#Always doing the most on stage in front of an audience

[sapphicscholar]

Hacks Episode 4.05 Thoughts

Okay sorry for the deluge of posting tonight, but I wanted to be all caught up so that I can just go episode by episode moving forward! So on to yesterday’s episode! Everything under the cut to hide spoilers! (Also this got loooong! Turns out I have a lot of thoughts!)

As with last episode, I found this episode better on rewatch (esp. on rewatch going straight through from ep. 1 to 5), though it’s still not my fave. But I do find this to be true of a lot of post-s1 Hacks where the middle episodes, which often feel comparatively weaker on first view (bc that’s almost always when we’re viewing them in isolation as stand-alone episodes), end up standing up better on a season-long rewatch because they’re not always made with the pacing, stakes, and/or plot and character development that feel appropriate to a single episode, but instead with an eye to the season-long narrative. And I don’t think Hacks is alone in this! It’s symptomatic of a lot of modern TV shows, even the ones that get released on a weekly basis instead of in a single, bingeable go. Anyway, onward to the specifics!

On my first watch, this felt like we were stepping back from where we left off at the end of the last episode in ways that didn’t exactly feel right. The hospital scene, while not a fix-all bandaid, felt like an important crack in the armor, a move toward a truce and eventual reconciliation. And by the end of this episode, we feel wrenched so much further back (more on that later). But on second watch, knowing where the episode was heading and therefore not perhaps having my post-ep reactions focused on the end as the most recent thing in my head and therefore the most important, I was able to better see the ways that their interactions in the earlier moments of the episode are a little more cordial (not friendly! But less overtly hostile) than they have been. And the ways the data would have thrown Deborah for a loop do feel realistic and true to who she is, especially the version of her that knows damn well they “need a hit.”

But now that knowledge is also where the episode loses me. Because here’s the thing: this is (at least per the end of season 3) the dream for Deborah and Ava alike. No matter what Ava’s suddenly saying or feeling, in the very recent past, JPL had her telling the woman doing her headshots that this was her dream job. And we know damn well Deborah has been fighting for this her whole career. Now, don’t get me wrong! It may be that the dream is crumbling in live time, that the fantasy is revealing itself to be hollow. But it’s still a once-in-a-lifetime kind of opportunity, and I simply do not believe that they’d be this unprofessional and this willing to risk it all at this stage, especially post episode 4.2. This isn’t to say I think they’d be roses and butterflies and rainbows—absolutely fucking not—but screaming at each other in front of a live studio audience? Deborah calling another woman a conniving bitch essentially on camera? And all this after she’d been so quick to realize they were being surveilled at Winnie’s? I’m just not buying it, man. Deborah’s not good with hecklers, no. But she knows how to perform even under duress. Think about the hug on camera. Think about her letting them smear that soot on her face and fuck up her hair in the pizza parlor. For better or worse, she knows how to push it down when the camera’s rolling, and that was just a fucking pizza shop opening; this is Late Night on a top network at the do-or-die moment with her own name, career, and future on the line.

The content of their dispute…sure? It feels like we could be getting a little more incisive about Deborah’s relationship to womanhood, feminism, and politics at this point, rather than retracing old ground about Panera people vs. intellectual no punchline jokes (which we *literally* return to with the reliance on the implicit punchline of a photo of Sweden), but imo the show doesn’t actually want to go there. Which is fine, but it’s just an interesting thing how the show continuously dances around the question of Deborah’s relationship to other women, but always stops just short of true critique by side-stepping the consequences. Like in 1.69 Million we get this question of ladder pulling that gets resolved by a one-off stunt. In the cruise episode Deborah announces she doesn’t hate lesbians specifically; she hates women, and don’t we all, she asks. But we breeze on by it with no narrative impact. We get Deborah making it part of her new act (how many women do you actually have to care about to be a feminist?), which gets played as a joke in such a way that it insulates her from immediate pushback. The college student arc gets played through quickly without our ever having to return to it. We have Deborah disavowing her womanhood in the opening press event, and now we’ve got women who (shocker!) don’t like her! And I get the jokes of “well did they ask lesbians??” but I think we can adore her the way we do only because she’s a character, not a real person, and the show’s polls exist in-universe where you know what? Deborah Vance does have a women problem. Now, I don’t need (and I really so, so don’t want!) the show to go didactic fiction on me. I’m not looking for Hannah Gadsby here! But I do think they had the door propped open for this to be a clash that takes Ava and Deborah’s differences and pushes them further, rather than falling back on well-trodden ground, this time simply paved with market demo research. Because as is, it feels like…well, we know Ava and Deborah can come to a compromise on the terrain of “funny enough to appeal to a big crowd without going for the hacky shit.” And yeah, it was for a differently scaled audience, but reaching this true impasse feels like it calls for more as narrative justification, and imo, some of this unaddressed baggage feels like a pretty easy inroad because you could reasonably believe that Ava’s been hanging on to a frustration about some of these past moments that she’s convinced herself are fine or something in the past, only to have this newest thing (Deb going “mommy makeovers” as this condescending attempt at appealing to women ages 25-40) be the spark that ignites it into a big thing—especially when she’s comparing it to the writing room she was just in (bc right now it feels like Ava’s sitting there comparing apples and oranges when she knows goddam well they’re two different fruits, so she just looks petulant af).

Okay, I’ve rambled for a looooong ass time here, so a few final quicker things:

Let Ava own her throuple! She can be thrown by Deborah’s presence, but I don’t buy that the woman who confidently told Deborah literally just days into knowing her that sometimes she needs a dick to come but the sexual experiences are deeper with women is gonna stutter and stammer her way through saying she’s a third. Especially not in the queer LA scene in the year of our lord 2025.

Also, I felt two different ways on first, then second watch of this ep re Ava’s two restaurant scene lines about the not knowing Deborah very well / telling Dev and Emily to wait for the show to get good to watch it. On first watch, they felt almost breathtakingly cruel—especially piling on the show comment after we’ve already seen the hurt on Deborah’s face after the first line lands. But on rewatch, especially, like I said, rewatch from the start, the first line in particular feels more like a protective barrier—Ava learning to put up her own walls to keep from getting hurt. She held out her heart for Deborah at the end of season 3, crying and pleading with Deborah to treat her better than the world (which they both know is cruel), only to have Deborah tell her that she was willing to lose her. And even throughout this season, we’ve had several moments where we’ve seen Ava at least try—even when it’s meant caring about Deborah as a person, not the show (e.g., rushing backstage during the panic attack and then showing up to the hospital and staying to make sure Deborah didn’t miss the premier even when she found out Deborah didn’t ask the hospital to call her). And, largely, Ava’s been rebuffed. (Which isn’t to say we can’t feel for Deborah, too! But simply to suggest that there’s a point at which you have to put on armor if you want to survive—a lesson Deborah knows far better than Ava.)

Also, Stacey’s final snap was well deserved lmao

Of course Dance Mom is dancing to Katy Perry’s heinous AI album ripppp

And Dance Mom, much like Deborah’s dancing, does feel very, very daytime, big Ellen energy (right down to berating the staff!). But I think it’ll be really fucking hard for Deborah to move on from the high of the crowd’s enthusiastic energy and response. Which is gonna drive Ava up a fucking wall. Speaking of…that final expression from Ava? I wish we had known what exactly Deborah was scrapping for Dance Mom because it feels like, if it were something Ava wrote and felt good about (vs more of the vaguely hacky pandering shit), that response would have felt a little more justified? As is, it feels like Ava’s hitting a breaking point that we don’t 100% buy. Because I’m sorry, but they did need a victory after the audience witnessed that screaming match and faceplant! You need a strong (and, more importantly, distracting) finishing act to come back from that, and jokes about Sweden just aren’t gonna cut it!

[hyohaehyuk]

Both Sam and Jacob imitating their coworkers/showrunners

wretchedsapphic: a moment for the rolin impression à la sam in honor of national rolin jones day

iownthen1ght: just jacob imitating ben daniels' voice for almost 2 minutes (and sam and the rest of the cast reacting to this 😂❤). Plus Sam patting Jacob's thigh twice

Video: The 92nd Street Y, New York - 'Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire' Season 2: Cast and Creators in Conversation

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[smutoperator]

Erotic Ballet

Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader

Tags: acrobatic positions, anal, ankles over her head, ballerina, facefucking, facial, gape, (lots of) floor sex, instructor/professor, leg lifting, leg stretching, mirror sex, nude dancing, pile driver, practice room, prone bone, (lots of) splits

Word count: 5041

You have just arrived at the Source Music installations for your job as the new designated ballet instructor for one of the Le Sserafim members. As you approach the practice room, two girls greet you and show you the way. "Zuha is inside already," Chaewon says. "I think you two will have a blast, she's got amazing ballet skills," Yunjin tells you. "We'll do some shopping and come back later," they tell you.

Indeed, as you open the door, a gorgeous yet super athletic girl is right there waiting for you.

"You must be our ballet instructor. It's nice to meet you," Kazuha tells you. "It's a pleasure as well," you answer. As you look at her beautiful body, you feel like pictures don't do justice to her. From her princess face to her muscular long legs, everything about her looks amazing.

"Let's start dancing," you command to Kazuha. The beautiful Japanese girl follows, putting a classical ballet song on the speakers, and you quickly get impressed by the way she moves. She's very graceful yet extremely strong, landing her moves to perfection as she works her long legs, opening them in very wide angles and performing hard landings with extreme ease.

"Wow, I knew you were a ballerina before, but you haven't lost a step despite no longer doing ballet regularly, I should have known that already, from seeing your practices I could tell your transition to hip-hop dancing was very smooth," you tell her. "Thanks, professor, I always want to stay sharp at all the dances I learn, glad you liked it," Kazuha answered.

The more Kazuha kept dancing, the more you became enamored with her. Watching her get all sweaty, those long, toned legs working out, her beautiful face, her sexy butt, everything about her was perfect, she truly felt like a real-life doll, and you were finally ready to make some moves.

"Let's take a little break," you told Kazuha, giving her butt a little tap just as she had started doing her signature move of lifting her legs over her head. "Sure, professor, did I look good in my ballet performance?" she asked. "Definitely, but we still have to make some adjustments," you told her.

"What kind of adjustments, professor? I can do this right now" Kazuha asks you as she finishes drinking some water. "I think we should explore the full fluidity of your body, let you dance gracefully with no clothes on, have you ever tried that?" you ask her.

"P-professor, do you want me to dance completely naked? Isn't that inappropriate?" Kazuha asks you. "Most instructors would say so, but my method works, it makes ballerinas lose their inhibition and get less afraid to make their moves on stage," you tell her. "I know you've got great stage presence already, Zuha, but after this, you'll never be the same," you continue. "If you can dance in front of me without any clothes on, you can deal with any audience," you finish.

"Sure, professor," Kazuha says, taking her clothes off as she starts dancing naked, showcasing her body in full display. Your eyes go straight into her fit abs, as this is the first time you've seen them in person, you are still baffled that such a pretty face like hers got an even hotter lower body.

As you predicted, Kazuha starts her nude dancing performance much more restrained. "Lose your inhibition, forget about me, stay concentrated, and perform as if you're the only person in this room," you tell Kazuha. She tries to do as you ask, but at the same time, she's also starting to get turned on by looking at you as she dances.

Just as you told her, Kazuha finally loses her inhibition, but instead of performing to herself, she starts teasing you, pulling out some erotic moves out of her bag, starting by performing a full split on the floor while she grinds her pussy on it, coating it with a mix of sweat and her juices. She then opens and closes her legs, spreading her cheeks in your direction to gape her little pink asshole for you, finally ending the performance with her signature leg lifting with one of her fingers pointing right at her pussy.

"Professor, can we dance together?" Kazuha asks you. "Sure, let's dance, Zuha," you tell her, pouring some oil into her naked butt and rubbing it before giving her ass a little spanking. "You're gonna shine a lot with me," you tell her.

Kazuha starts softly moaning as she fully embraces her horny ballerina character. "Shall we start with some floor exercises, professor?" she asks you, pushing your body in the direction of the practice room's wooden floor, promptly teasing you with her big butt to a point you can't resist, diving between her cheeks as you start licking her folds.

"Slow down, professor, looks like you're losing your inhibition," Kazuha says as she starts feeling your tongue in her pink holes. "Get on the floor and please me for being an A+ student," she continues, as Kazuha starts spreading her legs until she does a full split, sitting right in your face with her beautiful big ass.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, fuck, professor, your tongue is so good in her pussy," Kazuha says as you waste no time eating her out. Drops of her sweat fall all over her body and soon her juices also start coating your mouth. "AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Kazuha moans louder and louder, taking advantage of being in a soundproof room while starting grinding her folds on your face.

You eat Kazuha's pussy with such intensity she ends up closing her legs a bit to deal with the heat. "I want them fully open at all times, show me you're one of the best," you tell her, Kazuha promptly obliging and getting herself back into a full split position, your tonguing in her cunt more intense than ever.

Kazuha looks down, watching your tongue emerge even with your face buried under her big ass, licking her pussy right between her clit and her trimmed bush. She keeps grinding, closing her eyes, and moaning as you tongue her meaty clit that pops out of her cunt. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Kazuha keeps moaning.

"That's right," Kazuha says as you reach to grope her little tits while eating her out. "AHHHHH," she feels a big contraction in her abs as you increase the speed of your tonguing, making her close her legs once again, grabbing her slim waist and then unzipping your pants just enough to start jerking your cock off.

Kazuha quickly gets impressed with the size of that throbbing cock, itching more and more to have a taste of it, moaning loud as you pull it back in your pants to touch her tits. "I want to suck your cock, professor, put it back out," she tells you.

"Such a hungry girl," you tell Kazuha, grinding her naked body against your clothed cock while you finger her pussy. "AHHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH," she moans loudly as you massage her clit before putting her legs down and worshipping her body. Kazuha then gets on the floor, opening her legs in a full split as she starts sucking your cock. "Ohhhh yeah," you tell her. "I knew you had a big cock," she tells you, popping it in and out of her mouth.

Kazuha spits hard and bobs her head at full speed in your big cock. "Stick your toungue out," you tell her, slapping your cock in Kazuha's mouth before she licks your balls while jerking them off. "Fuckkk," you groan, grabbing her hair as you push it deep into her throat while she grinds her pussy against the wooden floor.

You test Kazuha, pounding her face and then choking and spitting on her a little bit, before going back to the facefucking session. Much to your surprise, she takes it like a champion, even moving her head by herself. "Damn, looks like someone already taught you a lot about that," you tell her. "Yes, my unnies told me all I needed to suck that cock," Kazuha answers, pushing it harder in her mouth.

The faceufucking continues as you try your best to make Kazuha gag on your cock, but she's no slouch, slapping your thick cock all over her pretty face and bobbing her head hard, then stroking your cock fast, enjoying your tip pop in and out of your foreskin. "I love this big fucking cock," she tells you, slapping it again.

Kazuha is so sweaty and her mouth gets your cock so wet so quickly that you can no longer resist the urge of fucking her. "You want this cock in your pussy, don't you?", you say to her. "Look in the mirror, you're so beautiful," you tell her, pushing Kazuha in its direction, pinning her against the ballet barre, grinding your cock against her big ass while she moans.

You take your shirt off as Kazuha spreads her right leg in the barre. "OHHHHHH, OHHHHHH," she moans as you reach to finger her pussy as she squirts on the floor. "I always dreamed of getting fucked like that, professor," she tells you. "Then let's fulfill those dreams," you tell her, lowering your pants just enough to push your big cock up her tight pussy.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Kazuha promptly starts moaning loudly as your cock stretches her pink pussy. You don't ease up, pumping her pussy hard from the get-go as her tight walls clenching over your cock drive you crazy. "Show me you're the sexiest ballerina ever," you tell her as your right hand grabs her ass.

"FUCKKKKK, FUCKKKK, FUCKKKK, FUCKKKK," Kazuha curses as her pussy gets pounded nonstop, holding as hard as she can to the barre as your thrusts get faster each time. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she screams as your balls start clapping hard against her throbbing clit, you grabbing her waist as her body bounces.

"OH SHIT, AHHHHH," Kazuha screams again as you surprise her by hitting her big ass. Your pants get lower and lower as you pound her pussy, you now choking her neck and letting out animalesque groans while fucking the Japanese ballerina. "What a delicious pussy you've got to your professor," you tell Kazuha. "Glad you liked it," she answers.

You start massaging Kazuha's butthole as you keep taking her pussy. "AHHHH YESS, PROFESSOR, WORK YOUR MAGIC IN MY ASSHOLE, YEAH, YEAH YEAH" she begs as you drill her pussy hard. You tell Kazuha to look in the mirror as you choke her hard. "Look at how slutty you are with your professor's cock deep in your tight pussy," you tell her.

Kazuha clings hard to the barre as you push her further apart from it while drilling her pussy at full speed. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she keeps screaming as your thrusts get more and more animalesque and your hips clap against her plump asscheeks. "OH MY GOD YOU FUCK ME SO GOOD, PROFESSOR," she screams.

"Get on the floor," you tell Kazuha as you finish the first pounding session. The Japanese beauty quickly obliges, positioning herself in a crab position facing the floor while you take your clothes completely off. "Oh that's perfect," you tell her, getting on your knees and shoving your cock straight into her mouth,

You massage Kazuha's tits and kiss her beautiful abs as she bobs her head on your shaft, then slowly reaches to finger her pussy to put more pressure on her. Zuha resists, moving up and down your cock like a champion. You start fucking her face hard, slapping and sucking her tits as you use her mouth like a fleshlight. "Oh fuck," you groan as Kazuha's lips wrap all over your throbbing shaft.

Kazuha shows massive strength, barely budging as you pound her face and finger her cunt. "You like that professor's big cock, you fucking slut?" you ask her, Kazuha not answering cause her mouth is full of your cock.

