’ll let the moment lead you to its intended climax.

So it goes. Except for the cuff on her left arm, Chaewon stands completely naked before you, emboldened and amused by the shock and awe gripping your soul. For the most part, you’ve mostly come to terms with the madness of it all, but you’re shaken up to your very foundations. Everything you know is completely tipped on its head.

Her words ring inside your head, loud and clear. You’ll love being an idol. If this is what the idol life entails, then all that blood, sweat, and tears was completely worth it—even if only for this one moment.

—————

Chaewon’s fingers run through your hair, having abandoned any semblance of subtlety by the loud mewls and whines that leave her lips, while you admire her slutty little figure. You don’t intend to rush through the moment, not when there’s so much creamy skin to feast on. Neck, collarbones, and breast—you slowly wander down her body, giving each part its rightfully due praise. She’s smaller and shorter than you; you can easily sweep her off her feet and ruin her, but an idol like her deserves to be worshiped. She knows how much attention she draws and she fucking loves it.

“I never—” A kiss on her creamy skin. “Expected you—” and again. “To be so—” and another. “Fucking hot.”

“Mmm. Not the first time I’ve heard it,” whines Chaewon, moaning as you drool all over her toned belly. She grabs at the collar of your shirt, recognizes that you’re near that tempting, forbidding zone. It does little to distract when her body demands attention at all times.

You finally reach her core, see how incomprehensibly wet her pussy is. Surely she’s getting some between tiresome schedules, whether it's from her members or managers or other idols. Why she wants you of all people, you have no idea, but you’ll certainly oblige.

“Mmm, fuck—mmm!” Chaewon’s whine rises a pitch higher, nails digging into the fabric of your shirt as you dive into her splayed cunt without hesitation. Squeezing your hands into her thighs, you lap her folds up and down, up and down. Slick fills you, pools down your lips and chin, loosely spills onto the floor—as if the lewd screams reverberating throughout the floor aren’t enough of a dead giveaway.

Looking up, you closely observe how she crumbles so quickly. It’s a beautiful trainwreck to see. There’s a hint of cuteness from the gleeful smile etched on her lips. Face completely flustered, body tingling with all-consuming bliss as you feast on her sensitive core. Between frantic whines, she gazes down while you eat her, meet halfway, and there’s nothing but toned variants of profanities and wanton pleading dripping from her tongue.

“More. Fuck. So good. Don’t stop.”

She sighs, rests her shoulders down as she melts into you. Wrapping a leg around your neck, your tongue flattens against her pussy. It’s soft, it’s wet, it’s everything you need. You drink her clean like she’s water in a desert. Her raised thigh quivers, and the trembling arouses you, pushes you deeper into her sweet nectar for you to freely consume. Every motion on her tender clit drives Chaewon crazier by the second, making her scream wildly, losing herself in bodily ecstasy.

Her breath tenses and shortens. The notion of your tongue bringing her to ruin causes her to grind her hips against your face. She’s making sure you take her body and make it yours. It’s hot, it’s heavy, it drives her torso against the wall, shaking the very foundations of the floor you’re eating her out on.

“So—close,” she barely manages to huff out, one eye looking at you consumed by lust and determined to eat her clean. Your response is maintaining the steady pace you lick and pleasure her cunt, and it sends her spiraling back out of control. She rolls her head back, almost hurting herself against the wall, and she trembles, and shakes and—

“Shit!”

The world around you fades. You drown under a violent gush of slick and wet juices. The overwhelming flow of her heat spills all over the floor. Chaewon violently quakes as you relish in her tight, suffocating warmth. She’s overcome by her orgasm, completely flushed in a haze, gripping the back of your skull with her sharp nails, holding on for dear life.

“Jesus,” she mutters between deep breaths. “That mouth of yours—”

“Mmm.” One more lick of her cunt before you regretfully leave. It sends an aftershock that sends chills all over her body. Kissing up to her toned belly as her hanging leg gracefully lands on the ground, you follow, “I never expected idol pussy to taste this good.”

