#i also have never tried a background before

[heeseungsbabygworl]

hiii if you're comfortable with it... can we please get heeseung and reader watching porn together? 🙏🙏

hi babygirll sorry i'm responding a little late. this was.. well.. interesting?🤨

but sure whatever sails your boat I guess🤷‍♀️ (im joking I love). hope you enjoy babygirls!❤️

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"Press Play" — Lee Heeseung

[request] “press play” — lee heeseung x fem!reader

genre: kpopidol!au, smut, tension, kind of cute (?), one-shot

warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), porn-watching scene, mutual teasing, embarrassment, tension, oral (f receiving), protected sex, praise, slightly shy!heeseung turning into confident!heeseung

wc: ~2.9k

📝: i had fun writing this one lmao. also, just to make it 100% clear, im not assuming anything about heeseung having an entire folder of porn videos with tasteful thumbnails. (leave room for jesus)

༉‧₊˚.♡₊˚.༄

“Bet you’ve got some saved on your phone.”

It started with a dumb conversation.

The kind that only happens after midnight, after snacks, after your third can of soda, when the world feels a little off and your guard’s all the way down.

You and Heeseung were sitting on his bedroom floor, legs stretched out, backs propped against his bed. Some random horror movie was playing on low volume in the background, but neither of you were paying attention anymore.

He tossed a popcorn kernel into his mouth, chewed, then said:

“Wait, be honest. You’ve never watched it?”

You blinked. “Porn?”

“Yeah.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Obviously I’ve seen it, Heeseung. I’m not a nun.”

He snorted. “Okay, okay. But like… watched watched it? Properly? With full volume and no shame?”

You stared at him. “Why are you so specific?”

He shrugged, half-laughing. “I don’t know. I just feel like everyone either pretends they don’t or they act like they’re directing the next one.”

You rolled your eyes. “What, you want to have a deep philosophical discussion about amateur vs studio?”

“I mean, now I do,” he grinned. “Thanks.”

He caught it easily, smirking. “Bet you’ve got some saved on your phone.”

You threw a pillow at him. “You’re so annoying.”

You scoffed. “Bet you’ve got entire folders.”

“One folder. Very organized. Tasteful thumbnails.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on popcorn. “Heeseung, what the hell—”

“I’m just saying! You can tell a lot about a person from what they choose to watch.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So what do yours say about you?”

He hesitated. Smirked. “That I’ve got a thing for messy girls who talk back.”

Your stomach flipped. You tried to ignore it.

“…Right.”

You were both quiet for a beat.

Then he said, too casually, “You wanna watch one?”

You looked at him sharply. “What?”

“Not, like, weirdly,” he added quickly. “Just out of curiosity. I’ve never—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never watched one with someone else before.”

You stared.

“Unless that’s weird,” he mumbled, suddenly a little pink in the ears. “It’s probably weird.”

You paused. Thought about it.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you said, “Okay.”

His head snapped up. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound way cooler than you felt. “Why not. I’m curious now.”

Another beat of silence.

Then he grabbed his laptop from the bed, flipped it open, and cleared his throat like he was about to present a slideshow on the fall of Rome.

“This is so dumb,” he muttered, typing something in. “We’re gonna laugh and never speak again.���

“We already do that weekly.”

“Touche.”

You scooted a little closer, both of you leaning in, the laptop screen glowing between you. He scrolled.

There were thumbnails. Suggestive titles. A lot of skin.

You blinked. “Wait, you really weren’t kidding about the thumbnails being tasteful.”

“I told you. I have standards.”

You both hovered for a second. Then he clicked.

Volume low. Buffering. Your heart was already racing and nothing had even happened yet.

The video started. Breathy music. Kissing. Moaning.

And suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.

You felt it shift—the energy in the room. You peeked at Heeseung. His jaw was tense. His eyes were on the screen, but his fingers flexed slightly over the keyboard.

He glanced at you. You glanced at him.

Neither of you said a word.

The moaning on screen got louder.

Not obscene. Just... unmistakable.

And somehow, that was worse.

You tried to look casual. Eyes glued to the laptop like you were watching a cooking tutorial instead of a very naked couple doing very not-safe-for-school things.

Heeseung didn’t say anything either. Which was wild, because he always said something.

Your knee brushed his.

Neither of you moved.

You swallowed. Loudly. “So.”

“So.”

You were hyper-aware of everything. The way your shoulders were slightly touching. The warmth of his thigh next to yours. The scent of whatever shampoo he used—something clean, boyish, irritatingly attractive.

“Do people actually do it like that?” you mumbled, gesturing vaguely to the screen.

He snorted. “No. Real people don’t arch that much. Her back’s gonna snap.”

You laughed, and it broke the tension just enough. You leaned into his shoulder instinctively.

He didn’t move.

“You’re not weirded out?” you asked.