After you're done, you lift Kazuha up and stick your cock back in her pussy, carrying her back into the ballet barre. "AHHHHH," she moans as you stay with your cock inside her at all moments, her legs fully spread as your thrusts push her hard against the barre. "YES, YES, YES, YES" she screams, the barre creaking as her big ass grinds against it, Kazuha clinging to the room's walls between the mirrors just not to fall.

"FUCK ME HARDER, PROFESSOR, PLEASE," Kazuha begs as you mercilessly destroy her cunt. "If you say so," you tell Kazuha, grabbing her tall body and lifting her in the air, pounding her pussy hard as you carry-fuck her and your balls clap hard against her cheeks. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH, YEAHH, YEAHH, YEAH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," Kazuha can't stop screaming as she gets drilled hard. "Such a sexy ballerina," you tell her.

You put Kazuha back on the ground but she quickly flips herself upside down. "Hold my legs and grab my ass, professor," she tells you, planting her palms on the floor while spreading her legs, putting her recently pounded pussy right in your mouth. "Eat it, professor," she tells you, as you massage her butt and lick her clit.

"So good, my pussy is so amazing, isn't it, professor?" Kazuha asks as you savor it to the fullest. She pushes her head closer to your cock, stretching hard to perform an extremely acrobatic 69 as she bobs her head on your cock. "I want more of that fucking cock inside me," she says.

"Watch this, professor," Kazuha says as she gets back up and lifts her left leg over her. "Is this your favorite position?" you ask her. "Yes, professor, put it back in my pussy," she tells you as you guide your cock back inside her. "Oh yes, so good, so deep in my tight little pussy," Kazuha says as you grab her leg and fuck her, making sure she doesn't lose her balance, but she once again proves to be strong.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK, AHHH," Kazuha screams as you attack her pussy harder, grabbing her bouncy little tits as well. "YES, YES, YES," she continues to scream, stretching her body as much as you stretch her cunt, you now choking her neck as she stands. "FUCK ME, PROFESSOR, JUST LIKE THAT, YOU'RE MAKING MY PUSSY SO FUCKING WET, DON'T FUCKING STOP, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, YESSSS" she continues to scream as she gets drilled in just one leg.

"That's incredible, you fuck me so good, professor," Kazuha says as she tries to finger her pussy, but you fuck her so hard she has to preoccupy herself more not to fall down.

You drop Zuha back to the ground, her quickly getting her knees to suck your cock. "Professor, you got such a great cock, wanna see me doing the splits on it?" Kazuha asks. "Of course," you promptly answer, dropping to the floor. as Kazuha slowly descends her pussy down your cock and starts splitting her legs more and more the deeper your cock gets inside her.

You spank Kazuha's plump butt, giving her the signal she needs to start bouncing on your cock. "Oh fuck," she moans as your cock impales her pussy. But Zuha shows her strength once again, quickly increasing the pace of her ride and giving you a perfect view of her big butt as she moves up and down that thick cock.

"OH FUCK, THAT'S SO DEEP IN ME, YOUR DICK IS SO FUCKING GODO," Kazuha moans as she keeps squatting on your cock with her legs performing a full split. Of all ballerinas you have fucked before, she seems to easily be the one that uses her flexibility the most to her advantage, as she keeps smashing your cock with seismic bounces that produce an earthquake every time her big butt hits your crotch.

"FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK YEAH," Kazuha keeps moaning, making good work of your cock. You can no longer resist the urge, pumping your cock up her pussy and grabbing her ass as you pound her hard. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, FUCKKK," Kazuha screams, matching your thrusts with even faster bounces, her cheeks making loud sounds multiple times each second.

"I want to fuck that ass," you tell Kazuha. "Of course you do, professor, no one can resist a big fat ass like mine," she answers, flaunting her backside assets while she bounces them hard on your cock.

Kazuha gets on all fours on the floor as you start eating her asshole and preparing it for your big cock. She spreads her ass, letting your tongue deeper into her pink anus. You kiss and spank her big butt, diving your cheeks between as she shakes her ass. "You really like my big butt, professor," she tells you.

"Yes, I do. But I'm not gonna fuck it in a conventional way, show me you can be an elite anal acrobat," you tell her. "I'll do what you want me to do, professor," Kazuha answers you.

You put Kazuha's right leg up and insert your cock in her tiny pink asshole. "OH YEAH, HOLY SHIT," Kazuha screams as she tries to hold herself with both hands to the floor, her asshole getting slowly stretched out by your big cock. "OH YEAH, YOU FEEL SO GOOD IN MY ASS, PROFESSOR, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," Kazuha moans.

You spank Kazuha's butt hard as you clap her cheeks louder and louder. "OH I LOVE THIS BIG COCK IN MY TINY LITTLE ASS," Kazuha screams. "FUCK, YOU STRETCH ME SO GODO, PROFESSOR, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, AHHHHH," Kazuha screams, her asshole getting relentlessly drilled, her legs in a 180-degree position, her butt getting spanked nonstop. "YES, YES, YES, STRETCH THAT FUCKING ASS," she begs.

Kazuha's tight asshole gets destroyed, her having to cling to any support on the floor to cope with the hard drilling you give deep in her butt. "OH MY GOD, YES, FUCK ME," she begs as you put her right leg back on the ground, taking advantage of her weakness and pounding her with her face down and ass up. "Suck this cock, come taste your sweaty ballerina ass," you tell her as you finish the first session, fucking her face hard as Kazuha gags all over your asshole-flavored cock.

"You want more, you slutty ballerina?" you ask Kazuha. "Yes, please, professor," she answers. You promptly give what she wants, mounting on top of Kazuha as you go back to pounding her butt. "Face down, ass up," you tell her. "FUCKKKKK," she screams as your cock finds her anal entrance once again.

"SHITTT, IT'S SO BIG IN MY ASS, FUCKKK," Kazuhs screams as you stretch her asshole wide open, her struggling with the hard pounding you give her, opening a massive gape in her butthole as her face is completely on the floor, Kazua losing her breath as you cover her mouth while on top of her. "I still have a lot of work to do in that ass," you tell her amidst more and more screams from Kazuha.

Another round of Kazuha getting your cock wet with her saliva is enough for you as you quickly insert it back in her but. "Put that head down and throw that butt in that cock," you tell her, spanking Kazuha's ass one more time as she moves up and down your cock while staying on all fours. "Good girl," you tell her, before grabbing her butt and taking control of her hot muscular body. "FUCK, YOU'RE SO BIG, PROFESSOR," she says in between more and more spanking.

"FUCK MY ASS, FUCK MY ASS, PLEASE," she keeps begging, getting exactly what she wants you pick up the speed and attack Kazuha's asshole hard, her screaming and moaning against the floor. You can't resist the urge and put your feet on her head, showing Kazuha you own her as you stomp on her face while relentlessly fucking her ass.

"Whose instructions are you going to follow, you big butt slut?" you ask Kazuha. "ONLY YOURS, PROFESSOR, YOU OWN ME, I'M YOUR BIG BUTT SLUTTY BALLERINA," she moans.

"Then show me," you tell Kazuha, putting her upside down once again and spreading her legs at a 180-degree angle. Her once tiny asshole now looks massively gaped. as you insert your cock with ease. "Can you take it on a pile driver position with your legs wide open, Zuha?" you ask her. "Yes, professor," she answers.

"OH MY GOD, YESSS," Kazuha screams as the looks from the floor at your cock stretching her butthole. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, YES FUCK ME," she begs as you show no mercy for her, pounding her ass balls deep while fingering her clit. "PROFESSOR, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME FUCKING CUM," she announces as you choke her and spank her beautiful porcelain face. Kazuha is getting number and number, her asshole getting more and more sore. "YES FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARDER" she begs, you getting more and more committed to making her unable to walk after this erotic ballet session.

"Let's do some more floor exercise," you tell Kazuha, dropping both your doeies to the floor as you dive to eat her pussy while the pushes her right leg up. After a little pussy-worshipping, you slide your cock back into her ass in a spooning position. "OH YEAH, OH, OH," Kazuha moans, increasingly losing her breath and struggling with her sore asshole.

You grab Kazuha's waist and pound her, groping her tits from behind while she tries to cope with the heat of your cock by fingering her pussy. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHHH, YESSS, YESS, YESSS," she moans. After a slow start, you quickly go back to clap her cheeks hard, making her close her eyes as your cock uses her asshole to the fullest. "HMMMM, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Zuha moans loudly.

"YOU FUCK MY ASS SO HARD, DAMN," Kazuha screams as your anal drilling seems to have no time to end, moving your body in and out of her asshole and reaching now to finger her clit. "AHHHH, AHHHH, YES, TOUCH ME RIGHT THERE, MAKE ME CUM," Kazuha begs. "You like that, you slutty ballerina?" you ask her. "YES, YES, YES," Kazuha screams.

"HOLY SHIT, YOU'VE GOT SUCH A BIG DICK," Kazuha screams as you wrap your arms around her, never stopping to pound her gaped asshole. You kiss her and choke her as you hammer her ass faster than ever. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, AHHHHH," she continues to scream.

"Wanna do the splits on that cock one more time?" you ask Kazuha. "Yes, please," she answers. Without ever pulling out of her ass, you stay on the floor, pushing Kazuha's body on top of yours. "Sit that ass on my big fat cock," you command to her.

Kazuha promptly obliges. She starts slow, only taking the tip up her butt, before slowly adjusting to your massive length, doing a full split on your dick while you massage her butt. "That's what I want, all the way in," you tell her as Kazuha rides your cock with your hands all over her ass. "You look so hot with that big cock up your booty," you tell her. "Thanks, pro…FUCK," she answers before letting out another scream.

You spank Kazuha's butt harder than ever and at a faster pace than ever, taking advantage of her ass in prime position and just within reach of your large hands. "Bounce faster," you tell her. "OH YEAHHHH," she moans, trying to follow your instructions, her big ass making loud noises against your hips.

But you aren't completely satisfied. "If you don't bounce it harder I'm gonna pound that ass myself," you tell her, thrusting your cock up Kazuha's butt. "AHHHH, FUCK, YES, YES, YES," she moans as you drill her ass hard from down low. "AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," Kazuha continues to scream, you showing no signs of slowing down, using all the strength in your body to pound her butthole.

Kazuha soon tries to respond, moving her hips faster against your cock. "Yes, baby, good girl, that's what I want," you tell her as Kazuha grinds fast on your cock, smiling as she moves her legs just enough to meet your thrusts. "PROFESSOR YOU FUCK ME SO GOOD, YOU MAKE ME SO WET."

You let Kazuha grind her ass a bit on your cock, before giving her the next command. "Keep those legs spread, I'm gonna push that sexy body right to the floor," you tell her.

"I want more, professor, I want your dick stretching my asshole hard and deep," Kazuha begs as you put your cock back in her butt in a prone bone position with her legs fully spread. "My pussy is so wet, I'm covering the floor with all my juices," she says. "Gape my asshole, I want you to stretch it hard, FUCKKKK," Kazuha keeps begging.

You enjoy the gape in Kazuha's butthole, fucking her very slowly, before finally topping her again, pushing your cock deeper in her ass. "RIGHT THERE, AHHHH," she screams, you picking up the speed. "I'M FUCKING CUMMING, AHHHH, SO GOOD" Kazuha screams as you go faster and faster up her butt, losing her breath so hard that her asshole starts winking to the rhythm of her panting.

"YOUR COCK IS SO FUCKING DEEP, I CAN FEEL IT INSIDE MY STOMACH," Kazuha screams as she gets drilled nonstop. "RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, FUCKKK, DON'T STOP," she continues to beg. "I LOVE HOW YOU FUCK MY ASSHOLE NICE AND DEEP," she says.

"Shake your ass for me," you tell Kazuha, giving her a little time to breathe before you start hitting her butt once again. "Spank me, 'cause I'm a bad girl, I'm the sluttiest ballerina you've ever instructed, professor," she says, enjoying you turning her big ass cheeks red before going back inside her ass.

"OH MY GOD STRETCH MY ASSHOLE LIKE THAT, SO GOOD, SO FUCKING GOOD, AHHHHH" she moans, squirting all over the floor. "Bounce, bounce," you tell Kazuha as she squeezes your cock between her ass cheeks, moving them sideways while you destroy her asshole. "FUCK YOU'RE COCK IS WRECKING MY ASSHOLE SO HARD, THAT'S SO GOOD, MAKE ME CUM AHHHHH," Kazuha screams as more of her juices coat the floor.

"Let's end this right where we started it," you say to Kazuha once you finish it, pushing her back in the direction of the ballet barres. Just like the first time, Kazuha puts her right leg in the barre. You tease her a bit fingering her pussy, but this time you take her in the ass.

You pound Kazuha as she faces the mirror, taking your final turn in her asshole while you choke her hard. "AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHH, OH YEAH," she screams, her ashole barely able to handle more thrusts after 40 minutes of fucking. You slide her legs between the barres, grabbing her waists and fucking her while she sits on the bottom barre. "OHHH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she keeps moaning.

You take Kazuha off the barre and tie her arms behind her back. "Look in the mirror, you should be ashamed for being such a slut," you tell her. "YES PROFESSOR, BY I'M YOUR SLUT, I'M A BALLERINA WHO LOVES TO DANCE ON THAT BIG FAT COCK," Kazuha screams as you pound her asshole, before muffling her moans against the ballet barre by putting her mouth on it.

"I wanna hear you screaming, Zuha," you tell her, pushing her body in your direction and giving her a rough pounding on a standing doggy. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," Kazuha indeed screams, now you can see her naked body in full display in the mirror. Her beautiful doll face, her perky little tits, her insane abs, her pink pussy, and her insanely long legs, all that while you use her beautiful ass like a pillow to absorb your hard thrusts into her backdoor.

"You like that dick up inside that tight asshole?" you ask her one more time, you two fully visible in the mirror now. "YES, I LOVE IT, I WANT YOUR COCK FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE," Kazuha begs. "Who owns this slutty ballerina body?" you ask her. "YOU DO, PROFESSOR, YOU FUCKING OWN ME," she answers.

"I'm gonna cum all over your fucking slutty face," you tell Kazuha. "Give me your fucking cum, please, cum in my face," Kazuha begs. You soon pull out of her ass and start stroking your cock, as Kazuha gets on her knees in anticipation of your load. And what she gets is even better than expected, as you hit her with two huge bullseye cumshots and a pair of smaller loads, covering her face with your sperm over 10 times, her licking your cock and thanking you for the erotic ballet training session.

But just as Kazuha is slapping the still throbbing tip of your cock on her tongue, the door of the practice room opens.

"Zuha we're back… OH MY GOD," Chaewon says, dropping her shopping bags to the floor as she sees Kazuha on her knees sucking your cock with her face completely drenched with cum.

"Looks like they had a lot of fun while we were away," Yunjin says. Chaewon moves in your direction, touching your cock and grabbing a little bit of your cum with her fingers, before putting it in her mouth "Delicious, I can see Zuha must have had a lot of fun," she says, noticing the big gape in her groupmate's asshole.

"How about we have some fun too?" Yunjin asks.

"Sure, bring the plugs on," Chaewon says. Kazuha can only watch, her ass still sore from so much pounding, but always shocked at how her unnies can instantly flip a switch and go full slutty in a second.

Chaewon and Yunjin get close to the ballet barres and pull their pants down, showing her beautiful big bare asses right in your face. Yunjin grabs a pair of buttplugs, inserting one in each of their assholes, before Chaewon asks you a question.

"Can you teach some ballet for us too?"

[riboism]

tear you apart

》 mob boss! p.sh x fem. ballerina! reader

》 wc: 3.3k

》 plot: a powerful mob boss becomes dangerously distracted by a captivating ballerina, leading him to abandon an important business deal because of his new obsession. Determined to regain his focus, he confronts her one night after a show, only to find himself even deeper entangled in his desire—and a conflict that could jeopardize everything.

》 content: swan lake ballet, ballerina!reader, mob boss! seonghwa, dom! seonghwa, gloved finger-fucking?? eventual smut

🎧 tear you apart- she wants revenge, sour switchblade- elita, into the woods- bragolin

It was now the final act of the show. Rothbart was defeated, his dark powers broken, and the swan maidens were free at last. In the soft glow of the stage, you and Siegfried danced together, your movements light and delicate, like drifting feathers. Each step felt weightless as you floated through the scene, surrounded by the gentle swell of the orchestra and the dreamy, pearlescent backdrop that bathed everything in a soft, otherworldly light. This was the most serene moment of the entire performance—yet your heart raced wildly in your chest.

Throughout the entire show, a sense of unease gripped you, following your every movement on stage. No matter where you turned or what role you played, you felt his eyes on you, that same piercing, unrelenting gaze that had been following you all season. 

Park Seonghwa always sat in the same seat, just a little off-center in the orchestra, ensuring he had the best view of you. Like clockwork, he was here every Saturday night, with his hair slicked back with precision, dressed in a long, black coat that skimmed the floor, and his leather-gloved hands resting motionless on his knees. His eyes followed you all over the stage, studying your every move, every tweak of your brow, his plump lips parted in fascination. His unblinking, stone-cold expression sent shivers down your spine, and yet, you couldn’t deny the intrigue it sparked in you. His observance of you, so focused and ceaseless, made you feel powerful—seen. As if, in his eyes, you were the only ballerina on that stage, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance. You almost looked forward to seeing him in the audience every night, that is, until some whisperings from the other ballerinas during dress rehearsal rattled you. 

"A mobster? Really? I thought those only existed in Scorsese movies," one ballerina laughed softly, her eyes darting nervously to the corner where he sometimes lingered after performances.

"It's true!" another whispered eagerly. "He's part of the Park crime family. Remember when they started cracking down on drug trafficking? Then they suddenly dropped all charges. I heard he paid off half the force. And now—well, I hear he’s eyeing the theater as a front for money laundering."

There was more truth to their rumors than they realized. After his father’s sudden departure, Seonghwa had inherited the mantle, becoming the head of the Park family business—a role he’d taken on with cold, unerring resolve. He was trusted to be the new, pragmatic decision-maker, one who wold keep the family business running smoothly. Everything had been going according to plan, right down to choosing an old, run-down theater on the outskirts of town as his next investment. 