Drained, she sighs and lowers her head, taking a moment to collect herself. “I can’t imagine what that cock is like.”

Silently chuckling, you lift yourself off the ground and begin to fiddle with your zipper. “Why don’t you find out?”

Almost immediately, Chaewon’s strength returns to her and you both change positions. She falls to her knees as quick as gravity slides down your pants. Wrapping both hands around your boxers, your raging erection springs free when she rips the intrusive fabric off you. Free from the discomfort of having to hold yourself back, you plant a hand on her frazzled hair.

“Suck my cock, Chaewon.”

“That was always the plan.”

The confident smile on your face after she says it drops for a groan when she grabs you by your base. Her fingers slowly but firmly wrap around your cock like a snake, casting you in a dizzying spell. It leaves you lightheaded, has you holding her hair tightly like she did yours, and forces you against the wall for support.

Your moan overpowers the initial hum she makes when she slips your cock inside her mouth. No teasing, no pretense. She takes you in right away, her patience completely tossed aside from your agonizing build up. It’s a brutal, crushing feeling. Her lips are anything but gentle when she takes you deep in her mouth, in addition to the grip of her palm on your full balls.

“Jesus! Too much!” You cup Chaewon’s face, finding yourself unable to face her, enraptured by a simultaneous shot of pain and pleasure—much to her delight. Being a senior, you’d assume she’d be gentle and gracious enough to have some control. “Take it easy, Chaewon.”

She releases your cock from her mouth with an audible pop, your tip pooling with her spit down to your hilt. “First time I’ve ever heard that from an idol. Everyone likes it rough.”

“Yes, but—”

“Tell me when I’m being rough and I’ll ease up, got it?”

Chaewon smiles, and it's the strongest sign of reassurance that keeps you from falling, even if the world ends tomorrow. Quite the juxtaposition when she reinserts your cock inside her mouth, attitude gleeful, like it’s an honor to have such a thing between her pretty lips. There’s no complaint—and why would you even consider the thought; you have one of the most talented and popular idols sucking your cock—even when your tip scratches her throat, sending repeated pulses of shock and pain that immediately part for suffocating pleasure.

“Oh, oh my God—fuck—” Her hair’s turned into a makeshift handlebar by how much you’re gripping onto them for dear life. Closing your eyes, you let ecstasy wash over you, allow that rapid growing knot in your stomach drive you wild. It’s excruciating, but so intoxicating. You want to say something in protest, like she promised, but you recognize the possibility of missing out on feeling this fucking good again. “Y-you’re incredible, Chaewon.”

She hums with amusement watching you fall apart. It’s the story of your life so far: an unexpected build up that ends with a predictable outcome. You wouldn’t be surprised if this moment follows every other script. That’s how fate works. Luck can only take you so far.

So it shocks absolutely no one when you push your luck again, trying to alter destiny. “Keep going, Chae. You feel so fucking good.”

Her suction grips you, leaves you weak in the knees. Both your hands desperately cling to her hair; you’re threatening to rip her locks when you drag your fingers off. What should mostly be Chaewon’s work is now shared by your hips, lightly thrusting and pumping your cock deep into her needy mouth. It doesn’t faze her in the slightest; in fact, she more than welcomes your effort. She twists her lips into a discernible smirk, watching you fall for her like everyone else.

It’s teasing, it’s mean, it’s borderline cruel. Her fingers coil around your shaft again. It’s clear who’s piloting the ship; after all, she’s your senior, so it’s not like you have any other choice but to yield. You get the shivers, unsure of whether it’s from the constant sensations jolting your entire body or from the serious gaze she flashes you. She makes it vivid; she’s fucking her mouth on your cock, not the other way around. Observing your rigid response, her eyes linger, watching every little muscle shake and tremble, as if expecting some kind of result.

And she almost gets it.