He hesitated. “No.”

You turned your head, and that’s when you realized how close you were.

Really close.

His face was angled toward yours, barely a breath away. The glow of the laptop cast his jaw in sharp light. His eyes flicked down to your lips before he quickly looked back at the screen.

It was subtle.

But not subtle enough.

Your heart stuttered.

You should’ve backed off. You didn’t.

“…This is kinda hot,” you said, almost teasing.

His breath caught.

“Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. Rougher. “It is.”

Silence again.

The kind that buzzes.

On-screen, things were escalating. Hands. Tongues. Breath.

You felt it in your spine.

“I’m not really watching it anymore,” you said softly.

He turned to you again, slower this time.

You didn’t know what possessed you to say it, but your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m watching you.”

He blinked.

“Say that again,” he said, voice wrecked.

You didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in—tiny, inch-long shift.

But it was enough.

Heeseung kissed you like he’d been holding back for months. Like he hadn’t known if he was allowed. Like he wanted to get it wrong but still try anyway.

It was warm and messy and a little breathless. Nothing like the stuff on screen. Better.

His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw, the other gently tugging you closer. Your legs shifted until you were nearly in his lap, laptop half-forgotten beside you, moans still echoing from the tinny speakers.

He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him again. Deeper.

Hungrier.

And this time, he made the sound.

Your breath hitched when Heeseung’s lips found your neck—soft, tentative kisses that turned bolder with every heartbeat.

“This okay?” he murmured, voice low and breathy against your skin.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

More than okay.

You shifted in his lap, straddling him fully now, knees on either side of his thighs. He looked up at you, pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe you were really doing this.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he admitted.

You smiled. “You could’ve said something before loading porn.”

“I panicked.”

You laughed—breathless, nervous—and kissed him again to shut him up.

His hands found your waist, sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips skating over bare skin. You shivered, arching into his touch.

“I didn’t think,” he said between kisses, “you’d actually say yes.”

“To watching?”

“To this.”

You leaned in, forehead to his. “Stop thinking.”

And he did.

He tugged your shirt off slowly, watching your face like he was memorizing it. Then his hands were on your hips again, squeezing gently, pulling you down to meet the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel—God, you feel so good.”

You rolled your hips instinctively, both of you gasping at the friction.

“You’re hard already?” you teased.

“You’re on me.”

You giggled, and he kissed you again, deeper this time. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing the edge of your bra. He hesitated.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

He reached behind you, fumbling a bit—and you bit back a grin at how red his ears went. “I swear I’ve done this before,” he muttered.

“Totally convincing.”

But then it unclasped, and he slid it off with gentle fingers, his breath catching at the sight.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He leaned down, mouth finding your chest—soft, reverent kisses that turned into warm, open-mouthed licks over sensitive skin. Your hands threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you gasped.

“Heeseung—”

He sucked a little harder, and you moaned, grinding down again. His hands gripped your waist tighter.

You could feel him straining beneath you, but he wasn’t rushing.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. “Can I touch you?”

“You’re already touching me.”

“Lower,” he said, voice hoarse.

Your stomach fluttered.

You nodded.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, fingers grazing heat and slick.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet.”

You buried your face in his neck, and he laughed softly. “Shy now?”

“Shut up.”

“Mm,” he hummed, fingers sliding slowly between your folds. “You like it when I talk, though.”

You gasped as he brushed your clit.

He grinned.

“Like that?”

“Yes—fuck—Heeseung—”

He rubbed slow circles, watching every twitch of your face, like he wanted to learn every part of you. Then, gently, he slipped a finger inside. You clenched around him.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Tighter than I imagined.”

“You imagined?”

“Baby,” he said, kissing your jaw, “do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”

You whimpered as he added another finger, pace steady and deep, the wet sound of it only drowned out by your breathing.

“I wanna taste you,” he murmured suddenly.

You blinked, dazed. “What?”

He smirked. “Lie down.”

You did.

He tugged your shorts and underwear down together, kissing down your stomach, thighs, knees, until you were bare in front of him and shaking.

He looked up. “Still okay?”

“Please.”

That was all he needed.

He dove in—slow licks at first, warm and teasing, then firmer, tongue circling your clit while his fingers stayed inside you, curling just right.

You moaned—loud, shameless.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, mouth still on you. “Let me hear it.”

Your hips bucked.

He held you down and sucked harder.

It didn’t take long—you came with a gasp, thighs trembling, fingers gripping the sheets.

He kissed your inner thigh, lips sticky, eyes glazed. “You taste unreal.”

You reached for him, tugging at his shirt. “Off. Now.”

He stripped fast, then slid out of his sweats—fully hard now, thick and flushed. Your mouth fell open.

Heeseung blushed. “Stop looking.”

“You’re hot.”