It was a simple acquisition, one that should have been handled quickly. But one evening, he found himself sitting in the darkened theater, watching intently as you stepped onto the stage in your pearly white tutu, your sculpted legs covered in thick stockings, twirling on your experienced tippy toes, forcing him to wonder how you can move so gracefully while doing something that seemed so painful. 

Seonghwa never thought much of performance art; it simply wasn’t his world. His world was dark, brutal, and unforgiving. But from the first graceful movement, and the beautiful melody from the live orchestra, he was captivated with the world of the Swan Lake. You moved with such elegance and emotion that he couldn’t look away, each gesture leaving him more entranced than the last. From that night on, he returned every evening you performed, ignoring his obligations just to see you dance. He became infatuated with the beauty and artistry he hadn’t known could exist. 

The original plan was simple: aquire the theater, reshape it into something profitable, and then use the profits to conceal earnings. But now, the thought of disrupting your world was unbearable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the deal, his priorities now twisted by an enchantment he resented. 

From that very first performance, you unknowingly unraveled the careful fabric of his plans. Seonghwa found himself slipping away from his duties week after week, drawn back to that same old theater. His associates began to worry, questioning his judgement, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself it was just a curiosity or distraction—anything but the truth. You had enchanted him, woven yourself into his thoughts so deeply that he couldn’t bring himself to go through with the acquisition. Every time he saw you, he was reminded of what he stood to lose.

His associates were quick to notice his shift, whispering about his lack of judgment and uncharacteristic indecision. They urged him to reconsider, to stay grounded—but he felt himself slipping. Trouble was on the horizon; he could sense it. Part of him loathed you for the hold you had over him, for making him slack off from his responsibilities. Yet, night after night, he was drawn back, helpless against the spell you’d cast, unable to break free, and unwilling to let go.

Seonghwa knew he couldn’t keep living like this. His soul was burning hopelessly, and he needed to put out this fire fast. 

—

It was quiet now, the theater emptying as the final notes of the orchestra still seemed to hang faintly in the air. You slipped into your dressing room, exhausted yet exhilarated, the glow of the performance still warming you as you changed out of your costume. Carefully, you removed your stage makeup, wiping away the traces of the Swan Queen. The transformation always felt strange, trading feathers and grace for the ordinary routine of going home.

You packed your things slowly, placing each item into your bag with a practiced rhythm, already looking forward to the calm of your apartment. But as you reached for your coat, a prickle of unease returned. It was that lingering feeling, the sensation of being watched, that had haunted you all night.

The silence shattered with a sudden, firm knock on the door, catching you off guard. Your heart raced, and before you could even gather yourself to respond, the door creaked open, slow and deliberate. His face appeared in the dim light, and you caught your breath. It was him.

Seonghwa stepped in just enough for his figure to fill the doorway, his familiar dark coat draping around him like a shadow. His expression was unreadable, the same cold, composed look he always wore, yet his eyes held a strange intensity that made you feel hot.

Your heart pounded as he stood there, with his gaze fixed intently on you. You felt a flicker of fear—a quiet, instinctive warning. Everything about him radiated power, a kind of quiet danger that you couldn’t ignore. Yet, having him so close to you now felt exhilarating, almost like you were waiting for him to knock on your door. 

“I hope I’m not intruding,” He apologized, his sharp features now softening in your presence, hoping to disarm you. 

“I’m sorry, c-can I help you with something?”

He paced around your small dressing room, his eyes lingering on the little details—your stage makeup scattered across the vanity, the photo frames of other ballerinas lining the walls. Anxiety twisted in your stomach as you watched him, still unsure of why he was here. Then, he turned to you with an unreadable expression, extending his gloved hand. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly," he said, his voice smooth but distant, “Park Seonghwa. I’m from a private equity firm. I know the owner, Hongjoong.” Shakily, you reached out your hand, the leather of his glove feeling cold and unnatural against your skin. You suppressed a shiver as his grip lingered just a second longer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.” 

"Y/N...Congratulations on being this season’s Swan Queen," he continued, his voice low and deliberate. "You’ve done very well. You must be very pleased with yourself."

You managed a quiet thank you, though the words felt strange on your lips, your usual confidence faltering under his watchful gaze. His praise should have flattered you, but instead, it left you feeling oddly exposed, like he saw more than you intended to show.

He released your hand, but the strange, lingering sensation stayed with you, leaving you both captivated and nervous.

Feeling faint, you sat down on your vanity chair. "So, you know Hongjoong?" you asked, searching for some logic behind his sudden presence.

"I do," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight glint in his eye that betrayed him. "We’ve been discussing a potential business venture together."

The truth, however, was a little more complicated. Seonghwa had met Hongjoong only once, barely enough to call him an acquaintance. From the start, Hongjoong hadn’t seemed eager to hand over his only asset to a man of Seonghwa’s reputation, especially not when rumors swirled about his intention to repurpose the theater into something as mundane as a car wash to serve as a front for his family’s business. But Seonghwa knew how to persuade, and when he named his price, Hongjoong’s reluctance began to waver.

That first night, they’d arranged to negotiate the deal, and Seonghwa had come prepared to secure the theater with his usual finesse. But Hongjoong was running late. Growing tired from standing in the lobby all evening, Seonghwa decided to sit in an empty seat during the show only to rest his feet, but your elegant movements captivated him, and made him forget who he was and why he was there. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in a way that made the small room feel even smaller. Your breath hitched as his intense gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The air between you felt charged, the warmth of his presence mingling with the lingering cold from his leather gloves.

“But I’m not here to talk about that,” He said, towering over you, “I could actually use your help in something.” 

There was something odd yet inticing about his request. What could he, a possible mob boss, want from someone like you?

“And what might that be?” You asked, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

He was so close to you now that you could pick up the warming notes of his cologne— spices, sandalwood, and a hint of citrus. You’d seen his face a thousand times before, always shrouded in the dim lighting of the audience, his expression always stoic and muted. But now, with the light catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his plush and perfect lips just inches away from you, he was utterly captivating. You couldn’t look away. 

"You see, I have this problem," he said, pacing slowly around you, his voice steady but laced with something unspoken. The air shifted each time he moved, the chill of his absence replaced by an intoxicating warmth as he drew near again. 

"A problem?" you echoed, your voice a little breathless, trying to focus as his reflection loomed behind you in the mirror.

"Mm." He stopped directly behind you, lowering his head closer to the nape of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "It’s you," he admitted, his tone dropping into something dangerously intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

Seonghwa straightened himself, meeting your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. "You’re making it very hard for me to focus on my job," he said. His words were as smooth as they were direct. "And when a man like me gets distracted… it causes complications."

He moved again, standing to your side now, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. The closeness was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body hyper-aware of his presence.

"So," he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, "I thought perhaps you could help me resolve this little… issue of mine."

Your mind raced to comprehend the suggestion wrapped in his words. The way he looked at you left no room for misinterpretation, his meaning clear without being crass. You felt a sudden pulse between your legs, forcing you to squeeze your thighs tighter. 

"And how exactly would I… help?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa tilted his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "You’re a clever woman," he said, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder with deliberate care. "I think you already know."

—

You sat perched on your dressing table, forced to see yourself reflected in the mirror. There was a nervous flutter in your stomach as Seonghwa loomed behind you, his broad shoulders and low eyes making your breath hitch. You watched as he parted your thighs before eagerly ripping at the center seam of your stocking, revealing your glistening cunt to you both. Before you could react, he brought down his gloved hand, tapping on your pulsing clit a few times before pressing down in slow and small circles. 

The coldness of the leather made you gasp, your heartbeat spiraling in excitement. You could see your slick coating his fingers, bringing a faint shine to his black gloves. 

“Such a fat little pussy,” he breathed into your neck, the sudden warmth making a few hairs stand at your nape. He lightly slapped your cunt again, his mouth watering at your chubby, wet folds. “Didn’t think such a sweet little ballerina had something like this between her legs.” 

You couldn’t help but feel vulnerable as you took in your reflection, hardly recognizing the scantily clad woman before you. You pressed your eyes shut as he continued pulling a string of shaky, breathless moans from your lips.

“Let’s see how well this little pussy can take me, hm?” He challenged, refusing to wait for your response before inserting a leathered digit into your wet walls. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, struggling to wrap around the thickness of his glove. Seonghwa chuckled at your tightness.

“Please,” You begged, tightly holding onto his working arm. But the desperation in your voice only egged him on. He thrust in a merciless rhythm, the squelching sounds from your arousal sending blood down to his groin. 

“Please what dear? You want more?” Seonghwa grinned devilishly before stuffing in another finger, the sudden stretch sending a mix of pain and pleasure to your core. He worked you open at a brutal pace, soaking in your sweet moans as you gripped onto him tighter. 

You were slowly coming undone, your knees quivering and threatening to cave in. You felt his hand grip onto your inner thigh, holding you open as much as possible for him. It was then that you fluttered your eyes open, only to find his gaze already locked onto yours in the mirror. You felt a twist in your stomach like he’d caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing. You quickly realized that Seonghwa had been watching you in the mirror, his gaze unwavering as he took in every tear tracing your scorned red cheek, the delicate furrow of your brow, and the way your plush, pouty lips let out the softest, most beautiful whines he’d ever heard. Just as enchanting as your expressions were on stage, they were even more alluring here as he ravished you at his will. 

His fingers were so much deeper now, hitting you in all the right places, until the tension inside of you snapped and you finally let go all over his gloved fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You sputtered, watching your wetness drip down his gloves. Exhaustion suddenly took over you, forcing your head to fall against his chest. 

“I hope you don’t think we’re finished here,” He whispered, his soft, full lips feathering over your ear lobe, “There’s still a lot of things I need you to do.”

—

You were sprawled out over the table now, your top completely discarded, leaving you in just your ripped stockings. Seonghwa liked the stockings you wore on stage. They were so pearly and smooth, and he almost felt bad for ruining them this way. He leaned down and peppered a trail of kisses under your ear, down to your collarbone, lingering over your hardened peaks briefly, before continuing down to your pelvis. 

You felt a wave of heat spread over you as he kissed around the outside of your cunt before spreading your lips with his fingers, reuniting you with the coldness of the leather. He dragged his long, warm tongue over your hot slit, groaning once your essence reached his tastebuds. 

“You taste just as sweet as you look,” He praised, before wrapping his lips over your swollen clit. He sucked and pulled, swallowing every bit of juice you offered him hungrily. 

Your back arched in bliss, your hips rolling as he gleefully lapped away at your cunt. He pressed his strong hands down your inner thighs to keep you still, your puffy pussy now spread completely open for him to devour. He savored every drop of you, like a predator that spent weeks catching its prey.

Seonghwa told himself he’d finally be rid of this infatuation after tonight and return to his duties with no more distractions, but how could he now after seeing you like this? With your body so willing, the sheer afterglow hitting your face and collarbones, the uneasy rise of your chest, and those lustful, messy moans? It all enticed him even further, and he worried he’d never be able to stay away. 

Seonghwa was at his peak now, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He quickly sprang up at his feet, the sounds of his belt unbuckling making your core throb with anticipation. His angry, red tip pressed against your slit, making you gasp at how hot and hard he felt. 

Seonghwa pushed himself in slowly, inch by inch until his shaft was completely sucked in by you. He cursed at your tightness and moved his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to his girth.

“Fuck!” You cried out, curling your toes as he plunged deeper into you. He fucked you hard and rough, determined to take all his anger and frustrations out on you so that he could return to his stoic self. He hated you for throwing him off his game, and he still held onto that hope that he’d finally let go of all his pent up emotions once he finishes fucking your brains out. He just needed to get it out of his system.

You winced at his tight grasp on your hips. His pace was brutal, the sounds of your dressing table rocking against the wall overpowering your desperate screams, yet you refused to open your eyes. You didn’t want to see his face while he thrusted into you with an unspoken vendetta. His gaze alone made you feel even more hot and frazzled. 

Suddenly, you felt his hand creep to the back of your head, pulling your head up by a fistful of strands. You took in a sharp breath, the pain of your pulled hair forcing you to open your eyes at last.

“Look at how good you fucking take me,” He grunted, pushing your head down farther to help you get a good look at his cock stretching out your swollen cunt. “ ‘Take me just like a good girl.” 

Your face grew hot as you watched yourself take him in, eyes bulging at his thick cock that was decorated with pulsing veins and twitched inside of you so deliciously. So drunk off his cock, you found yourself rambling nonsense as he fucked you into oblivion. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me so good!”

You felt you both were melting into each other, your breathing growing erratic and unsteady until you finally lost your composure.

Seonghwa pulled out of you, spilling himself over your wet cunt as he sucked in a breath, making sure to milk out every last drop of his seed. You couldn’t help but watch as he spread his thick, white cum over your swollen pussy lips, your body twitching from the sensitivity. 

When you looked up at him, you found his face flushed as red as yours, his mouth slightly agape, with an expression that caught you off guard. The moody, confident alpha male who had entered your room now seemed unsteady, his composure cracked, leaving him looking utterly broken and confused.

He leaned down, his breath mingling with yours for a fleeting moment before his lips finally pressed against yours. The kiss was seamless, as though the two of you had been meant to move together in this way all along. The warmth of his touch ignited something between you, a spark that quickly became a flame, and a flame that would soon become a raging fire that could never be put out.

Seonghwa's desire for you only intensified in that moment. Whatever his plans had been before tonight, they now felt irrelevant, tangled up in the web of feelings he could no longer suppress. He didn’t know what this meant for his current predicament—how this would complicate everything—but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon. He’s marked his destiny by letting himself be engulfed in the flames.

[strialternatives]

bonus:

(if atlus won't give akechi's mom a name i'll have to Do It Myself-)

Here's part 2 of the Akechi palace au with a bunch of character concepts :jazzhands: once again having a normal one lads

check out part 1 over here

some additional mechanics and a plot outline continued under the cut

The fifth and final area is the Imperial Box, this is where the Empress and the Treasure reside.

(Acceptance, Akechi must acknowledge that his old ambitions are long dead and buried so to speak. Thus, he must move forward, whatever that looks like for him personally now that all other legal avenues for redemption have been closed to him.)

The ‘treasure’ is with the Empress, a bound Hereward disguised as Mamakechi’s cognition; Goro, the Emperor, is locked within his own palace and must leave the courtroom a free man on his own two feet. Akira an’ Co have to wake him from his restful sleep and steal him from the palace while the Empress rampages. 

Boss fight includes continuously knocking Hereward down while fleeing the palace as it collapses area by area. Robin Hood and Loki help guide the Thieves out, having finally come together to share a stage.

Phase 1: The Empress will not rise from her throne, she reflects fire, physical, bless and curse attacks with a detached, disinterest as though the battle has nothing to do with her.

Phase 2: The Empress surges up in anger, using a hail of hellfire arrows on the party that must be ridden out.

Phase 3: She full heals the party and invites them to join in the palace’s festivities.

Phase 4: Her attacks start to grow lethargic and sloppy the closer the party gets to the palace entrance.

Phase 5: All of her shields are down, she can no longer reflect attacks, her facade shatters like a mirror, revealing the final palace ruler--Hereward.

Goro has a third awakening during this pursuit--Wilhelm Tell. A Swiss folk hero representing individual freedom and rebellion, a skilled hunter and father most known for shooting an apple from his son’s head at the behest of a tyrant who ultimately seeks retribution. A hero that kept to his convictions while taking control of his future, and protecting the person most important to him. 

(AKA Goro deep down craves a decent fraternal figure and alas, his own psyche and the sea of collective human consciousness decided to provide. And no, he is NOT talking about it Joker.)

Misc Palace rules/gen details:

Loki and Robin Hood hate each other which is honestly just Goro’s internal self-loathing running wild, it’s part of why they can’t exist on the same stage.

Hereward pulls Goro into the metaverse as a defense mechanism of sorts aka before Goro did something self-destructive deep down none of them wanted post-Shido’s trial.

Akechi’s palace is hostile to every intruder aside from Akira, his rival, whom he’ll always see as a threat but respects and trusts more than anyone else. This results in every enemy but his own shadows targeting the rest of the party. They also abide by the "Oracle is off limits" rule. Fights in general are easier with a smaller team as teammates in the back lineup will also take damage.

Jazz records instead of grief seeds, every time you get one the music in the area stops.

In the audience stands there’s a cognition of Wakaba in the VIP section, the party learns about Futaba being Goro’s half-sibling. Goro sees himself in Futaba and deep down wishes he hadn’t burned all bridges on that front.

Initial Infiltration Team: Joker, Sumire, Morgana, Futaba. Haru and Makoto are at uni, Yusuke has a patron in Kyoto, Ann is overseas until a month into the palace and Ryuji is also at uni on a track scholarship until around the same time. The other thieves slowly fill in the ranks as the palace progresses, until we have a full house in the Hall of Severance.

First Layer Philosophy Puzzle Quotes: 

“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

“Genuine tragedies in the world are not conflicts between right and wrong. They are conflicts between two rights.” ― Hegel

“The law is reason, free from passion.” ― Aristotle

“The first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself; to be conquered by yourself is of all things most shameful and vile.” ― Plato

“I shall not be present at my trial.” ― Leblanc

This is basically a loose fic outline, broad strokes, etc ;; ty to everyone who left replies and comments, they're all really sweet!

(had to get this au out or the mold would get me ya see :/)

[joonjuul]

r u mine? jjk

pairing: rockstar!jk x reader

wc: 6k

warnings: fboy!jk, dom!jk, hookup/one night stand, crazy bar bathroom sex, hickies, bruising, choking, mirror play, overstimulation (f receiving), light finger (f receiving), light crying kink, reader is crazy horny smh, this is disgusting im so sorry

a/n: first fic on here whats up yall

‧.⋆｡°

the dim lighting surrounds you in a hazy room, feel the sweet stink of smoke fill your lungs as you inhale the second-hand killer. you feel your stomach stir as you relish in the scent and nostalgia of a good cigarette, silently kicking yourself for quitting two months prior.

you make your way through the crowd, bumping aimlessly against shoulders as your hand grips tighter to your drink. although this isn’t your first time here, there’s nothing like admiring the faces of strangers and passersby that you may never see again, wondering what brought them to this place.