Sweltering, smothering heat envelops you. Out of control into a freefall. Words are unnecessary to express how close you are, barely hanging on by the thinnest of threads. Even when you try to mouth I’m cumming, it only comes out as air. Unable to keep your eyes off Chaewon, the earnest cocksucker she is, you close them, clearing your thoughts. But that proves to be impossible when she makes it so wet, so melodic, and so filthy—an all-out assault on your senses, poking through the last of your defenses.

Fuck.

You finally slip. In the throes of your orgasm, your mind doesn’t register the groan you utter that may as well be heard by the entire building. Chaewon’s name drips from your lips, falling in between a sea of inundated moans. Its delivery is very clear, but it rings through your ears as nothing but a mere afterthought. She giggles and chuckles as you cum for her, swallowing up almost everything down her throat.

Your eyes reopen to a wondrous sight. Chaewon’s face is mostly coated with your hot, thick, sticky sheen. Her slick tongue laps away at her chin, at her cheeks, while spreading your cum between her fingers. Hair beyond fixing, she brushes it off, but it proves to be annoying—doesn’t matter in the end. She catches you staring, recognizes the filthy position she’s in, and plays into the act. Hand gripped on your cock, she licks you clean while it throbs and withers away.

“Goodness, Chaewon.” You comment matter-of-factly, resting a hand on her shoulder, bending your knees out of exhaustion. “You’re unquenchable.”

She gives your cock one final kiss before propping herself back to her feet. “It’s a stressful job, but I love it. Especially when it’s a cock like yours,” she giggles, “It makes my day worth it.”

Grinning at her response, you've never felt any more validated. As you recover from your orgasm, there’s a sense of uncertainty lurking over your shadow. A sudden realization hits you. “Oh God—”

Chaewon seemingly reads your mind, laughing at your newfound struggle. “Mhm. This pussy could have used your cock inside it. I wished we had more time. Too bad.”

It now dawns on you that you won't ever get the opportunity. You were so fixated on her excellent blowjob that the thought never came up—it did, but it’s too little too late. The only response you have is one simple but emphatic and drawn out ugh.

“Be a good junior and grab my clothes, will you?” says Chaewon, grinning radiantly. Bitter as you are, you can’t turn down her request. Grumbling through gritted teeth, you hastily grab the neglected heap on the floor and hand her outfit back. You don’t make eye contact with her through it all, lest the sourness of the moment grow.

“Thanks.” She kisses you on the cheek while you struggle to smile through your pain. “Until next time.”

Her departure doesn’t process in your mind for a little bit. The thought doesn’t occur to you that she left you as is, walking around the building completely naked. Knowing her, she likely does this on the regular, or that everyone is numb to it by now.

Slowly but surely, you put yourself back together. The phone you’ve quietly smuggled within your pants rings, but you leave the caller hanging. When you finally muster up the strength to dig through your pocket, a stream of notifications flood your screen. 42 texts—37 from your manager, including six missed calls and five from an unknown number.

Forget that you missed the scheduled livestream by around 20 minutes. By the time you return to your dressing room, the place is already cleared out. You don’t bother calling your manager or any of your members. Management probably terminated your contract already on some bullshit grounds. It’s fine; you don’t believe you’ll make it past your debut, let alone the rest of the year.

Instead, you read through the anonymous number, and the messages leave you feeling giddy again.

> I knew why you looked so familiar! Yunjin told me all about you. You both attended the same school in America! How cute!

> Here’s the address to the HYBE building. Tell no one, obviously. Don’t keep us waiting :P

> kisses,

> k.cw. <3

—————

(A/N: Holy shit a pi fic that didn't take more than two weeks to make! A summer's day miracle! Jokes aside, this was primarily-BFH fueled schlock cause Chaewon looked good in that one Eve, Psyche, and the Bluebeard's Wife stage. I definitely contemplated using Yunjin as the lead—and still am, definitely gonna add her eventually—cause she stole the show in that MV with her thick body in those fishnets. Holy fuck. I need pics of those. Anyway, this is merely the calm before the storm for the next fic. I don't usually hype up the follow-up like this, but yeah, it's gonna be a big one. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #le sserafim #chaewon #kim chaewon

978 notes · View notes