He laughed, grabbed a condom from his drawer, and rolled it on. “Come here.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hovered over you, noses brushing.

“This is really happening,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “It is.”

He lined himself up, eyes on you.

And then, slowly, carefully, he pushed in.

You gasped, legs wrapping around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel like heaven.”

He moved slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper—rocking into you with every slow, intense thrust.

You clung to him, nails dragging down his back, both of you panting.

“Faster,” you begged. “Please—”

He obeyed, pace picking up, hips slamming into yours, skin on skin loud in the quiet room.

You met every thrust, moaning his name, gasping his praises.

“Look at me,” he said, voice wrecked. “I wanna see you when you come.”

You did—trembling under him, crying out as you tightened around him and fell apart.

He followed right after, groaning your name into your neck as he spilled into the condom, body shaking.

You laid there tangled together—breathing, kissing, not saying a word.

Eventually, he pulled out, disposed of the condom, then crawled back into bed and wrapped his arms around you like it was the only thing he was sure of.

You rested your head on his chest.

“I should delete my folder,” he mumbled.

You giggled. “Keep it. We might need inspiration next time.”

He paused.

Then grinned.

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

You kissed his collarbone. “There’s gonna be a lot of next times.”

[noirscript]

lavender snow

pairing/s: yandere husband x f!reader description: You find the old tape by accident, tucked where no one should’ve known to look—yet somehow, Luca did. As her voice spills softly through the static, you realize you’re not listening to a memory… you’re remembering something you were never meant to forget. warning/s: yandere | hints of memory lost | implied past abuse note/s: I accidentally found out that my mic's fried af and got this idea. I might add this kind of content on my ko-fi for monthly subs? It'll come with complimentary fic of course. Also, I'll add the banner later. p.s. it's unedited audio so it's scuffed as hell.

Masterlist | Dark Roast | Sovereign's Reign Pre-Order | Commission | Tip Jar

You don’t remember the tape.

Not where it came from, not how it ended up inside a box of out-of-season clothes, or why your name is written on the spine in your own handwriting—faint and fading, like it tried to disappear. The box had been buried deep in the attic, hidden beneath moth-eaten sweaters and the sagging ribs of a broken umbrella. You hadn’t even meant to find it. But now it sits in your lap like it’s been waiting for you to come back.

The cassette is warm in your hands. No label, no markings, just a faint impression where something had once been stuck to it. Your stomach tightens. You’re not sure why, but you dig out the old player from the back of a cupboard and feed the tape into its slot. The machine shudders to life with a soft whirr, then static, and then—your voice.

“Hi, sweetheart. If you’re remembering this... I guess that means he’s kept it safe. Just like he promised.”

Your breath catches. The words settle heavily in the space around you, too tender, too familiar. It’s your voice, no doubt about it, but there's something off in the cadence—like someone rehearsing affection through clenched teeth.

You sit still, your eyes fixed on the aging plastic player as your voice continues.

“I thought maybe one day, when the world feels quieter... you’d want to remember this. Us. The way the light used to fall through the window at 4PM. How the air smelled like sun-warmed sheets and cinnamon. He always made sure everything was just perfect, didn’t he?”

A strange pressure blooms in your chest. You don’t remember making this recording. You don’t remember any of it—the window light, the scent of cinnamon, or whoever he is.

You sound so… happy.

Too happy.

The you on the tape laughs lightly, but even that sounds rehearsed. It’s too round, too smooth, like a laugh meant to soothe someone else. Not you.

“I don’t even know how long it’s been now,” your voice says. “Days feel a little soft around the edges. But every one of them is filled with love. He tells me that all the time. That I’m loved. That I’m safe.”

That last word—safe—wraps around your spine and squeezes. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way you say it. Quietly. Soft as a secret. The kind of word you only whisper when the truth is something you’re not allowed to say.

A prickle crawls over the back of your neck.

“Sometimes I dream about the park. That little bench under the jacaranda tree? You remember. I said something silly about the petals looking like lavender snow. You laughed.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry.

“That was before I knew how loud the world could be when you don’t belong to it anymore.”

The air in the room turns cold. You don’t remember that bench. You don’t remember that moment. But your body responds to the sound of it—like it’s chasing something long buried. Your shoulders draw in. Your fingertips twitch. A faint headache blooms at your temples.

“But it’s okay now,” the voice continues. “He says I don’t have to worry about any of that. Not anymore. Not with him.”

The machine clicks faintly as the tape continues to roll. You hear the rustle of fabric in the background. Wood creaking. A low breath, not yours. You pause the tape.

The room is silent.

You press play again, hesitating just long enough to question whether you should.

“I should go. He doesn’t like it when I record too long without him.”

There’s a pause. Barely a second. But it’s there. You can hear your voice hover just a little too long over that sentence, like you're waiting to see if the walls will punish you for saying it aloud.