‘sal’s’ was for the low of the low, you only came here if you were a teenage delinquent trying to escape your brutal parents, a washed up inbred fuck up who peaked in high school, or a hooker trying to make ends meet. fortunately, you’re none of those things.

sal’s was your spot, it always has and always will be. it was the only place relating to the general public that you could emotionally withstand. people left you alone here, at least for the most part.

“hey watch it.” a voice rasped in your direction as you miscalculated whether or not you could squeeze between a tighter crowd.

“sorry.” you feel your eyes locked momentarily. as long as you’d been coming to sal’s, you’d never seen a face quite like his. he surprisingly doesn’t look inbred, definitely not a delinquent teen, that only leaves one option.

you watch as he smirks down at you gently, his eyes fiery, something within them ravenous, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on for what. as you caught your breath and continued your ministrations to the front of the stage, you take a swig of your drink of choice tonight: neat whiskey. things have been tough lately. you let the bitter liquid slide effortlessly down your throat as you finish off your glass. hopefully its a quick set tonight, i’m tired of fighting groupies off at the bar just to get a simple refill.

you watched as the lights surrounding you began to dim, seemingly thickening the haze. with the screech of a microphone, the night had begun. you often found yourself here on friday nights specifically to get a feel for what kind of talent was swimming through this low-life town these days, you always had a soft spot for rock music, and sal’s was the place for up and coming artists, typically being teenage delinquents, but it’s sal’s so what do we expect?

“alright ladies and gentlemen! thank you so much for coming tonight, we got a great show for you all so hold onto your drinks and give a warm welcome to ‘the tragedies’!” your ears were already ringing and the show hadn’t even started yet. is the crowd normally this loud?

you watched as three silhouettes slowly appeared on stage, their faces not yet visible, even at a close distance. with the thumping of the small stage in front of you, you felt that familiar sensation as the music began to play, the bass vibrating through your chest all the way down to your toes.

“i’m a puppet on a string…” your heart clattered in your chest as the lights came on, a tall, curly headed boy standing before you dressed in all black. he was mesmerizing, his tattooed fingers carefully tracing each and every string of the guitar, his voice raspy as he cradled the microphone with his mouth.

as his eyes finally opened, scanning the faces of each audience member carefully, you felt your heart skip a beat as they carefully landed on yours. your chest only panging faster as you began to realize that he was the man you mistakenly ran over in the crowd only 10 minutes prior. you suddenly felt your cheeks heat at the realization, watching as that same sly grin appeared on his lips that you had seen once before.

“when she’s not right there beside me i go crazy…” his voice rang through you like a sinner in church. as anxious as you felt, you couldn’t deny the genuine talent that man had. he wasn’t like the normal performers at sal’s, and the audience could easily tell that as well, every last one of them just as intrigued as you. and it wasn’t just him, but his other bandmates too, they were all good, and not too hard on the eyes as well. you wouldn’t be surprised if they were just stopping in as a special appearance, they definitely weren’t locals that’s for sure.

-

as the set came to a close, you found yourself yearning for the feeling of your body vibrating to the music again, taking a moment to catch your breath before heading back over to the bar.

as a sal’s regular, most of the bartenders knew you, as you came in at least once a week. you found yourself mindlessly taking a seat at the bar, directly in front of the taps where you somehow always ended up.

“y/n! enjoy the set tonight?” a voice pulled you out of your daydream as you looked up to the smiling bartender over the counter.

“oh hey puck, yeah you know what i actually did. who are those guys? i’ve never seen them here before.” you questioned, watching as puck began to pour you another whiskey neat, picking you right back up where you left off.

“i heard they’re from korea, trying to spread word about their band over here because rock music isn’t as big there. very modest country, ya know?” puck hands you your drink as you immediately take a sip, feeling your throat tense just as easily as it did with the last glass.

korea huh? it was like he was being handed to you on a silver platter. a beautiful man who was talented, not a delinquent, hooker, or inbred, and the best of all, not from around here. living in a small town like rockville, everyone knew everyone, and let’s just say there hasn’t been a refresh in the dating pool in at least a decade. losing patience is an understatement.

you looked up briefly from your drink to see him approaching the bar, surprisingly taking a seat only two chairs away from you.

“whiskey neat please.” his voice even raspier than before thanks to his set only minutes earlier. you smiled to yourself at his choice of drink before taking a sip of your own, suddenly feeling inclined to look around at the lovely architecture at sal’s, even though you had been there more than my own house. anything to avoid accidentally acknowledging his presence.

“what did you think?” your mind was pulled back to reality at his familiar voice. how can he sound talented even when talking?

you looked over at him to see his eyes already halted on yours. never had you felt small under a man’s gaze until that moment.

“m-me?” you looked around briefly. “it was great. you’re really talented man.” you lifted your drink towards him before taking another sip. your hands sweating even at just a minor interaction said a lot about your love life recently. times have been tough.

“i’m glad you liked it.” he watched as puck placed a fresh glass before him, reaching out and stirring the brown liquid in the glass a few times, admiring the liquor before bringing it up to his lips and taking a swig. he looked down at it, almost as if judging the taste.

“what’s your name?” he places the glass back in front of him, turning his body to face yours completely, running a hand through his shaggy, slightly sweaty hair, and bringing his other up to his shirt pocket, before pulling out a small cardboard box of marlboro reds. my favorites.

“y/n, you?”

you watched as he brought a fresh filter up to his lips, bringing a green lighter up right after it and cupping his hands around it instinctively.

he takes a deep inhale, enjoying every last bit before slowly exhaling the smoke as the words dripped from his mouth, “jungkook. jeon jungkook.”

you looked up at him almost in awe as he lifted the cigarette in your direction, offering you a puff.

you gently reached up to his hand, your fingers brushing against his slightly as you removed the small object from between his fingers and into your mouth, feeling your lungs rejoice as you inhaled slowly.

his eyes never wavered from yours as he watched carefully. his lids heavy from whatever drugs him and his bandmates decided to take before the show.

“aren’t you something?” his voice low and husky as he brought his glass to his lips again.

“forgive me. i quit a couple months ago. i had been behaving until just now.” the smoke filling the air as the words left your mouth. your chest burnt in pleasure, a feeling you had missed deeply. you looked down, your fingers still held it like it was yesterday. you quickly shook the thoughts from your head and reached your hand back out to him, offering him to take it back.

his eyes burned holes in yours, staring at you like he hadn’t blinked once. “you keep that one, love. i think you need it more than i do.” his gaze was dark, his presence more than just intimidating. he was almost painful to be around.

but you kept the cigarette nonetheless, your desire for pleasure overtaking your desire for comfort in this moment. his gaze never faltered as you brought the filter up to your lips once more, almost choking on the smoke as you watched him move to the seat closest to you.

“you’re quiet.” he spoke, his voice gentler than earlier.

you exhaled, creating a cloud of smoke between you both. “i am?”

he nods in response, his eyes tracing your frame, the same smirk from before never leaving his lips. “most girls can’t keep their cool when they see me, but i’ll say you’re doing a pretty good job.”

you quirk your brow in response to his cockiness. “well what makes you think i know who you are?” you lean forward, tapping the end of the cigarette above the nearest ashtray, but your movements are stopped as he grabs your wrist tightly, his eyes burning holes into yours as he guides your hand towards his mouth, placing the cigarette between his lips and inhaling deeply, before leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back, letting the smoke escape his body once more.

god this man was pure sex.

“i guess you’re right, you might not know who i am now, but you’ll want to know soon enough.”

you look up at him, taking the time to examine his tattoos carefully. the way they messily scatter up to his shoulder, getting scarcer as they move down towards his hands.

“and what makes you think that?” you feel the words leave your mouth before you have a chance to think.

he chuckles, his eyes dark as he looks back up to face you, leaning forward until your lips are barely touching, his voice just over a whisper.

“trust me baby, you’re gonna want to know who i am.”

his breathing is ragged, bouncing against your face easily at the close proximity. his eyes dancing carefully between yours and your lips, grazing along every mole and bump along the way. you feel your stomach curl at the thought of closing the distance between the two of you, breathing in his air and relishing in the feeling of having his hands touching every nook and cranny your skin has to offer up to him.

“and what if i don’t” you gain your composure enough to formulate a response, but not enough to mask the desire in your voice. and it’s obvious he can tell based on the smug grin across his face.

“then i’ll make you.”

you feel a blush creep across your cheeks as his hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. the touch so simple, but coming from him, you could feel yourself melting already.

“such a pretty little thing.” his words raspy as he speaks almost out of breath, and you feel yourself getting hotter, almost overwhelmed by his presence combined with the crowdedness of the bar surrounding you. you feel your legs begin to twitch and shake, the nape of your neck getting stickier and stickier as his soft touch trails down your face and landing on your collarbone.

just breathe, don’t panic.

saying those things to you never help when you have a man like this touching you in ways you’ve never even dreamt.

“e-excuse me, i’m sorry.” you blurt, standing up abruptly and hurrying to the bathroom as fast as you can.

as much as you want to be with him, and you’d kill to let him take you home and do whatever he wants to you, you have nowhere to go.

you fumble into the bathroom, hurriedly locking the door and rushing to the sink, the skin he touched still tingles gently as you splash cool water on your face, doing anything you can to calm myself down.

you open your eyes, facing yourself in the mirror before taking a deep breath. “you can do this y/n, just have sex in his tour bus or something.” as much as being homeless has it’s perks, it definitely doesn’t help in terms of getting laid.

you feel your heart jump slightly at the sound of a gentle knock on the door.

“just a minute.”

your heart jumps again hearing the knock for a second time, your patience growing thin.

“i said just a minute.”

after the third knock you’ve completely lost it, storming to the door and turning the knob slightly.

“you know it’s very rude to-“ your heart stops as jungkook pushes the door open, his hands on your shoulders as he pushes you back into the doorway, using his foot to shut it behind him.

“hey what are you-“ you’re cut short once again at the feeling of his lips enclosing yours, his hands running up your waist and engulfing you fully into his chest. after a small protest on your end, you finally give in, allowing yourself to be completely taken over by him.

his lips never leave yours as he gently backs you into the wall, his hands gripping at any free patch of skin he can find, before landing on your hair and gripping it back harshly to pull you out of the kiss.

“think you can get away from me that easy, hmm?” his eyes dark and wide with lust as they land on your neck, kissing it roughly, hard enough to leave marks.

you feel a gasp escape your lips at his sudden ministrations on your neck, biting your lip to stop from any other noises to escape, but it’s too late. you feel him grin into the crook of your neck before bringing his head out to look at you once more, his hold on your hair tightening as he pulls back again gently.

“what, you like that hmm? you want me to be rough with you, baby?” his words are dripping with sex, lids heavy and lips swollen as he admires your flushed out state, feeling minuscule under him.

“what you don’t know how to respond when someone asks you a question?” he pulls back a little harder now, scalp burning at the sudden sensation.

“n-no i do.” you’re able to meekly respond, still surprised by the sudden intrusion.

“then answer it.” he grits through his teeth, his cocky demeanor from earlier melting into something much more rough and dominant.

“y-yes i l-like it, jungkook.” his ego swells at your words, knowing he can make a submissive, obedient mess out of you just like he did with the last 10 girls, and the last 10 before that.

“good girl, now how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” his question surprises you, but you answer nonetheless.

“i-i don’t know maybe 3 glasses of whiskey, w-why?” he examines your facial expressions closely, trying to gauge your honesty to him. but he smirks, believing you to be truthful.

“just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. now, is it okay if i touch you, baby?” his words go straight to your core as he leans in to pepper kisses on your neck, soothing the bruises that had been placed there only a couple seconds earlier.

you moan and writhe at the sensitivity, but muster a response before he can grow impatient.

“y-yes. please.” he smiles at your enthusiasm, loving how quickly you opened up to him.

“good girl. now spread.” he nudges his thigh between your knees, and you quickly oblige, allowing him to push your body further into his. you let out a gentle moan at the sensation of his thigh being pressed tightly against your core. you were uncomfortably sensitive and didn’t have the patience for teasing, considering you hadn’t been laid in several years.

jungkook smirks again at your reaction, loving how easily you respond to his touch. he gently brings his hand up and places it on the side of your neck, his other hand tightly gripping your hip to hold you tightly against the wall.

he watches closely as you fight against his hold, trying to gain friction in any way possible. he can’t help the smirk that lands on his lips.

“what’s wrong, love? feeling desperate?” his words taunt you, seeing your flushed out state knowing that his words are only driving you crazier.

“god jungkook shut the fuck up and do something already.” and at that he wastes no time in finding your lips again. his fingers wrapping tightly through your belt loops to pull you closer into him, feeling his bulge through his pants only spurs you on more. your bodies hot as you pant against each other, trying to find friction and skin to grab every which way. it’s not until his hands find the hem of your shirt that you finally feel your nervousness wash away, and your arousal begin pooling beneath you.

you pull away from the kiss briefly as he quickly pulls your shirt off and throws it onto the dirty bathroom floor behind you. the walls lined with graffiti and lights flickering dimly as you both hungrily tear at each other’s skin.

you feel a moan escape your lips as his head ducks down between your breasts, rapidly switching between each one of your boobs, messily leaving sloppy kisses on each one, and twisting your nipples as he pulls away to look at you.

“can’t wait to bend you over that fucking sink over there.” you let out a low groan at his words, his fingers beginning to unbutton your jeans quickly, fumbling with the button here and there before finally unzipping them. he smirks down at you before trailing kisses from your collarbone, down to your stomach.

“you’re gonna look so pretty bent over it begging for me to fuck you.” your gaze follows him, mouth agape slightly as you watch him slowly pull your tight jeans down over your thighs. your arousal on clear display now, making jungkook’s cock twitch in his jeans, his pants suddenly becoming too tight to bare. he lets out a low growl but continues to work your jeans off completely, tossing them behind him to fall somewhere with your shirt.

he leans before you at your feet, gently palming up either one of your thighs, admiring the small mole or freckle he meets along the way, before bringing his hands up to your underwear.

your body tenses under his touch as you feel him wrap either finger around the waistband, teasing you gently as he runs his finger along it, getting dangerously close to your core.

“see that mirror too? don’t let me catch you closing your eyes. i want you to watch while i fuck the shit out of you. see what a fucked out mess you look like when i’m done with you.” his words send shots to your core as you can no longer control the moan leaving your lips.

jungkook reaches a hand down to palm over his pants briefly at your sounds. god they made him animalistic, he’s never heard a girl sound so angelic, he already knows you’re going to take him so well.

he resumes his place on your waistband and pulls your underwear off in one swift motion, leaving them to pool by your feet as he pulls you away from the wall roughly and drags you to the sink, wrapping one arm around your waist tightly, and using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look at yourself.

“look how desperate you look already and i haven’t even started yet. what, has no one fucked you like this before?” his fingers grip your chin tightly as you cower under his hold, feeling so minuscule before shaking your head no.

you quickly register his surprised expression through the reflection in the mirror, but that look is quickly replaced by a cocky grin and a darkness in his eyes.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll take care of you.” he brings his hand from your chin down to your core, teasingly grazing against your clit.

you moan loudly, tossing your head back against his chest. but he’s quick to pull his hand away.

“look at yourself or i’ll walk out of here right fucking now and leave you a needy mess.” his sudden change of tone surprises you, but you obey, opening your eyes and watching as he continues his ministrations between your legs.

he begins rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves, watching you carefully through the mirror. although he’s surprised you’re obeying, he wants to test your limits. he swiftly moves his fingers from your clit, to prodding at your wet hole, making you moan in desperation.

“god please jungkook please.” you beg for anything at this point, anything to soothe the pain within you.

“please what baby?” his voice teasing as he continues to prod at your hole, dipping in gently only to pull back out making you writhe under his hold, squirming aggressively. his gaze through the mirror only making it harder for you to contain your moans.

he pulls his hand away quickly, bringing it to your back and pushing you down against the sink counter.

“dumb fucking bitch stop moving.” you listen as he begins to unbutton his pants, watching carefully through the mirror as his dick springs out between you. big is an understatement. you’re genuinely shocked at his size, your eyes wide and you want nothing more than to start begging for his cock, but you already know you’re on thin ice.

he uses his hand on your back to hold you down against the counter. “move and i take my fucking cock out of you, understood?” your eyes widen at his request.

“wha-“ before you can question him any further, his tip is buried deeply into your cunt, sliding into you in one swift motion.

“f-fuck jungkook.” the words escape your lips as you feel him fill you up completely, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. you moan gently, loving that he’s giving you time to adjust, until you slowly realize, he’s not moving for a reason. you feel the first tear slide down your cheek.

jungkook quickly notices and tries to gauge your response before speaking. he feels no resistance between the two of you, if anything, all he can feel is the arousal dripping down your thighs and coating his balls. he’s never seen a girl get this wet before.

“awww what’s wrong baby, talk to me.” his words are mocking but you can’t help but seek comfort in them, in him.

“y-you’re n-not moving.” you sniffle, your breathing ragged as you look at yourself in the mirror. lips pouted, neck painted in bruises, face wet with tears.

“is that what you want?” jungkook reaches a hand out to your face, watching in the mirror as he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. “you want me to move baby? you want me to fuck you?”

your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his words spurring you on even more as you nod desperately, looking at him through the mirror.

he smiles sheepishly, feeling a pang of sympathy for you, as well as the pain in the base of his cock begging for some sort of friction.

“use your words, love.” his voice is more gentle now as he strokes your back instead of holding it in place, trying to calm you down from the fucked out mess you’ve become so quickly. he’s never seen a girl get worked up this easily before.

you nod, gulping harshly before speaking, trying to ensure your voice is as stable as possible.