“But I hope, when you hear this… you smile. Just a little. Just enough to remember me the way he wants me to be remembered.”

Another pause. Your voice drops lower, almost reverent.

“Perfect. Quiet. Home.”

Then: a click. End of tape.

You sit frozen on the floor. The stillness around you is thick and wrong. You want to dismiss it as a prank. Maybe an old performance, an acting exercise, something you’d recorded and forgotten about. But something in your gut rebels at the thought. This wasn't a character. That was you.

You stand, rubbing your arms, suddenly cold despite the sunlight slanting through the blinds. Your feet move without you telling them to, carrying you to the kitchen where you run cold water over your hands. But when you glance down, something catches your eye.

Your left palm.

Faint black ink, faded by time and skin, clings to the lines of your hand like a warning:

don’t trust him

You blink, heart stuttering. The writing is old. Worn. You scrub at it, but it doesn’t fade. You don't remember writing it, don’t even remember seeing it before today. But it’s your handwriting. And the fear in your chest tells you you wrote it for a reason.

You rush back to the box in the attic, tearing through what’s left. Beneath the collapsed lid of a hollowed-out book, you find a crumpled scrap of paper. Another note, also written by you.

“If you find the tape, go to the basement. There’s more.”

The words don’t make sense. You’ve lived in this house for two years. There is no basement.

But your body moves before your thoughts catch up. Your steps lead you to the hallway where a locked door waits. One you’ve always assumed was just a closet. You’ve never had a key.

Today, it’s open.

The stairs beyond descend into shadow.

You hesitate, every part of you screaming to stop, to turn around. But your hand grips the railing and you descend slowly, your heartbeat loud in your ears. The air grows colder with every step. The smell down here is old. Musty. Earthy.

And faintly metallic.

The overhead light flickers to life when you tug the chain, bathing the room in weak, yellow glow. There’s a table against the far wall. And on it—a cassette deck. Surrounding it is a neat stack of tapes. Dozens of them. All unlabeled. All pristine.

You approach slowly, dread sinking like lead into your bones. The deck is already loaded. You press play.

The familiar whir clicks to life. Then:

“Hi, sweetheart. If you’re remembering this...”

Your knees nearly give. It’s the same recording. Or no—not the same. A different take. You’re talking about a different day. Different sunlight. Different cinnamon. Different bruises, maybe.

You grab the next tape. And the next. One by one, you feed them into the machine and listen.

Each time, your voice greets someone with warmth. Each time, you sound a little more distant. A little more tired. A little more robotic. In one, you sound as if you’re crying through a smile. In another, you start to say something else—“If anyone finds th—” before the tape cuts off with a harsh click.

You begin to shake.

And then you hear something you hadn’t before.

In the background, beneath your voice, there’s breathing.

Yours. But not just yours.

Heavier. Male.

Closer.

Footsteps.

Not on the tape. Behind you.

You turn sharply.

Someone is coming down the stairs.

Your stomach turns. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The light above you flickers. A shadow moves across the wall.

Then a voice. Low. Warm. Familiar.

“You always forget, don’t you?”

You can’t breathe.

“That’s why I made the tapes. So you’d remember. So you’d always come back to me.”

He steps into the light. His expression is soft, fond. Too fond.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

The light buzzes overhead, then sputters out.

In the dark, the tape keeps playing.

And from it—your voice whispers one last thing:

“Perfect. Quiet. Home.”

tbc.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[sgstories123]

Sean's New Family

“Welcome home, the new Mrs Lee!” Sean’s father gushed happily as he led his new bride into the large living room. “Let’s go up and try the new bed!”

“Oh, you dirty old man! All you think about is sex.” The newly wedded Mrs Lee was obviously faking displeasure as she giggled seductively and pulled naughtily at Sean’s father, leading him up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Sean just stared after his father as he disappeared together with his new wife into their bedroom. He turned his attention back to the other person sitting nonchalantly in the living room, his new stepsister, Sophia.

Sean’s mother passed away when he was still a baby. Since then, his father, a successful businessman had been regularly bringing home different woman back to their home. He was used to all these “aunties” coming and going. None seemed to last very long, at most about a year. He was thus surprised that his father decided to marry Sophia’s mother despite having known her for less than a month. All the previous “aunties” were telling him that they will soon be promoted to be his “mummy” but had never succeeded. There was something special about Sophia’s mother.

Sure, she had huge boobs, D cup at least, maybe much larger. But she also knows how to dress and talk seductively. He has seen the way she looked into his father’s eyes. They were like a doe’s eyes, so soft and gentle. Any man’s soul would melt staring into them.

This was only the third time that he had met Sophia. His dad brought Sophia to the house for the first time when he announced that he was marrying Sophia’s mother. He then met her at the Registry of Marriage two days ago. And today was when their parents held their traditional wedding dinner. They had not talked at all during the first two meetings, but Sean thought Sophia was pretty and sexy. Clearly, she had inherited some of her mother’s genes.

Sophia had large breasts, not as large as her mother’s, but definitely at least a C cup, much larger than most girls of her age. She was thin, which made her breasts even more prominent. She had a small waist and a well-rounded ass. Her curves could easily put her on a fashion walkway. But the most seductive feature were her thick, succulent red lips. Against the background of her pearly white smooth skin, she was like a Japanese AV model.

“So, where’s my room?” Sophia asked in a husky voice. That was the first time Sean had heard her voice. It was so sexy.

“Upstairs.” He croaked, his throat dry.

“Are you stupid? Of course it is upstairs. Did you think I am going to sleep in the servant’s room on the ground floor? Which room is it?”

“The one at the end of the corridor, facing the swimming pool.” Sean finally found his voice.

Sophia was silent for a while before speaking again, in a gentler tone. “Sorry for sounding harsh. I am not used to this, you know. Living with strangers.” She sighed before continuing. “Mum is always a hopeless romantic, falling in love with different men all the time. But I guess we are now family. We are the same age, so I won’t call you “Kor” even though you are a couple of months older than me. Cool?”

“Yeah, cool.” Sean cursed inwardly. Damn. Sophia had those doe’s eyes as well. He could feel his cock stirring in his pants. He tried calming his cock down by trying to list the letters of the alphabet backwards.

“Show me my room?” Sophia stood up, her round ass swaying seductively inside her tight pink jeans.

Sean quickly adjusted his hard cock in his jeans so that it would not be so obvious before Sophia could turn around. He walked past Sophia and caught a whiff of her scent. Damn. She smells so good, like some fruit ripening in the woods. They went up the stairs and when they passed their parents room, they heard Sean’s father groaning loudly in pleasure. “You like that, huh? You like that? You like my big cock fucking your tight hole?”

Sean turned red with embarrassment. He turned back to look at Sophia who clearly heard every word. “Your dad, huh? Dirty old man.” She smirked.

At that moment, Sophia’s mum could be heard moaning lustfully. “Fuck me harder. I want your cock in my tight hole.”

Sean smirked back at Sophia. “Your mum, huh? Dirty old woman.”

They looked at each other and then laughed. The ice was broken.

“You are cool.” Sophia smiled, her eyes twinkling. “And cute.”

Sean’s pulse quickened, the blood gushing down into his cock. “Yeah, I am always cool.” Sean croaked, his throat going all dry again.

“That’s my room?” Sophia tilted her head towards the room at the end of the corridor. Without waiting for an answer, Sophia opened the door of her room, revealing a large king-sized bed with a thick, fluffy, pink comforter.

“Nice. My favorite colour.” Sophia sat down on her bed, bouncing slightly, testing the springs of the bed. She leaned back and laid down on the bed. Her blouse became loose and Sean caught a peek of the white, flat stomach against the tight pink jeans.

Sean moved closer to the side of the bed. Lying down, Sophia’s breasts rose rhythmically with each breath. Maybe a D cup or larger, Sean corrected himself, viewing the twin towers from this new angle.

Sophia sat up suddenly and looked at Sean with her doe eyes again. She glanced downwards and giggle.

“You are just like your dad. Dirty old man.” Sophia giggle.

Sean looked down and realized with horror that despite him adjusting his cock earlier, it was still making an obvious tent in his jeans. “Fuck!”

“Yes, why not? Let’s give little Sean down there a breather.” Sophia cooed.

She unbuckled his belt and tried to pull down his jeans. “Ouch!” Sean cursed as his stiff cock got caught in his jeans.

Sophia giggled. “Who ask you to have such a big cock? You deserve it.” She pulled down his Calvin Kleins and pushed his cock down before releasing it. Sean’s erect cock snapped back, hitting his flat stomach with a dull thud.

“Fuck! That hurts!” Sean cursed. “This is not a toy, you know.”

“Well, it is going to be my sex toy.” Sophia smiled seductively. She grabbed Sean’s balls, tugging at them and pulling them closer, as she licked them carefully, slowly tracing the contours with her tongue.

Sean moaned as Sophia’s rough tongue caressed all his pleasure points. Sophia wrapped her longer slender fingers around Sean’s cock, caressing it seductively, scratching it lightly with her fingernails along its whole length. Sean held on to Sophia’s shoulders for support as strength oozed out of him, surrendering himself to Sophia’s expert ministrations. 

Sophia wrapped her fingers around Sean’s cock, applying pressure along it, adding to his pleasure as she continued her tea bagging. She pulled and tugged at his cock, changing the direction and pressure, reacting to Sean’s moans of pleasure and involuntary thrusting of his hips.