“jungkook, please move. i can’t take it.” your voice comes out in a beg, only making jungkook’s dick twitch more. he groans deeply, looking down at his cock buried deep inside of you, your legs shaking gently between him and the sink counter, and your fucked out state in the mirror before finally deciding to let go.

“if i see you look away from that mirror i stop, understood?” his words go straight to your core as you finally feel like you might get some sort of relief. you shake your head enthusiastically, showing him that you’re ready to take him, all of him.

barely satisfied with your response, but not having the energy to make you speak, he decides to let it go, reaching up and grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you harder than you were prepared for.

you’re embarrassed by the noises that emit from your body as he begins to fuck you mercilessly, his hand on your hair pulling you back slightly only spurring you on more.

“god you’re a noisy little thing aren’t you? you like being fucked like this?” his voice raspier than before if that’s even possible, making you whine and shake even harder. but he no longer has the patience for your unsatisfying behavior.

he quickly yanks your hair, pulling you back against his chest.

“answer me when i’m fucking talking to you.” you gulp, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure but knowing you’ll regret if you don’t follow his orders perfectly.

your voice comes out shaky and quieter than you expected as he continues to fuck into you. “y-yes, i like it fuck i like it a lot. please keep going.”

satisfied with your response he grins, letting go of your hair completely and letting you fall to the counter. his thrusts only getting rougher and more messy as he watches to ensure you’re looking at the mirror.

“good girl, look how pretty you are getting fucked like this.” he reaches his hand forward and brushes a few strands from your face, your mouth agape as he begins to brush against your g-spot with the change of angles.

you can no longer contain the noises coming out of you, screaming in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, hitting you perfectly every. single. time. “fuck kook, don’t stop, p-please keep going fuck.” you know your throat is going to be sore tomorrow with all the screaming, but you don’t care anymore. all you can think about is the way his balls slap against your legs, and the way his hands roam from your face down to your hips and back up again. the words dripping from his mouth that you can barely comprehend, only enough to know that they’re driving you insane. you want more. you need more.

jungkook groans watching as more slick begins to run down your thighs. and even with how wet you were you were still tighter than any girl he’d fucked. he was obsessed with the noises you were making too, they only made him want to fuck you harder, but you were drawing too much attention to them.

he reaches his hand up to your face, covering your mouth to quiet you down slightly. “it’s like you’re begging for someone to come in here and kick us out, baby. shut the fuck up before i make you.”

there was something about every word he uttered that pushed you closer and closer to the edge. you were writhing under his touch, trying impossibly hard to keep your eyes on the mirror as not to upset him, but you were nearing the edge and you were starting to lose control.

“kook, p-please.” you were able to mutter, just barely above a whisper through the crook of his hand.

he hears your voice come out gentle and shaky, slowing his thrusts momentarily to make sure you’re okay. “what is it baby?” he ducks his head forward and moves his hand slightly to hear you better. but all you can focus on is his thrusts slowing down.

“n-no, keep going, k-keep going please please.” you feel your eyes begin to water in desperation, and with jungkook in close proximity, he realizes immediately just what you need, picking up his pace again.

“you’re close, aren’t you sweetheart? are you gonna cream around my dick like a good little girl, huh?” he places his hands on your hips, guiding you down to fuck him harder, only pushing you closer and closer to the edge. you begin to moan loudly again, not caring if you’re disobeying him anymore. you were just so so close.

jungkook however, notices this along with your bad behavior, and stills his hips mid thrust, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to force you to look up at him in the reflection before you.

“what the fuck did i tell you?” his words sent a shiver down your spine and all the way to your core, tensing up around him, and this does not go unnoticed by jungkook.

“NO! n-no please please jungkook im sorry im sorry please don’t stop i promise i’ll listen!” and there it is, another tear sliding down your cheek gracefully before landing on the counter top below you.

jungkook’s heart flutters at the sight before him, your body so close to finishing, your hair a tangled mess, the tears running down your cheeks. he almost feels sympathetic.

he leans forward, tucking a hair behind your ear. “darling when i tell you to be quiet you need to be fucking quiet, understood?” his voice is gentle, almost mocking you, as he carefully pushes small pieces of hair out of your face. his other finger going down to your cheek to wipe the tears away carefully.

“you want to be good for me, right?” his voice is soft and devilish, making you clench around him once more, he bites his lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth.

“yes, yes i do, i want to be good for you just please… im so close.” you watch as he wipes another tear from your face, returning back to his original position to admire the state of your body once more.

he leans down, watching your pussy throb around him unknowingly, the slick that was once pooling by your folds now running down your thighs, both of your juices mixed together as one. he brings a hand up to your thigh, caressing it gently and watching it shake in response.

“you want to cum, hmm?” a touch that would typically be soothing is only creating more pain and anguish for you. you want nothing more than to shut your eyes and roll your head back, but you refrain, knowing that your obedience right now is crucial to ensuring you get what you want.

“yes i do, i really do. please. show me mercy, jungkook.” you words stir something inside of him, something that he’s been suppressing until now.

he removes his hand from your thigh and instead brings it around to the front of your throat, watching your face contort as he tightens his grip.

“be careful what you wish for.” are his final words before he’s fucking you inhumanely. he’s almost animalistic as he thrusts into you deeper than you even thought was possible. if it wasn’t for the hand around your neck you’d surely be doubled over on the sink’s counter by now, or screaming at the top of your lungs. but fortunately, his restriction on your throat is making that nearly impossible, only allowing hushed squeals to escape your mouth.

“this is what you fucking asked for baby. take it.” he growls, watching as you struggle for air.

“you’re awfully quiet now, love. can’t talk?” his teasing only brings you closer to the edge, the restriction around your throat burning in the most beautiful way as you feel your high approaching again, the knot in your stomach tightening faster than you had time to prepare for, and before you know it, you’re seeing stars.

jungkook watches as you come undone around his cock, your face perfectly contorting into a piece of art before him as you squirt and cream around his cock. the tightening of your walls almost pushing him out of you. he groans loudly at the sight before him watching as you come down from your high.

“god you’re a fucking slut. you just squirt on random dudes at the bar like a dumb whore?” his thrusts are starting to become messy as he feels his high approaching, but not fast enough to leave you an overstimulated mess.

you push his hand away from your throat, gasping for air and words as you begin to plead and beg for him to stop. “too much, t-too much.” is all you’re able to get out as he brings his hand between your thighs to rub on your clit harshly.

“can’t take it? i did warn you.” his thrusts speed up even more, watching as you squirm and writhe at the overstimulation.

“ahh, n-no, j-jungkook.” watching you cry out underneath him only pushes him over the edge too, burying deep into you as he fills you up completely, his hips stalling out when he feels the tension in his abdomen has finally released.

he removes his hand from your clit and brings it up to your mouth, ignoring your protests and forcing you to lick it clean.

“good girl. that’s a good girl.” he praises, his other hand going up to the side of your head to brush your hair down gently, trying to tame it as best as he can.

you’re completely warn out, oblivious to the mess you made of not only yourself, but of the bathroom. you forgot how often you come here, probably should’ve went outside at least.

jungkook pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your already dripping cunt. he leans down, admiring his masterpiece before retrieving some tissues and wiping you up as best as he can.

“are you okay? i apologize, i can get really into it sometimes.” his voice is gentler now, calm, almost like nothing ever happened. he barely looks affected by the encounter at all.

“im more than okay.” your voice sounds borderline distraught compared to him, wishing you could remove the embarrassment of knowing how much that interaction affected you. it’s unlike you to have hookups, especially with a man you’ve just met.

he chuckles at your response, finishing his tidying before bringing himself back up to look at you, taking your chin in his hand and carefully examining your neck to make sure there’s no bruising.

“im fine, trust me. im a big girl.” you blush under his intense gaze. you’ll definitely feel the aftermath of your interaction tomorrow, but that was for your future self to worry about.

he smiles down at you before pinching your cheek cutely. “you sure are.”

[tbaluver]

hello~! i’d like to request a scenario/hc for the l&ds men wherein they attend their toddler!daughter’s first ballet dance recital? i had this idea in my head and i thought it would be cute to see how supporitve and proud they’ll be~ thank you and have a great day ahead!!

Attending Your Daughter's Recital- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hi anonnie! this was a cute idea they would be such cute dads im literally sobbing at the idea ;-; i hope you enjoy and have a great day too! <3

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Your husband is always sleepy but the big day for your daughter's performance he was up and early. He would try to help with your daughter's hair but eventually it got tangled and messy so you had to excuse him and let you do all the work. Before you went to recital area, he would take you both to your daughter's favorite restaurant before she performs so she's full.

Your daughter would be really nervous performing but Xavier was always there to reassure her. His gentle words and encouragements helped calm any nerves and made the moment and their bond extra special. He would also bring her favorite plushie since birth to help calm her down before they went to the stage. He would also remind her that if they truly didn't want to perform then she didn't have too.

When your daughter does perform, he would have the biggest smile ever as he watches her gracefully dance across the stage. He would have his camera ready and only zoomed in on her.

After the performance, when your child runs to you both, he’ll lift them up into a warm, celebratory hug, showering them with compliments and expressing how incredibly proud he is of them for performing so bravely, despite their nerves.

Zayne:

He would cancel and move any appointments with his patients on the following day of his child's performance. Any checkups or surgeries would have to wait so he could be watch his little baby perform.

He would settle into the seat right next to you and chat while waiting for the curtains to open. When your child steps onto the stage, she'll scan the audience. When she sees you and Zayne, she'll be beaming with a smile. You and your child know how often Zayne would be busy due to his schedule but he always tries to find the time for you and your child. If he couldn't, he would always try to make up for it.

As he watches your child performs, he would be flooded with so much nostalgic memories. From the early days of ultrasound pictures to their first steps, first words, and now performing on a stage, each milestone has been a cherished memory for you both. His pride in your child is so profound that his usually stoic expression melts into a wide smile.

When the performance is over, your child would run up to you both giving you each a big hug. He would shower compliments to your daughter telling them they did so well and the outfit that you made for them is amazing. Would also have a bouquet of flowers ready for your child after the performance. When you guys get home, you both would prepare a dinner that your child's favorite to celebrate their beautiful performance.

Rafayel:

He could not be more excited to watch your little baby perform on the stage. He was the type of dad that would go to their practice and watch them perform. If he didn't get a chance to attend their practice then he would ask what new moves or what they learned at home. He would also learn the new moves with them just in case they forgot or so they don't feel embarrassed.

You and Rafayel would design their outfits and your daughter would literally have the most prettiest outfits compared to all the other girls.

You both would be front row and center so your child can see you both. He would have the biggest smile as you both watched your child dance across the stage. He would enthusiastically dance along in his seat, ready to offer a reassuring nod or subtle guidance if his child happened to forget any moves during their recital.

When the performance ended and your child ran to you both, he would scoop them up, spin them around, and shower them with kisses, all while expressing how incredibly proud he was of them. He would also take a million photos and videos before, during, and after the show.

Sylus:

The feared Onychinus leader appearing at his children's recital. He wouldn't dare to miss it! Yes he may be a leader but that can all be put aside for now because he will try to be there for his child whenever he can.

You and Sylus would be wearing matching outfits that your daughter has chosen for the both of you as a 'good luck' charm. Obviously how can he say no to you or your little baby? Whether that outfit is ridiculous or not, he'll still proudly show it off.

He would bring his daughter's uncles, Luke and Kieran to the recital. Luke, Kieran, and your daughter begged you both if they could come. They're the second biggest fans of your child, you and Sylus being the first. They both would cheer and clap the loudest to let them know that your child was the best one there.

When your child was finished performing, your child would run up to you both giving you a big hug and then her uncles a big hug. He would twirl your child around telling them how wonderful they look and how wonderful they performed before giving them a bouquet of flowers.

You all would go to your child's favorite restaurant, letting them order whatever they wanted. When you all go home you all watch the recorded videos that Sylus recorded so they can see how well they did and maybe they'll even perform an encore.

[reomikagekin]

Maybe alnst characters w/ a reader who self harms (IF THIS ISNT SOMETHING YOUD DO IM REALLY SORRY AND YOU CAN JUST IGNORE IT!!)

Ofc i can do one hehe! You didn't specify which characters so I just did all of them if you wanna ask for specific characters js my check my pinned post😌 and keep the requests coming hehe

Some tw?: self harm mention

Starlight in the Dark

You thought you were good at hiding it.

The long sleeves, the careful positioning of your wrists, the smiles you forced when the cameras were on. In a competition where every move was scrutinized, you had mastered the art of deflection. But some people are too perceptive for their own good.

Ivan

He notices first. Not because you told him—he just pays too much attention. At first, it’s subtle: he watches you a little too closely, lingers when you adjust your sleeves. Then, one night, he corners you backstage, his usual smile in place but his eyes unreadable.

"Why do you do it?" His voice is unsettlingly soft. You freeze. "It’s not fair," he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your wrist, "if you want attention, you should just ask for mine."

Ivan isn’t gentle in his approach. His obsession with you makes his concern overwhelming, suffocating. He offers solutions in the way he knows best—giving you all of him, demanding all of you in return. If he can be the reason you stop, he’ll take it.

Till

Till is different. He’s the one who doesn’t force you to talk, doesn’t pressure you to explain. When he notices the fading scars, the too-tight grip on your sleeve, his response is quiet.

"It must hurt a lot," he says one evening, hesitant but genuine.

You expect pity, but there’s none. Just understanding. He won’t pry, won’t push, but he stays. His presence alone is comforting—like a steady heartbeat in the chaos of the competition.

Mizi

Mizi cries when she finds out. Not in front of you, but later, when she thinks you’re not looking. She’s too honest, too open to hide the way it breaks her heart.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Her voice wavers, and her hands tremble when she takes yours.

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to fix this. But she wants to, more than anything. From then on, she holds your hand tighter, smiles brighter, as if sheer willpower alone can replace the pain you carry.

Sua

Sua doesn’t say anything when she sees the scars. No gasps, no lectures, no pity-filled glances.

Instead, she sits beside you and starts talking about nothing—the competition, the lights, the way the audience stares at her when she’s on stage.

"It’s funny," she says idly, "how people never really see what’s right in front of them."

There’s an unspoken understanding. She won’t force you to stop, won’t tell you what you should do. But she’ll be here. Always.

Hyuna

Hyuna is heartbroken. She’s affectionate by nature, but now? Now she refuses to leave your side.

"You’re not going anywhere alone anymore, got it?" she declares, pouting.

She clings to you—grabbing your wrist (gently, always gently), throwing an arm around your shoulder, demanding your attention in the most Hyuna way possible.

"You’re my favorite person," she says with all the sincerity in the world. "And I don’t like seeing my favorite person sad."

Luka

Luka is the one who doesn’t bring it up directly.

Instead, he subtly alters his performances, choosing songs that speak to pain, to survival, to resilience. It’s deliberate, just like everything he does.

"You’re stronger than you think," he murmurs after one such performance.

His words aren’t meant to soothe—they’re a challenge. A dare. And somehow, that helps.

Dewey & Isaac

They’re softer with you after they find out. Dewey still teases, still grins, but it’s less sharp, more careful.

"You know," he says casually, tossing a snack at you, "if you need a distraction, we could always cause some chaos."

Isaac, meanwhile, doesn’t joke about it. He just stays close—offering an easy presence, a quiet sort of support that doesn’t need words.

Hyunwoo

Hyunwoo is the one who outright tells you that you deserve better.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he says, voice steady, gaze warm.

He doesn’t try to stop you—he just makes sure you know that he’s there. That he’ll always be there.

They all react differently.

Some with softness, some with intensity, some with quiet understanding. But one thing is clear:

You are not alone. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to keep going.

Hehe credits for the divider: @vastpostin

If you're currently struggling with self harm, you are not alone!! You're so strong and I believe in you. Get some help from other people so you don't feel alone.

[snail-day]

I love your yandere fics so much!! You write them so well like how imagined them to be! Can i request a yandere!gojo with celebrity reader. Gojo is a smitten fanboy (he finally found his match a beauty that can be on par or surpass his looks) who then kidnaps reader and with somno and mindblowing smut (he is intimate and makes love, very sensual — but sometimes can be cruel when reader is not cooperative), very obsessive and possesive behavior, where reader eventually falls into a stockholm syndrome when she realizes he is the only one who can lover her like that.

Ah, anon, fanboy gojo is a horrifying gojo. I couldn't fit the somno in there my bad but I did let em get frisky. Yan!Gojo x Idol! Reader TW: Yandere Behaviors (Heavy in obsession & manipulation, stalking, trapping), Non Curse AU, Noncon / Dubcon, Stockholm Syndrome, Unbalanced power dynamic, Lifesize Doll, Gojo is just a fucking creep in this one. Reader has bad ending and is going through it. MDNI A/n: There's something absolutely horrifying about just anyone with too much money. Also, this one gave me an icky feeling, like really icky to the point where I had to go play some wii sports for some serotonin . So just fair warning on that everyone.

So this would definitely take place in a non-curse AU where the Gojo family reigns supreme over an empire of companies, including your idol agency. Satoru’s obsession with you began long before his parents handed him the keys to your career as a "gift" for his 21st birthday. By then, he already had an entire shrine dedicated to you—a collage of your debut album covers, grainy videos from your first audition, and meticulously preserved cut-outs of you in your signature frilly stage outfits.

He even went as far as purchasing your stockings and, disturbingly, a vial of your sweat from an online auction. Because when it came to you, no price was too steep, no boundary too sacred.

Satoru had been such a good boy, after all. He kept his record spotless, avoided any scandals, and played the part of the dutiful heir to perfection. So, for his birthday, the Gojo family rewarded him in the grandest way possible: a private concert (in their household theatre)  featuring none other than his favorite obsession.

Lucky you.

"Why do I always end up with the creeps?" you muttered under your breath backstage, steeling yourself for what was to come. You’d been expecting a small, exclusive audience—maybe a handful of elite guests alongside the infamous Gojo Satoru. Instead, the venue was eerily empty, save for one man sitting dead center in the front row.

Of course, it was him.

Satoru lounged in his seat, his long legs spread comfortably and his unrelenting gaze fixed on the stage. Those icy blue eyes shimmered with a kind of deranged excitement.

Still, you plastered on your most radiant smile, the same one that had been drilled into you since your debut, and stepped onto the stage. "Satoru-kun!" you called sweetly, your voice dripping with feigned delight.

That simple acknowledgment sent him into a visible frenzy. He straightened immediately, his grin stretching impossibly wide, the edges almost unhinged. His hands clutched the armrests of his chair as if holding himself back from leaping onto the stage.

"Satoru-kun," you repeated, your tone syrupy enough to mask the bitterness in your throat. The way his eyes sparkled, as though you’d just handed him the universe, made your skin crawl.

Why did he have to smile like that? Why did it feel like this wasn’t just a concert, but some kind of trap?

You swallowed hard and launched into your first song, your voice steady even as your heart raced. Through it all, his gaze never wavered, and you could swear that he wasn’t just listening—he was memorizing every note, every movement, every glance in his direction.

The worst part? You could feel that manic, suffocating grin even with your eyes closed.

The final note faded, and you lowered the mic with a practiced flourish, painting on a dazzling smile despite the tight knot in your stomach. Applause didn’t erupt—just a slow, deliberate clap from the lone figure seated in the otherwise empty venue. Each measured beat sent an icy shiver down your spine.

"Bravo! Amazing, as always," Satoru called, his voice laced with the kind of excitement that made your skin crawl. His bright grin stretched wider, his icy blue eyes fixed on you like a predator watching its prize.

Suppressing the urge to grimace, you clasped your hands in front of you and tilted your head, letting out a bubbly laugh. “Aww, Satoru-kun, you’re too sweet! You always know how to make a girl feel special!” Your voice was light, airy, laced with the charm your agency had drilled into you since day one.

His grin widened, if that was even possible, and he leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his palm. “Only because you are special, [Y/N]-chan.”

You swallowed back the bile creeping up your throat and gave a coy wave, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed the show!”

The second you turned and stepped offstage, the smile dropped from your face like a mask sliding off. Your jaw clenched as you made your way backstage, your mind racing. What is wrong with this guy?

Inside the dressing room, you immediately set to work peeling off your stage outfit and shoving your things into your bag. The faint hum of the mirror bulbs was the only sound as you yanked off your heels, wincing at the ache in your feet. “Just a few more minutes,” you muttered to yourself, your tone dark and venomous, “and I’m out of here.”

A sharp knock at the door shattered the momentary quiet. Your heart sank. “Just a minute!” you chirped, forcing the syrupy sweetness back into your voice. But your hands trembled as you zipped up your bag. He wouldn’t come backstage, would he?

The door creaked open without waiting for a response, and your worst fears were realized.

Satoru stepped in as though he owned the place—which, you supposed, he technically did—and shut the door behind him with a soft click. The sound of the lock sliding into place sent a chill racing down your spine.

You plastered on another sunny smile, turning to face him. “Satoru-kun! What a surprise! Did you come to say goodbye?” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, chipper and fake as it could get, but he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, it only made his smile softer, more adoring.

“Goodbye?” he repeated, tilting his head as if the very idea was foreign to him. “Oh, no, [Y/N]-chan. The night’s just getting started. I thought we could spend some time together. Just the two of us.”

You laughed, the sound forced and overly bright. “Oh, Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! I’m sure you’re busy, though, and I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

He interrupted by stepping closer, and you instinctively took a step back, your spine hitting the edge of the dressing table. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous now, something far too intense.

“I made sure I wouldn’t be busy,” he said softly, his voice unnervingly calm. “This is a special night, after all.”

Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag, but your bubbly mask stayed firmly in place. “You’re so thoughtful, Satoru-kun! But really, I’m just so exhausted from performing—I don’t want to ruin your night by being a boring old workaholic!”

His smile faltered, just for a second. The glint in his eyes shifted to something colder.

“Ruining my night?” he echoed, his voice dropping a pitch. He stepped even closer, his long fingers brushing against the edge of your bag. “Oh, [Y/N]-chan, you could never ruin anything for me. You’re perfect. That’s why I waited so long for this.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. Still, you kept the mask on, even as your pulse thundered in your ears. “Satoru-kun, you’re such a charmer!” you said with a giggle, though the sound nearly cracked under the weight of your fear. “But really, I—”

“Enough.” His voice was soft but firm, and it froze you in place. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharper. His hands found your hips, firm but not painful—yet. “You don’t have to pretend with me, [Y/N]-chan. I know what you really need. What you deserve.”

For a split second, the mask cracked. Your smile faltered, your eyes betraying the panic clawing at your chest. But you quickly forced it back into place, stretching your lips into something resembling a cheerful grin. This wasn’t just any creep—this was the owner of your agency. The man who could ruin your career with a single word. Rejecting him wasn’t an option.

“Oh, Satoru-kun!” you said with a bright laugh that sounded hollow even to your own ears. “You’re too kind, really!”

His expression softened at your attempt, though the unsettling hunger in his eyes never wavered. “I want to show you something,” he murmured, his voice low and syrupy as he stepped closer.

Before you could react, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The sharp scent of his cologne—overly expensive and cloyingly strong—invaded your senses, making your head spin. You froze as you heard him inhale deeply, the sound sending an involuntary shudder down your spine.

“That’s it,” he sighed, as if your discomfort was the most intoxicating thing in the world.

You swallowed hard, suppressing the wave of revulsion rising in your chest. “Y-Yeah, sure. Anything you want,” you said, forcing another fake giggle. The bile was starting to creep up your throat, but you choked it back.

Satoru straightened, beaming like you’d just granted him his deepest wish. Without another word, he grabbed your hand and tugged you along, his grip firm but not painful. His long strides made it hard to keep up, and you stumbled slightly as he led you down a long, opulent hallway.

“This way,” he said brightly, his excitement bubbling over as he opened a door at the end of the hall. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to show you this.”

The room you stepped into wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a shrine.

Your face froze in a practiced smile, but your stomach churned violently. Every inch of the walls was covered with photos of you, from professional headshots to candid moments you didn’t even know had been captured. A glass case in the corner held memorabilia from your career: props from music videos, outfits you’d worn onstage, and even a pair of shoes you’d discarded years ago. The bed, an enormous thing with crisp white sheets, was adorned with pillows printed with your image.

And in the center of it all, on a pedestal near the window, was a life-sized figure. You.

Your knees nearly buckled at the sight. It was a doll replica, eerily accurate down to the smallest details. The same smile you forced onstage, the same sparkle in your eyes. But the longer you stared, the more disturbing it became.

“Oh, this isn’t even the best part!” Satoru chirped, oblivious—or perhaps delighting in—your horror. He dropped your hand and strode over to the pedestal, gesturing at the figure like a proud artist showing off their masterpiece. “It’s perfect, don’t you think? Just like the real thing.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you clutched your bag to your chest. “I-I don’t even know what to say, Satoru-kun,” you managed, your voice strained despite your best efforts to sound enthusiastic.

His gaze snapped to you, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. “Say you love it,” he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

“I love it,” you echoed immediately, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you might vomit right there on the pristine floor.

Satoru’s grin returned, softening into something almost tender. “I knew you would,” he said, stepping closer until he was mere inches away. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch that made your skin crawl. “It’s because it’s all for you, [Y/N]-chan. All of it. Everything I do is for you.”

Your smile wavered as you nodded, the muscles in your face aching from the effort to keep it in place. Inside, you screamed.

He began to ramble, his voice drifting into an almost giddy monologue as he circled the room. “The doll is great, don’t get me wrong,” he said, gesturing at the figure with a flourish. “But it’s not you. It doesn’t feel like you.” His words trailed off into something quieter, almost wistful. “At least… not yet.”

You didn’t want to know what he meant by that, and you weren’t about to ask. Instead, you kept your fake smile plastered on and nodded along, praying he’d lose interest and let you leave.

“But…” He stopped mid-sentence, turning to face you with that same soft, disarming smile that would’ve melted hearts if it weren’t attached to someone so terrifying. He stepped closer, and you instinctively backed up, only to find the edge of the bed pressing into the backs of your knees.

“You can be the real thing for me, right?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if this were some innocent joke between friends. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, deceptively gentle as he guided you to sit down.

“Satoru-kun…” you began, your voice high and airy with forced politeness. “I-I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Oh, come on.” He crouched down to your level, his face just inches from yours now. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, [Y/N]-chan. I mean… heh…” His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating, but the threat behind it was crystal clear. “Imagine if the media found out we did something together? Your career would be over, wouldn’t it?”

Your blood ran cold. The bile that had been simmering in your throat threatened to rise, but you swallowed it down, forcing another laugh. “Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! You know I’d never want to disappoint you, but—”

“You wouldn’t disappoint me.” His interruption was immediate, his voice firm but still unnervingly calm. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was eager to solve. “You’d make me the happiest man in the world, [Y/N]-chan. That’s all I want.”

The weight of his hands on your shoulders grew heavier, and for the first time, the mask you wore faltered completely. You could feel the edges of your resolve cracking as panic clawed at your chest.

“I—I think I should go,” you stammered, your voice trembling now. “It’s been such a long night, and I’m so tired—”

“Shhh.” His finger pressed lightly against your lips, silencing you. “No need to rush. You’re home now. With me.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating, as he gently pushed you back onto the bed.

You felt caged, trapped beneath him as he leaned down and kissed you with a fervent passion that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that sent heat spiraling through your body, surprising you with how skilled he was. How is he this good? you wondered, a flicker of reluctant curiosity slipping into your thoughts. For someone with a room like this, you didn’t expect him to know his way around intimacy so well.

When his kisses trailed down your neck, you couldn’t suppress the small sounds that escaped your lips—tiny, breathy moans that only encouraged him. You hated how natural it felt, how easy it was to let yourself melt just a little under his touch.

His hands moved with practiced ease, unbuttoning your soft frilly blouse and sliding it down your arms. The fabric fell away without ceremony, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. He unhooked your bra without even looking, his attention fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the universe.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “So beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real.” His voice was thick with awe, the kind of adoration that would have been flattering in another context. Here, it only added to the strange, heady mix of fear and something else stirring in your chest.

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your mind a blur of conflicting emotions. Part of you screamed to push him away, to escape this madness before it consumed you. But another part—a quieter, insidious part—was starting to crave the way he made you feel. The way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When he pulled out a condom, your breath hitched. He held it up with a playful smirk, his icy blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Can’t have my favorite girl off the stage because of a baby,” he teased, the words delivered so casually it made your head spin.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your body caught between tension and reluctant desire. “S-Satoru-kun…” you murmured, your voice softer now, less forced. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say—if you were trying to stop him or if you were giving in.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, [Y/N]-chan. I’ll take care of everything. Just trust me.”

And for some reason, at that moment, you did.

His actions surprised you. For all the unsettling obsession and the manic energy that seemed to define him, he was unexpectedly gentle. Every hitch of your breath, every flinch, had him pausing immediately, his hands soothing against your skin. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your jawline, as if trying to reassure you, as if trying to prove that this was about more than just possession.

Each movement was careful, each thrust deliberate, his pace slow and measured, as though he was determined not to hurt you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice how his body seemed to move in perfect rhythm with yours, how his touch sent shivers coursing down your spine—not from fear, but from how good it felt. It felt almost too wrong for it to feel this good. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “So much better than I ever imagined. So much better than… than her.”

You knew exactly what he meant by her—that unsettling doll that resembled you sitting in the room. But there was no malice in his tone, no frustration, only unbridled awe. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a breathless babble. “So warm, so soft… so real.”

His hands caressed your sides, trailing down to grip your hips with a reverence that made your chest tighten. “You don’t understand, [Y/N]-chan. I’ve waited for this. For you. I’ve dreamed of having you here, like this, for so long.” His lips found yours again, and this time, you kissed him back. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of obligation—or perhaps something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to confront.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. His hips ground against yours with a practiced ease that sent shivers through your body, small, involuntary moans slipping from your lips. You weren’t even sure anymore if they were fake.

His icy blue eyes softened, a vulnerability shining through that you hadn’t expected, a strange mix of desperation and adoration. “So happy you’re finally here with me. You belong here. With me.”

The words sent a wave of unease crashing over you, yet his touch—so deliberate, so intimate—made it harder to hold on to that feeling. His pace quickened, his rhythm building into something that pulled soft cries from your throat, cries you weren’t sure belonged to the person you thought you were.

And then it was over, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. You stared blankly at the ceiling, the tension in your body refusing to dissipate even as the room fell silent.

Silently thankful for that condom.

Satoru, however, seemed perfectly at ease. He snuggled into you with a satisfied sigh, his face pressed against your chest, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

His white hair tickled your skin, and without thinking, your fingers found their way into it, absently threading through the soft strands. The motion felt automatic, like muscle memory from a life you weren’t supposed to be living. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, questions you didn’t have answers to. Yet, as he murmured something incoherent against your skin, his voice content and heavy with sleep, you found yourself continuing the motion, stroking his hair in a way that felt far too natural.

Because even if it’s love from some creep, maybe that’s the kind of love you crave.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, an unwelcome truth that made your stomach twist. You’d never had someone hold you like this, never had someone look at you the way he did—as if you were the entire world, as if you were the answer to every question he’d ever asked. It was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet…

It was something.

Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment, hovering as if they’d been burned by the thought. But then his arms tightened around you, his face nuzzling deeper into your chest, and a soft, contented sigh escaped his lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Maybe you didn’t deserve something better. Maybe this was all there was.

So, you let him hold you. You let your fingers tangle in his hair again, let yourself relax just enough to make it through the moment. Because even if it was wrong, even if it wasn’t the love you’d dreamed of, at least it was real. At least it was something.

[gothwizardmagic]

god ok also gotta say as a choreographer, whoever did the superbowl choreo was a fucking GENIUS like. it manages to be so effective without ever being flashy or complicated & like. flashy & complicated are great but to do the basics this effectively is PHENOMENAL. the repeated motifs are so striking and so strong and so CLEAR in their meaning its PAINFULLY effective - the contrast of more relaxed dancers just vibin and having a good time at the beginning & end, when its just people being themselves vs. "what america wants" - disquieting, emotionless, rigid lines of soldiers throwing salutes while kendrick & sza are singing on stage in the middle, keeping the people entertained & distracted as the goose-stepping dancers circle like sharks

and thats not to even mention the SCALE - working with such crisp colour lines in such an ENORMOUS group is staggering to even fathom like. making sure all the reds are in the right place at the right time & you dont have someone who was a blue in one section but accidentally wound up in the white group somewhere in the shuffle....... the formations are UNBELIEVABLY complex & span such an enormous space, its mind blowing to think about. over a hundred dancers. over a HUNDRED people to keep track of at all times to make sure they're getting from one place to another in the right way at the right times in the right formations. over a HUNDRED.

the dancers executed FLAWLESSLY too - taking big steps and remaining PERFECTLY in line is incredibly hard & they made it look effortless. the amount of split-second transitions to nail and vibe-shifts to hit.... oh my god. also shot to the camerapeople who were working their asses off on those transitions just as much as kendrick & the dancers were

also thinking of scale like... arena choreography and stage/film choreography are VERY different things. on a stage or in a music video etc. you have ONE front. at most on a big stage the audience might wrap slightly around the sides but generally speaking, you're choreographing for the people or camera in front of you, and they're gonna have a pretty good view of your face the whole time. arenas are MASSIVE, and there are people on ALL SIDES. you can't pick A Front, you have to be entertaining people all around you simultaneously, which means completely rethinking how things are structured. you also can't rely on detail nearly as much, because the audience is Really far away. even if there are screens, you want to make sure that there's something to look at on the stage itself, so the audience doesn't feel like they're just watching a music video. it's still a live show & you want it to feel like one

so theres a balance to strike between giving the individual artist focus & acknowledging that they literally... can't face every direction at once. even if kendrick is facing away, there are always dancers doing something that'll be visually striking at a distance for the audience to enjoy. but at the same time because there ARE cameras, it also has to work for video & HAVE those detailed up-close elements, so the footage doesn't just look like a guy bopping around with people walking past him for the whole time. the most effective example i can think of is in peekaboo - the groups of white-clothed dancers in the X is visually strong from a distance - even if you can't see exactly what's going on, it's an interesting visual, whereas up close you have the strong music video feel of kendrick popping up out of nowhere; of all these different up close groups of dancers giving their full performance directly to one front while that front is rotating from one group to another, as opposed to the multiple surrounding fronts on the main stage. it transitions from an arena show to a music video (and then back when he walks out onto the main stage with that trail of dancers so the visual is most effective from above rather than up close) SO EFFORTLESSLY and makes absolutely brilliant use of the space

this is literally jsut stream of consciousness it could definitely all be phrased better & honestly i could keep talking for a Long time like i didnt even get in depth abt the use of colour in the costuming & the way every costume is slightly unique in the up close shots but when you pan out to the stadium they become lines of clones like. god i could go on!!!! i coudl go on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its a masterpiece choreographically fr its elegant its communicative its mindbogglingly complex ive watched it five times now trying to absorb as much as i can

[followingthebutterflies7]

Better Chug That Mountain Dew

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer flies to New York to see your Broadway debut as Veronica in Heathers. He thinks he’s prepared, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive content, strong language.

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

Spencer had always supported you. He had been with you long before your name started showing up on cast lists with lead roles beside it.

He was with you when you were still doing side characters and bit parts, juggling Smosh shoots and auditions and late-night table reads. He’d been there when you flubbed your lines during a cold read, when your callback got canceled last minute, when you cried on his couch because you thought maybe you just weren’t cut out for this.

And he had celebrated with you when you landed your first commercial gig, sat with you when you nervously paced the green room waiting for an off-Broadway callback. Always in your corner. Always proud.

And now here you were.

Veronica Sawyer. In a full Broadway production of Heathers. A proper stage. A real audience. You had made it.

He was the first person you called when you landed the role. And the first to scream. He had gotten you flowers, a handwritten card full of awful inside jokes, two Mountain Dew Kickstarts to celebrate together, and one line at the end that said: “You’re gonna blow the roof off, V.”