“I am gonna cum!” Sean groaned as he thrust forward, his hand holding Sophia’s head tight, as he shot a stream of semen into the air. Sophia had not expected it and could not move away in time as Sean was holding her head tightly against him. Some of the semen got into her face and hair.

“Can’t you at least give some warning the next time? You know how difficult it is to wash this off?” Sophia pouted.

“Sorry.” Sean apologized. He was disappointed too that he came so fast. But Sophia’s blowjob was just out of this world, he reasoned. No one could last more than 5 minutes with that kind of blowjob.

“Sorry not good enough.” Sophia stood up and pushed Sean onto her bed. She took off her clothes, revealing her large breasts and a shaved pussy.

Fuck! Sean thought to himself. Those are definitely D cups! And a shaved pussy! He had fantasized about them after seeing them in porn but he had never fucked a shaved pussy before. This was a dream come true. His cock stirred.

“Nice! I don’t have to do anything and you are already ready to be my sex toy.” Sophia gushed. She straddled Sean, guiding his hard cock into her waiting, wet pussy. Sean’s cock found the entrance to Sophia’s love hole easily. It slid in easily into the well-lubricated love tunnel but half-way in, it met with resistance.

“Argh! Your cock is so much larger than any other cock that I have.” Sophia grimaced. Her right hand held onto Sean’s shoulder for support, her nails digging deep in as she tried to bear the pain of Sean’s large implement entering her. She leaned forward, positioning herself for an easier entry as she slide backwards.

Slowly, Sean’s cock inched in, spreading the walls further apart. But it was not fully immersed yet. Sean felt the base of his cock and there was about a finger’s width of his cock still outside Sophia’s body. But Sophia is no longer moving as the pain was too much for her to bear. Sean was getting impatient. With his cock still impaled in her, Sean sat up and turned Sophia onto her back. Not listening to her objections, he forcefully thrust himself deep into her, closing that last bit of distance between them.

Sophia screamed in pain, pushing hard against Sean’s body. Her resistance was futile as Sean lifted her legs up over his shoulders, ramming himself deeper into her. He was overcome with lust and didn’t care anymore if he was causing his sister pain. He paused for a second to enjoy the sensation of his cock enveloped by the warm, tight love hole. He grinded himself against the smooth pussy, sliding his pubic hair against the pearly white skin. The tip of his cock twinged with pleasure as it rubbed against the innermost sanctum of Sophia’s womb. Sean slowly withdrew his cock, feeling his cock head traversed across the many pleasurable folds along the love tunnel. As the whole length is almost out, he slowly pushed his cock in again, new pleasurable sensations run from his cock throughout his whole body as his cockhead brushed against the folds from a different direction.

Sophia relaxed herself against Sean as the pain subsided, and was replaced by increasing pleasurable sensations as Sean’s cock filled her a second time. Her vagina was getting used to his length and girth now, adapting quickly to the size of Sean’s large cock. She moaned softly in pleasure and as Sean picked up his pace, her moans grew louder and louder.

Sean rocked himself against Sophia, grinding her against her bed. He pushed harder and harder, faster and faster. His perspiration is falling onto Sophia’s large breasts now and he leaned forwards, burying his face between them. Grunting, he pushed himself even harder, forcing Sophia to curl upwards like a ball. Ramming vertically down into her cunt, he released his second load of semen deep into Sophia’s womb, without wasting a single drop. Exhausted, he finally let go of Sophia, rolling off to one side, satisfied.

The two of them lay silent side by side, each satisfied for the moment, enjoying the slowly subsiding pleasures from their bodies.

“I always wanted to fuck a shaved pussy. This was a dream come true.” Sean confessed softly.

“I always wanted to fuck a brother. This was a dream come true. Kor.” Sophia confessed softly. Sean’s cock stirred. Incest. Now that was another of his favorite porn theme.

“Oh my. Look what have we here.” Sophia’s mother appeared at the door, naked, her large D cup breasts jiggling as she spoke.

Fuck. Sean cursed himself. They should have closed the door. Now how is he going to explain to his dad?

“Hmm. Looks like I don’t have to worry about the siblings not getting along. Shall we join them, Mrs Lee?” Sean’s dad appeared behind Sophia’s mother, his cock limp and swaying slightly.

“I want a taste of that young, huge dick.” Mrs Lee looked hungrily at Sean as she walked forwards.

“Okay. But my cock is still bigger and I don’t think you will find Sean a better fuck than me.” Sean’s dad countered.

“Well, Sophia already had a taste of Sean’s cock. Why don’t you fuck her and see whether she thinks you are better than Sean.” Sophia’s mother climbed onto the bed and whispered into Sean’s ear. “And you better tell me that I am a better fuck than Sophia.”

Fuck! This is going to be an interesting family, Sean thought to himself.