You told him about everything. About moving to New York, the panic of signing a lease, the chaos of rehearsals. Every phone call was a play-by-play: the set design, the costumes, how your choreographer nearly cried during the first full run-through.

You sent him shaky videos from tech rehearsal, FaceTimed him in full costume, left voice memos rambling about how terrifying and beautiful it all was.

He listened to every one. Saved most of them.

And when you finally said, “Opening night’s in two weeks. Come if you can,” he didn’t hesitate.

He bought the ticket the same day.

Now he was here to see opening night.

He’d been proud. So proud.

But he’d also been warned.

By you. By Courtney. By Angela. Even by Shayne, who read the libretto once and handed Spencer a sticky note with the words: “Don’t get weird during Dead Girl Walking.”

Spencer, at the time, had scoffed.

“Please. I’ve seen them flirt with demons in Smosh sketches. I can handle Heathers.”

He thought he was prepared.

Thought knowing the lyrics, the plot, and the choreography would be enough. You’d told him everything; you’d called him after every rehearsal, shared backstage gossip, sent him snippets of songs, and described scenes in painful detail, all in an effort to prepare your man.

And he said he could handle it.

He really thought he could.

Right up until opening night.You’d met him for a quick dinner and a drink before the show. You only had water, to stay hydrated, and he had a much needed Kickstart after a bumpy flight. You’d teased him about it for years. His one true vice, second only to you.

You looked radiant in that chaos of the evening; focused, lit up from the inside. The kind of glow that didn’t come from makeup or lighting. The kind of glow that only came from doing what you loved and knowing you were meant to do it.

You kissed him quickly outside the theater, laughing as you turned to leave, promising to see him after curtain.

Spencer watched you go, heart full.

And then the show started.

He slid into his seat, front row, aisle, black button-up, trying to play it cool. The Playbill in one hand. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

From the first number, he was done for.

You weren’t just performing, you were transforming. Veronica’s words, her emotions, her anger, her heartbreak, every part of her lived in you. You disappeared into the character.

He had the biggest smile on his face, until it started slipping.

He watched those two dumb jocks hit on you, watched them hover, flirt, touch. Watched you laugh. In character, yes, but Spencer’s hand gripped the edge of his seat all the same.

His smile twitched slightly in Fight For Me.

You were singing to JD, eyes soft, vulnerable. Reaching out.

Hey

Could you hold my hand?

And could you carry me through no man's land?

You grabbed JD’s hand.

Spencer flexed his hands. Smile gone.

Then came Freeze Your Brain.

JD sang to you like you were the only person in the world. Got in your space. Pressed a Slurpee to your lips. You sipped.

Spencer’s jaw tensed. Hard.

Go on and freeze your brain

Try it

He was seething. In the prettiest, most tightly wound way imaginable.

The moment the blue lighting spilled across the stage, he felt it, this low, humming sense of doom building in his chest. He knew what was coming, you had told him about this song so many times before.

The one scene Spencer had tried so hard to mentally prepare for.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

It started quiet. Innocent.

You were alone on stage.

You could feel the energy in the room change. The audience buzzed with anticipation. Spencer sat up straight, every nerve ending on fire.

You started the number with fire in your eyes. He’d never seen you so alive. So in control.

The demon queen of high school has decreed it

She says Monday, 8 a.m., I will be deleted

They'll hunt me down in study hall

Stuff and mount me on the wall

30 hours to live, how shall I spend them?

You prowled across the stage like it belonged to you. Because it did. And Spencer’s pulse kicked up in response.

I don't have to stay and die like cattle

I could change my name and ride up to Seattle

But I don't own a motorbike

Wait.

Here's an option that I like

Spend these 30 hours gettin' freaky, yeah

The lights shifted again.

There was a bed.

JD on the bed.

Spencer leaned forward in his seat without realizing.

I need it hard

I'm a dead girl walking

I'm in your yard

I'm a dead girl walking

Before they punch my clock

I'm snappin' off your window lock

Got no time to knock, I'm a dead girl walking

You crossed the stage slowly, deliberately. The choreography was sensual, full of bravado and desperation. Your voice wrapped around the lyrics with dangerous intent.

You stalked JD, your hands sliding up his arms slowly. Deliberately. Spencer’s eyes widened.

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I decided I must ride you 'til I break you

'Cause Heather says I got to go

You're my last meal on death row

Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whities

You shoved JD back onto the mattress. Climbed into his lap. JD’s hand slid to your waist.

Spencer’s blood boiled.

Then JD ripped open your blouse. You tossed it dramatically to the side, matching the beat. The crowd gasped. Spencer stopped breathing.

He knew it was acting. He knew the show. Knew this scene.

But knowing and watching were two very different things.

You looked so real. Your hands, your breath, your grin, it wasn’t timid. It wasn’t “sorry, this is for the part.” It was bold.

And then you kissed JD. Hard. Deep. Hands in his hair. Spencer’s eye twitched.

His nails dug into the Playbill in his lap.

He could feel his knee bouncing, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The lighting turned red. Hellfire.

Then, the line.

You turned slightly toward the audience. The spotlight caught your face just right.

Your voice is crystal clear, every lyric dropping like a challenge.

And in the middle of it, in that exact moment, your gaze snapped to the front row.

Right to him.

You held his eyes.

A single second. Maybe two.

And you sang it.

“Better chug that Mountain Dew.”

He stared, slack-jawed.

And when your lips curled into the faintest smirk, he nearly blacked out.

Because that line? That line was a direct hit.

That line was sacred.

He had once said in passing that the only thing he’d marry before you was a cold Kickstart at 9 a.m., and now here you were; mocking, seducing, owning him with five words.

He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until then. Not until those five words punched him in the chest.

Everyone knew he loved that stupid drink. You especially.

You turned back to JD like it was nothing.

He didn’t hear the rest of the song. He saw movement, saw you ducking down to your scene partner for another kiss, but all he could focus on was the electric buzz under his skin, and the fire in your eyes when you looked at him like that.

Someone seated next to him noticed how agitated he was and leaned over. “Are you good?”

“No,” he said, eyes still locked on you. “Not even a little.”

Because it wasn’t just the acting. It wasn’t the choreography. It was you. Performing like your life depended on it. You were electric. Unapologetic. On fire.

And the way you looked at him?

Like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Like you were daring him to do something about it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your hips moved, how your voice hit every note like a weapon, how JD’s hands had lingered for far too long.

He wanted the show to end.

He wanted the curtain to fall.

He wanted you.

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

Backstage after curtain call, you barely made it to the dressing room before your phone buzzed.

SPENCER:

Hope you’re ready to wrap this show with an encore.

At home.

No lights, no audience.

Just you and me.

You laughed, a little breathless. Warm. Buzzing from adrenaline and applause and him.

A knock.

You opened the door.

Spencer stood there, arms crossed. Eyes burning.

“Hi,” you said sweetly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

His eyes dragged down, slow. Then back up.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me.”

You blinked, still smiling. “What?”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Did I?” you asked, batting your lashes. “I was just playing the role.”

Three steps. That’s all it took.

He closed the distance, voice low and sharp.

“I don’t know if I want to marry you or strangle you.”

You blinked. “That good, huh?”

“You made eye contact with me. During that line.”

“Yep.”

“That wasn’t in the choreography.”

“I improvised.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Tonight, you’re my dead girl walking.”

You shivered.

“I meant it, by the way,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I knew exactly where you were sitting.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tear the world apart just to get you closer.

“You’re evil.”

You tilted your head, all fake innocence. “And you love it.”

His hands slid to your waist. His breath hit your jaw.

“I’m driving us home,” he murmured. “And when we get there, you’re gonna repeat every word you sang tonight.”

“Oh?”

“But this time,” he growled, “you won’t be pretending who it’s for.”

You smiled.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He didn’t wait another second.

[s1rawb3rry]

Do they know you’re with me?

Synopsis: She swore she was done with him—the late nights, the promises, the way he made her feel like everything and nothing all at once. But in the haze of flashing camera lights of her runway show and whispered secrets, Heeseung’s touch pulls her back in, just like it always does. Suddenly, she’s right where she said she’d never be again.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: smut (mdni), angst, no fluff (im sorry </3), idol!heeseung x model!reader, toxic relationships / situationship, alcohol mentions, slight exhibitionism (?), f!receiving, tights ripping, thigh riding. Please note this is fiction, it does not reflect anyone’s true personality. not proofread, i will eventually lol. Inspired by tbh-partynextdoor. 

Pairing: enhypen Heeseung x reader

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli@kireistrawberryjayla @annovaz @bambieheeseunglee @firstclassjaylee @flowerwinds @veilstqr(comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯

The runway backstage hums with frenzied energy and loud music that could be heard from the stage. It was a blur of stylists adjusting hems of the short Prada dress on me while another was on their knees fixing my black tights, makeup and hair artists perfecting their final touches, and the rhythmic pulse of the music seeping through the walls. In the midst of the familiar chaos, I stood in a line amongst the other models, my eyes focused ahead, anticipating my turn to step out. 

As soon my name was called, my heels followed and started sharply clicking behind me on the polished, glass floor. The runway stretched in front of me endlessly. The music was much louder and clearer now, the bass of it thrums beneath my feet. The lights from overhead beam down in a dazzling spotlight, it made it impossible for me to see anyone in the audience, only leaving me to see sporadic camera flashes in the crowd. The rest were observers, he was certainly an observer. 

As I figured, he was in the first row, he is the face of Prada this season after all. He has been here for the past couple of shows, some of them because he had to be there, while most of them were because I was on the runway. 

Out of habit, my eyes were drawn to him. More specifically, drawn to his hand that rested casually on another woman’s thigh. A soft, almost lazy touch, but intimate enough. Although I was passing by them quickly, I noticed how captivatingly stunning she was. But I also noticed how completely indifferent, uninterested she seemed; her attention elsewhere, not on the show or Heeseung.

His eyes, on the other hand, were burning into me with a quiet intensity. His gaze never left me. His head tilted slightly, following my every movement on stage, tracing the curve of my body with his focus. Despite the woman next to him, despite the other models, despite the crowd, he was fixated on me. I could feel it— his mind was fastened to me. 

For this night at least.

When we first met, he was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everyone knew it. He still was. Each memory I had with him was a memory in my mind that’s dipped in gold and honey. From the first show I walked and he attended, he drew me in like a moth to a flame. Yet, no matter how near I got to him, I felt like I never quite understood him. That same tugging flame would leave me burnt each time.

Each night with him was a velvet dream, his touch and lips were impossible to forget. It wasn’t love, I knew it wasn’t love, he told me it wasn't love; but it felt like it could have been, if only for a moment. 

When I would leave his bed the next morning, he would barely look at me. And if he did, he would look at me as if I’m easily forgotten. I would go back home with my heart not only aching– it would be a wildfire, burning through me, leaving nothing but scorched remnants of the night before. 

It was always a cruel cycle with him, he would pull me in, only to push me away. He would get so close, telling me that his world begins and ends with me, and for a moment, I’d believe him. But then, just as quickly, he’d turn cold, like I was nothing more than a passing shadow in his world. And yet, every time he came back, I’d fall right back into his flame, burning me when I got too close.

He always has a way of making me feel both visible and invisible all at once. Figuratively and literally.

My friends hated each time that i went back to him, i always felt the disappointment in their eyes. They would always warn me, tell me I was worth more than this endless back-and-forth. But each time I stepped back into his world, their words would turn to just echoes in my mind. They didn’t understand, they didn’t know what it felt like to be pulled into a storm you couldn’t leave. Rather, a storm you didn't want to leave. 

However, it had been a month–maybe more– where we both went silent after an explosion of words we both regretted. Usually, he would call me, text me a couple of days later after an argument to reconcile, asking me to accept his apology. But this time my phone stayed dry, for whatever reason.

I missed him in the way you miss something you know you’re better off without. But my pride was too big, not allowing me to show my yearning. However, my pride doesn’t stop me from wondering if he felt the same ache after each fight. 

~

The after party is a blur of flashing lights with the beat vibrating through the walls, a steady pulse beneath the haze of liquor and too many bodies packed into a dimly lit room. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the lingering sweetness of spilled champagne, voices melting together in a symphony of laughter and slurred words from the alcohol. The city hums beyond the glass windows, neon lights flickering in time with the music.

Amidst it all, I could feel it- that unmistakable weight of his gaze on me. I knew he was watching me from across the room, eyes flickering over the shape of my short dress, my legs that are wrapped in thin lace, how my lips pressed around the rim of my glass. I felt his inspection.

Every so often, against my better judgement, I would turn to him. Only to find him leaning back against the bar, sprawled out with that confidence, drink in hand. The same woman was beside him, perched close, speaking into his ear. He doesn’t react much, but he doesn’t move away either. It shouldn’t sting, but it does.

I turned away, drowning the heat creeping up my throat with whatever coke left in my glass. I couldn't bring myself to drink anything tonight, I was already too in my head for the night. My friends at the table were chatting, talking about something I was supposed to be listening to. Their words, however, were distant, muffled. 

"You okay?" One of my friends whispered in my ear so I could hear her clearly over all the music and chatter. She touched my arm comfortingly, concern could be read across her face.

I gave her a weak smile, “yeah, I’m gonna go get some fresh air, I will be back soon.” I whispered back in her ear. She nodded, letting me slip away from our table. My legs were pulling me to the exit door to leave that suffocating area. 

The hallway is quieter but the loud music could be faintly heard. Dimly, yellow-ish lights were above, carrying the crispness of fresher air that I was craving. Party confetti was on the floor, abandoned glasses and bottles glinted under the faint glow, half-closed doors could be seen from a far in weary silence. 

I pressed my palm against the cool wall, trying to ground myself and trying to shake off the weight of his eyes– the same one that lingered on me until I disappeared out of his vision.

Then, the heavy doors to the party groan open, with footsteps right after it. I don’t have to turn around to know they’re his, immediately setting my nerves on edge.

"Oh wow, I didn’t think you’d make it this easy to find you." he chuckled, amused.

I don’t turn to face him, willing to keep the distance for as long as possible, “go back to your date, Heeseung.”

“She’s not my date.”

My pride and frustration started burning in my chest even further, making me turn around, glaring up at him, "Does she know that? Or are you also playing her?"

His smile flattened a bit, his head tilted to the side in confusion, “wait, ‘also’? you think I’m playing you?” 

I inhaled sharply, “I can’t do this right now…” I murmured, raising my hands in defeat, ready to leave. 

“Hey hold on,” he said, catching one of my wrists, his grip firm but not tight. “Come on, speak to me, pretty…” he said, his voice low, pulling me gently towards him. He sounds sincere but amusement could be read on his face, enjoying how he tugs on my heart strings.  

The moment I'm close to him again, my body starts betraying me, craving his touch for what felt like ages now. My eyes flicker between his, I couldn’t seem to find the words I wanted to say. As if my self banter this past month meant nothing. He waited patiently for me to utter anything, looked at me with that expression- wide eyes, lips parted just slightly, he played the role of the misunderstood saint so well, it was almost infuriating. 

Our attention was pulled to the sound of shuffling and distant voices coming closer to the quiet hallway, snapping me back to reality. “Not here, Hee…” I whispered to him, my eyes darting around us in urgency. My voice low, strained as the voices from the hallway grew louder.

In a swift motion, he pulled us through one of those half opened doors and led us to a nearby dimly lit room. The door clicked shut behind us, making the world outside fading to nothing but the overwhelming heat between us. The air was thick with the tension we both carried.

He turned toward me, eyes dark with that familiar ferocity. The same one I had seen across the runway, the one that had always drawn me in no matter how hard I tried to resist. 

He stepped closer, his warmth enveloping me, the distance between us shrinking with every beat of my racing heart. His hands were tentative at first, brushing my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. Once he saw my face clearly, his frown calmed down. Seeing how I didn't move away, he cupped my face with dark eyes, his thumb gently grazing over my lips. 

As much as I wanted this, I knew I shouldn’t. So my brain started to think of excuses, “your date–” 

“Forget about her, already. She’s with another man.” he responded, almost irritated that i was disturbing our moment by bringing her up. I swallowed hard, unsure, but the pull between us was undeniable. My body betrayed me even further, aching for his closeness that I have been trying to avoid for weeks. He leaned in, his lips pressing against mine as if I had deprived him, starving him from me. There was nothing but the soft hum of our clothes and bodies drawing together.

My back was pressed against the door while his hand slipped to my waist, pulling me gently against him, and my fingers found their way into his hair, tugging him closer if that was physically possible. The space between us was filled with breathless anticipation, every touch sending a wave of heat through me.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against my lips, picking up where his thoughts were, his words low, his breath warm.

My heart twisted in my chest, immediately spotting his sweet lies he would always tell me, “you're bad at lying, you know.” I said, still close to him.

“Why would I lie to you?” he said while his lips went down to my neck. I shouldn’t be letting the intoxicating scent of his cologne pull me back to those late nights tangled in his sheets, to whisper promises neither of us kept. But he was so infatuating.

Our legs were tanged between each other. His body pressed closer to mine, his leg sliding between mine with a deliberate, slow movement. The warmth of his skin against mine made it impossible to think straight. I felt the tension coil in my stomach as his thigh shifted against me, I could feel the heat of his body from my thin tights.

Before I could stop myself, my hips instinctively rolled forward, brushing against his thigh. The friction sent a shiver through me,  a surge of electric tension rushed through me. my body immediately responded to his body. I couldn’t help but grind against him, the heat building between us with every subtle movement.

He let out a low exhale, as if to ground himself from the sight in front him. The sight of me pressed against his thigh. His hand on my waist pulled me in closer, encouraging the rhythm without a word. His leg was firm and steady beneath me, a reminder of the control he held even as I was the one driving the movement now, needing more. 

Heeseung’s breath hitches, a quiet groan escaping him as I rock gently, "you’re so fucking irresistible." he sighed in my hair as I felt his hardness press against my inner thigh. The soft pressure of his thigh against me only made it harder to pull away, and I could feel my breath quickening, my body moving faster, unable to stop the ache that had begun deep within me.