[ochacoca]

Perhapsss... can u make some timeskip/msby!atsumu x figure!skater reader hcs hehehee

Like.. maybe they could have been schoolmates in highschool and reconnected later i dunno up to u:3

HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES

msby!atsumu x figure skater!reader

IN WHICH you see your teenage crush at a charity event. the same one you'd never forget and never shared your last high school dance with.

now playing ♫ night changes by one direction

word count: 2,126 words

a/n: i giggled like a maniac when i saw this request. i love timeskip atsumu and i love figure skating (i've never tried it but i used to watch ice princess religiously when i was little) also i just saw it said headcannons and i wrote a whole fic 🥀 so sorry

There were probably hundreds of athletes at this venue right now. You and others were invited to a fundraiser gala for Local Youth Sports Programs. You didn't recognize most of the people here. Even though you are an athlete yourself, you never really spend time trying to watch other sports. But none of those people mattered to you when he caught your eye.

You could recognize that blond tuft of hair from a mile away.

Even though the lights at the charity were quite dim and everything else was a bit difficult to make out, there's no way you'd be able to miss Atsumu Miya. He carried himself the same way he did at Inarizaki. He did look a bit taller and his hair was finally toned, but his loud personality never changed.

You couldn't help but stare. Your champagne glass was tucked between your teeth and as you held your gaze on him, creepily might you add, all of those memories came rushing back and felt so fresh. You were so zoned into him, you didn't even notice said man walking up to you.

“Y/N?” He called out to you, his eyes glimmering with disbelief. “Is that you darlin'?”

You froze immediately. You hadn't heard his voice in forever. Eventually after high school, you two went separate ways. With him going pro in volleyball and you going pro in figure skating, you guys never had the time to talk. The occasional ‘Hi’s or ‘How's your day going?’ slowly yet eventually came to an end.

“It's been too long, ‘Tsumu.” You greeted as a fat grin sat on your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you tried to keep your cool. You could feel the heat all over your body. It started from your head all the way to your toes and you felt exactly seventeen-year-old self again. His voice was just as you remember it: Sweet and soft like honey.

He stepped closer to you as he tucked his hand in his pockets, rocking himself back and forth as he shifted his weight from the ball of his feet to his heel. “I've seen ya on TV all the time.”

You tilted your head and gave him a small smile, playing with the hem of your dress as you tried to calm your nerves. “I've seen you too. You're still just as good as before.”

He still had that same smugness. You knew it immediately as he teasingly squinted his eyes at you. “Just like you. Spinning like a little beyblade in the air.” Atsumu joked.

You rolled your eyes and couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “Stop.” You giggled as you lightly smacked his shoulder.

He laughed with you, then held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, sorry sorry.” He said. He nodded his head to the left, pointing in the direction of his table as a silent invitation for you to come sit with him.

You two caught up on everything that's happened in the past few years after graduating from high school, but then you ran out of what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but you wanted him to ask them first.

An awkward silence filled the the atmosphere. The air felt heavy as your mind raced with hundreds if not thousands of what if's. Everyone in the background faded out, and the only thing you could hear was the thumping of your heartbeat and soft music.

“You know-”

“Have you-”

You both spoke at the same time and held eye contact with each other. Neither of you could hold in a laugh at the situation.

“You go first.” He offered.

“No, it's fine.” You said as you waved him off. “What were you going to say?”

Atsumu seemed hesitant at first, like he didn't want to say what he had in mind. You could tell by the way he repeatedly opened and closed his mouth before eventually blurting it out. “Do you remember what we said in 3rd year? During English?”

Of course you remembered. It was the only thing you were thinking about ever since he approached and a dark thought at night that keeps you from sleeping.

Atsumu was sprawled out over his desk as he groaned in your ear, complaining about something his brother did that annoyed him so bad he wanted to rip Osamu's hair out of his scalp. You were so used to his dramatics that you zoned him out as you continued to focus on your work.

He stared at you as you worked. You felt his eyes boring onto the side of your face until he grabbed your hand and snatched your pencil out of it. “Tsumu!” You gasped.

He planted his voice dangerously close to yours, your foreheads were practically touching, and you could feel each breath of his slightly graze your lips.

“Need'ya to promise something, okay?” He slurred, most likely from the nap he was taking 5 minutes before.

It took every bone in your body to fight the urge not to kiss him right then and there. “What?” You responded barely above a whisper.

His finger swung back in forth as he pointed between the two of you. “The last song at prom. Dance with me?” He suggested.

You rose an eyebrow as you looked at him with an incredulous look on your face. “Seriously?” You asked flatly.

“What?! We both don't have dates, might as well mingle together while the other couples do whoever knows what.”

“Okay, fine. I promise to dance with you at prom.”