As he was moving too quickly as if time was slipping away, his rings brushed too hard against the delicate fabric of my tights, and with a soft but noticeable tug, he ripped them. The sound of it is barely audible, but it’s enough to send this fuzzy feeling through my veins. 

His gaze flickers down in surprise at first before his lips curl into a half-smile, the intensity not lost on him. His hands slide higher, the rip now an accidental opening to my bare skin. My back arched toward him as a response to the contact, my eyes fluttered shut, trying to steady myself. I can not let him enjoy this more than me.

The sound of footsteps and muffled voices just outside the door made me open my eyes, my pulse spiked. Panic creeping in as I realize how close we were to being caught. If someone found either me or him like this, we would really get into trouble. "Hee, I can't—" I whispered, despite my hip’s non-stop grinding. But before the words can even fully leave my lips, his hand slides lower, his fingers brushing dangerously close to where I ache, his thumb teasing my clit. 

His voice was low and commanding, vibrating against my skin. "My girl always can." He whispers it like a promise. It was clear that he was determined to make me cum, right then and there. And I hated that it was working, I hated how fast i was able to forget everything so quickly.

The palm of his hand kneaded the flesh of my hips; it wasn't forceful, but just enough to remind me how easily he could have me. “Fuck you.” I fired at him, being too dazed and too fucked out to say anything else. My focus also became my orgasm as my grinding became rougher.

“Sweet girl…” he starts, chuckling at my comment, but it was a deep, dark laugh. One his thumb finding itself between my lips, opening your mouth ever so slightly. My tongue naturally clicks towards it, I can faintly taste myself. His eyes darted around my face, as if he was trying to burn his view- of how messy my hair was, how my gloss and mascara were smudged now– in his memory forever, “youre the one who’s fucking yourself on me.”

The tension that was building in me unravelled before me as I gripped his arm tighter. A soft gasp left me as my muscles tighten and release in a perfect rhythm. “That’s it…” he coos, holding up my face as I was riding out my mind’s blur of a bliss, wanting to see every expression of pleasure on my face.

I rested my forehead on his chest, trying to catch my breath after my high. His arms never left my waist, tracing soft patterns on my exposed thigh. As my vision became clearer, I noticed the unmistakable tension in his stance. His body was taut, his jeans hugging him. 

“Come back to my place,” he murmured against my hair, his voice thick and husky. The realisation of what I just shamelessly did suddenly made me sheepish, I just nodded as a response. 

As he reaches for the door handle behind me with his hand in mine, I stop him. My heart races when I glance down at the ripped tights, knowing it’ll be too obvious what we were doing if we leave like this, "I can't… we can't leave like this."

He huffed a laugh, my sudden shy demeanor being a sharp contrast. Before I can say another word, he sinks to his knees in front of me. He first removes my heels with a practiced ease, taking his time, savoring each moment of the closeness.

His hands slide slowly up my legs, the touch exhilarating, lingering at the edge of my skin. With his eyes locked into mine, his fingertips slip under the hem of my dress, grazing my skin as they make their way higher. The tights are too torn to save, but he doesn’t seem bothered. His hands move with purpose, gently pulling them down, his breath warm against my inner thighs.

He rolls the shredded tights into a tight bundle, slipping them into his blazer as a trophy, the gesture so casual, so effortless. As he stands, his eyes never leave mine, a dark, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "There," he murmurs, his fingers lingering on my skin, "better?"I just nod, not trusting my voice. 

The city night air outside is sharp, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch still ghosting over my skin. His hand stays in mine, a quiet possession, a reminder that no matter how much distance I try to put between us, I’ll always find my way back. Neither of us spoke as we stepped into the waiting car, the city lights flickering against the tinted windows. But in the quiet, I can feel it—his gaze, the weight of everything unspoken pressing between us.

I should let go. I should pull away. But when his fingers tighten around mine, just slightly, I realize I never wanted to.

[shuenkio]

益⁠—15 minutes I 제이

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Jay!idol X M!idol reader

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌: Accident skin contact on stage can lead to something spicier? When he beg to—

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: Smut with plot. 𝖢𝖶: Smau.

𝖭𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 | 𝖤𝗇𝗀 is not my first

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

In the blink of an eye, The end of the year appears once again. And in this K-pop industry, wherein every year they'd celebrate, filled the stage with the groups. Yet with everyone's expectations, they'll always have collaboration stages with many groups and even duos from the same group too that spark the fans with thrilled and excited to see their performance.

With the start of the group called "Enhypen", it happened to have a collaboration stage too with the members — "M/n" and "Jay" the powerful duo which everyone didn't expect to have them on stage together, just the two them, two of the most talented members and underrated.

However that's not enough to make the supporters drool in excitement, one to another since the song that both of them are going to perform was "That Boy is mine" By Ariana grande. The fandom went insanely crazy to their own mankind when they learned that no female idol in this, with only M/n and Jay — Due to how small frame M/n was, Jay get to be the masculine role on stage— you know how it is ;)

Moving on to the stage, both of the members didn't know how their popularity was that great to have such a loud screaming and cheering from the crowd even the other fans are glowing like a red flame, burst their lung out to their limit, ruining their vocal dry— it's just them rehearsal.

It was marvelous, the way M/n express the lyrics by the dance steps, letting out his inner zesty taken over, didn't get to hesitate to do justice to the song's owner— his body are like jelly and flexible, carry on elegant moves which roughly pushing Jay on the verge to lose control right in fronts of the audiences who are enraptured, jumping happily such could cause earthquakes.

The moment the final note echoed into silence, the crowd exploded. Cheers and screams reverberated through the air, deafening, as if the entire universe had collapsed into that one breathless moment. Hands raised high, voices raw with joy—everyone was in awe. They were not just applauding, they were celebrating the impossible, the breathtaking, the unforgettable. It wasn’t just a performance. It was a triumph, and the world knew it. The best duo — M/n and Jay ending their performance with the pose of the latter's one limp up on Jay's hip, as Jay support it. On the other hand, belt M/n's waist with his powerful grips.

"you're a monster M/n, you earned yourself the greatest reward"

"How come— we did great don't just credit only I"

The duo exchange a small chatting, keep it steady in the pose, while waiting for the ending fairy and the live shooting to end.

Unbeknownst to M/n and the fans, the distance between them were too close that Jay's crotch brush again M/n's lower butt cloth— yet even M/n, himself didn't realize. He was catching an act, interact with the audiences. The taller compelled the sensation, flooded through him as their skin brushed lightly... closeness between them, making him feel a warmth he couldn’t ignore, underneath his leather pants, which is grown to something they could recognize instantly but Jay manages to unfold it.

"This has been ENHYPEN M/n And Jay— Thanks you"

///

"Please, Chaewoo, please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you so fucking badly."

He sits up slightly, yanking his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. His muscular chest is revealed, lean and defined, with small, dark nipples that are already stiff with arousal.

"Please, baby," Jay begs, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm going crazy thinking about splitting your tight little ass open on my huge cock. Please please I've been holding on for the past few weeks— please"

"I want to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll be feeling me for days. Please, M/n, let me fucking wreck you. I'm so fucking desperate for it."

Jay's hands slide down to your ass, kneading and squeezing the firm globes. He pulls them apart, exposing your tight, puckered hole underneath the fabric even more.

Seeing his eagerness to want it, you nod slightly, as a sign of giving him enough permission to fuck you right here, in the guest waiting room.

"We need to be quick— 15 minutes at ease Ah-" your eyes widen in surprise as he wraps his muscles arms around your hips and pulls you into a passionate, desperate kiss. He makes a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his lips moving urgently against yours as the kiss deepens. His cock throbs and pulses between your legs, the massive, veiny shaft already leaking precum and soaking through his pants.

Jay practically tears your panties off without hesitation, in his haste to get to your ass, the flimsy fabric ripping away easily under his strength. He shoves his leather pants down just enough to free his huge, throbbing cock, and before you can blink, he's positioning the fat head at your entrance.

"Fuck, I can't wait," he growls, his voice strained with desperation.

"I need to be inside you, NOW."

With one brutal, powerful thrust, Jay slams his massive cock deep into your ass, splitting you open around his thick shaft. Yours breath began to be uneven, heaving and chasing for the right tempo—He's so big that he's halfway inside you before you even realize what's happening, your tight walls stretching obscenely to accommodate his girth.

"Oh FUCK!" Jay roars, his head thrown back, his face a mask of raw, primal ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, M/n. So fucking perfect."

He starts to move, his hips pumping furiously as he hilts himself fully inside you, with a pulsing visible on your lower belly. His heavy balls slap against your crook with each powerful thrust, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your gripping heat.

"Take it, baby," he snarls, sweat dripping down his face as he fucks into you hard and fast. Tried hard with variety fucking position to get himself, bury deeper than the bottom of the ocean that turning you into a fucking toy— moaning out with lustful pleasure.

He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he rails your ring mascule ruthlessly. The pain mingles with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, the dual sensations driving you wild. Jay's unique musk invades your senses, his scent of sweat, arousal and pure, unchecked masculinity filling the air of the small space.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last long," Jay pants harshly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending climax.

"You feel too fucking good, M/n. I'm going to pump you so fucking full of cum, baby. Gonna fill this tight butt YUCK"

He flips you over onto your hands and knees, slamming back into your abused entrance from behind with even more force. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cockhead kissing your prostate with every brutal thrust. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his fucking, the room filling with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your desperate moans.

As he chases his rapidly approaching orgasm. His muscular body is slick with sweat, the beads of moisture dripping down onto your back as he fucks into you with wild abandon

"Shit, Chaewoo... I can't... I'm gonna fucking..." Jay's words dissolve into a guttural roar as his orgasm finally overtakes him. His cock swells even thicker inside you, before exploding, painting your inner walls with thick, hot ropes of his pent-up seed.

"FUCK!" Jay bellows, slamming into you one last time, hilting himself as deep as possible as he rides out the intense waves of his climax. His cock pulses and jerks inside your ass, pumping you full of his heavy load, just as he promised.

"uehjhnummm f- fifteen .... Minutes...."

"Thank you for your collaboration my love"

"Fuck...it...💦"

XD

A/n: to my special anon asked— there are 2 more requests but I think I'll probably doing only one more :'( it's take a lot of work to make this but this one is my favorite for this time being, feedbacks are free.

[yinyunnsworld]

High school Au

I never knew I’d come to like high school romances and the fact it’s the most cliche one: popular boy x quiet girl? Bro i was playing this one cai bot (cause i’m delusional) and there was this popular boy bot. I was like??? Ajdbxjehnen. You know, I’m almost graduating already and in the animes, they’re just starting their first year of high school meanwhile I’m already there at the end of everything. So here, I’m gonna share a prompt with you guys and uh this is mostly what i do at highschool back then:

Characters: various x readers.

Word: 1.1k

Warning: can be ooc. A train of thoughts so it’s messy. Typos are to beware of. Broken grammar. Unedited. First draft.

Imagine you’re an average student. Sure, you did have friends, you did your work splendidly, and although you’re not an academically smart or active student, the teachers still remembered you pretty much. You never played in the popular kids’ circles since most of the time, those students would outcast others who tried to be part of the circle when they had nothing to offer. It’s like a sore thumb sticking out and you’re just there, supposedly ruining their aesthetics with your ‘weird’ and ‘boring’ personality.

But you’re not bullied as well! You’re just very much a wallflower that if you were to blend in with the geek kids, you’ll stand out too much. Yet if you blend with the cool kids, you’re too bland.

That was until he came.

At first, he found you to be a rather boring person since you didn’t talk much yet when you did, you had the whole audience staring at you. By that I mean, when you came forth to perform a speech or any speaking assignment in front of the class, you knew what to do to make attention land on you. Even when you stepped down from the stage, that charm immediately vanished and you returned to nobody.

You would still be able to make lots of acquaintances with lots of people although they’re necessarily not your friends. When he asked others if they knew you by one coincidental day in which he didn’t even realize your image was playing in his head, and he’d unconsciously asked about you, others would tell him, ‘Yeah, I know her.’

And despite always downplaying things, he would sometimes scroll through your social media account by accident. He claimed that he did it because your recent post of you hanging out at your friend’s birthday party showed up on his feed (none of you followed each other since he was too conscious to even follow you), he saw that you posted mostly of yourself and of your friends. Well, perhaps there weren’t that many posts on your account since you didn’t exactly use it that much, but when you did post something, he would check on your profile to see if he missed out on your other previous posts. Sometimes, he would accidentally even click on your story, leaving a trail of his user visible on your history. Before he knew it, he already cursed himself for accidentally clicking on your story, but damn did the view you posted on the story seemed awesome.

Eventually, as time passed by, he grew to be more and more curious of you. There were instances where he would offer to be the leader of an assignment group just to take you as his member (he promised it was because he wanted your usefulness and all the skills you could offer that could help boost this assignment’s grade, even if his other friends disagreed).

And during sport’s day, where everyone was basically bathed in their murky and awful sweats, he would find you around the canteen area, attempting to buy drinks without getting busted by the teachers since it wasn’t recess yet. He would use this as a chance and made his way around to the canteen, showing up beside you and bought two drinks. One for him and one for you. He left the drink on the counter, in which you grabbed it and called out to him, and he turned around and spoke, “Oh, that’s for you.” With that, he ran away (thinking he was so smooth, huh?)

Sometimes, he would find you standing in the hallway after school, staring down at the courtyard on your way home. You would often take another route and it would change most of the times just to stall your time, not to go home too soon and enjoy the quietness of the school’s ground when there’s no disturbances. He got intrigued as he noticed your constantly changing route and would follow you from behind, a few feet away of course and acted like he was going home through that route too. Although, in fact he was just curious and wanted to know what you’d be doing after school if you’re not active or part of any activity group.

He would snicker when he watched you wait for someone to come and pick you up from school and you were sitting down on the floor. There was a huge black fat cat that came crawling towards you and sat on your thighs without your prior notice, making a claim on your lap as though it’s the cat’s decision whether or not it could sleep there. You’d panic yet you couldn’t push him off and looked around for help since your pick up had already arrived and you needed to get home soon. He showed up from the corner and helped you take the cat away from your lap. You’d thank him and left already, hurrying to your pick-up driver. He smiled friendly, although the cat glared at him.

And finally, he began to talk to you. Little by little, one by one, conversations between you two were exchanged. He didn’t think you’d actually have some complexity in your character despite always displaying yourself to be a quiet and boring person. You can be loud at times, weird, witty, and sometimes awkward and just embarrassing.

Slowly, the two of you became friends. And he didn’t acknowledge the fact that his heart was already advancing beyond the word ‘friendship’, it’d grown far too unsalvageable. But whenever he saw your oblivious smile to his feelings, he wanted to squish your cheek and pull you to a kiss to actually get the fact drilled in your head that he liked you a lot. But he didn’t and simply laughed at you whenever you’re oblivious to his advances, ruffling your hair to a mess. He would do anything to tease you and annoy you but never to actually lay a hand on you and hurt you like that.

He would just have to wait for the right time to say that he liked you.

Thus, he waited, and waited, and waited…

And now you’re here, celebrating that you’re finally graduating. And he would finally come to you, yet immediately turned cowardly to actually say something to you since you were smiling that day, taking pictures with almost everyone—even the ones you didn’t like because you didn’t want to leave regrets behind. He didn’t want to ruin anything for you, thus he simply remained silent and threw a fist of flour and poured it over to you out of playfulness in which he’d kept that grip of flour behind his back already this whole time.

[crowned-crimson-flower]

Ever wonder why Shen Yuan, the man who spent his entire life as NEET house hobbit somehow became the most charming, kind and wife beam owning member of SVSSS? Well here’s an angsty reason why— (EhEhEhE)

See because I’m chronically miserable I’ll spread like a disease during rainy season. What if he was a shut in but didn’t want to be? We all headcanon him as being sick, when he was a child, he’d get sick and everyone around him would worried

What is this time it’s too much? What if this is his last time? What if it’s actually it this time? What if he’s dying? Everyone made such a big deal out of his sickness all the time and they’d get so worried about it— six year Shen yuan felt horrible

His little friends would make him cards and he’d catch the small tear marks left behind on them and it would break his heart. He hated seeing people suffer— his friends, family, all of them

So little Shen yuan stood up on shaky legs and an IV tube in his arms and slowly walked to the window. He stared at the star-less sky with city air and clouds resembling factory smog and he made a promise; He will not worry anyone anymore. He won’t worry his friends or his family.

He became recluse. He stopped leaving his room. He never talked to his friends. He demanded he be home-schooled. He rarely interacted with people but when he did he was terribly kind. The servants loved him and looked forward to get him food, the maid would leave out toys for him and headchef always made his favorite breakfast

The trick worked in his family like a charm. In his eyes, they flourished away from him and this only confirmed his suspicions. He was a burden. He was better off gone. The day he turned eighteen he moved to a new apartment and all the servants cried because how could they not? This boy they’ve seen grow up with the kindest soul, the one who’d barely have the ability to get up but still waved them goodbye from the windows was finally leaving and the worst part? His family didn’t seem to care. There was no one left to care.

When he left, bags in hand, the good bye felt like forever.

The cycle continued, he remained reclusive and alone. His heart yearned for contact— for love and for care and for talking because SY loved to talk. That’s why he gravitated towards online commentary. He had so much to say but no one to hear him. Can you imagine living a life standing in a stage with an empty audience? Living each moment like a washed-up singer waiting for someone to notice them

He was awfully lonely and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He’d die anyway. Shen yuan wasn’t living, he was just dying. He lived half his life in hospitals with hope attached to his mouth as an oxygen mask and the other half mourning himself in front of porcelain bowls with day old vomit and yesterday’s flushed fever.

There was no one for him. He was alone. And it was his choice. Let that sink in

So yeah he got along with everyone after that, ofcourse he did, he spent a life time yearning for a chance to be loved, is it so shocking he took it?