He never showed up. You waited the entire song near the DJ stand, people-watching as couples danced together. You looked around as everyone had a look of love on their face while all you wanted to do was break down and cry. You left the venue as everyone started dispersing. The next day at school, neither you nor Atsumu brought it up again. ‘Maybe he changed his mind or found someone else to dance with.’ You thought to yourself

“Yeah.. yeah, I remember.” You said softly. Your hand immediately flew to your mouth to bite your nails, a bad habit you've picked up from the stress over the years.

There was a pause.

“Where were you?”

“Huh?” You blinked and slightly jerked back your head.

“I waited for ya.” He said. His eyebrows were furrowed and there was a slight pain written in his eyes.

You squinted your eyes in confusion and shook your head in response. “No, I waited for you.” You corrected.

“No. I waited by the punch just like we said!”

You looked at him sharply. “.. You told me to wait by the DJ stand.”

“No I didn't!– Did I?” Atsumu questioned. His face softened from hurt to realization as he looked into your eyes and could see that you were telling the truth.

You gave him a slow nod.

“Oh.” He murmured.

“Yeah..”

It went silent between the two of you again, yet this time it wasn't awkward. It was filled with regret and guilt. You couldn't believe how much time you two wasted off of the fact you couldn't communicate properly. You could only assume Atsumu was thinking the same thing.

“’M sorry darlin’..” He broke the silence. “I really thought ya just.. left me there.”

Your lips curled up. After all these years of you losing sleep over something so minimal, it was all just a misunderstanding. You were relieved, but also so annoyed that the two of you wasted so many years. “I thought you left me there.”

Atsumu tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically as a way to distract himself from the tense situation.

“I guess we both of us were kind of stupid.” He mumbled under his breath, still loud enough for you to hear.

Neither of you said anything after that. You were looking down at your lap and played with your fingers, and you felt his eyes on you. You looked up to see him anxiously biting the inside of his cheek, like he wanted to say something so bad, but he wanted to make sure you felt the same way too.

“Maybe, we can make up for it?” You suggested.

“How?”

“Y'know, I’m not a pro like you are. ‘M gonna eat shit if you put me on that rink.” Atsumu said as he tightly gripped the handrail inside the rink.

What better way was there to make up for your last dance besides going into the empty skating rink you conveniently had the key to. All of those late night practices were really worth it now.

You let out a laugh at the way his knuckles turned white so he wouldn’t slip. You skated over to him and softly held his free hand, tugging it towards you in a way of telling him to let go. “Don't worry. I'll hold your hands.” You turned away too quickly to notice the faint blush that was on his face.

As the two of them skated beside each other, Atsumu wobbled and doubled over more times than any of them could count as he tried to keep his balance.

“You look like a baby giraffe.” You wheezed and wrapped your arms around your stomach to ease the pain of how much you were laughing.

“Sorry, only one of us here has a Japan National Championship for gliding on frozen water.”

Atsumu seemingly got the hang of it after a while. Once you saw that you were able to leave him alone without him faceplanting on the ice, you grabbed your phone and set it on the side of the rink.

You skated back over to Atsumu, who was resting on the wall waiting for you to come back to him. Once you stood in front of him, he stretched out his hand in front of you. “Can I have this dance?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes at him playfully before taking his arms and wrapping them around waist as you rested yours loosely around his neck. “You're so corny.” You mumbled.

It wasn't perfect. You didn't expect it to be. Atsumu slipped a couple of times and you felt your hands getting more sweaty as you two stared into each other's eyes.

“Y'know… ahh, nevermind.” He started but quickly cut himself off, looking off to the side.

“No, what is it?” You said as you moved your head to be in his gaze again “Tell me.”

“It's just–” He spoke hesitantly and shakily exhaled. “I was kinda.. in love with ya in school.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You blinked rapidly as your eyebrows slowly rose until it practically reached your hairline.

“Really?” You asked him softly, taking the hand that rested around his neck and rubbing his shoulder gently.

“Yeah.. that's the main reason I asked ya to dance with me. Was gonna tell you how I felt, but obviously it didn't go according to plan.”

You let out a soft giggle and buried your face into his face. “Yeah.. not at all.”

The silence between you settled again as the music from your phone bounced off the walls.

“Did.. did youu..” He started.

“Did I what?” You asked him teasingly. You knew what he was going to say. You could tell by the little pout that was on his lips. The same way he pouted while you guys were teenagers.

“Oh come on darlin’, stop teasing me. Ya know what I'm asking.”

You lifted your head from his chest and looked into his eyes, bringing up your hand to rest against his cheek.

“Well, why did you think I said yes?”

His eyes searched yours, widened and surprised. His hand traveled from your waist to meet the side of your face as well. Slowly and carefully, you two leaned in and your lips met one another.

The kiss wasn't messy nor rushed. It was soft and built off years of yearning for each other. It was filled with all the love you two failed to confess years before. The way his lips moved against yours and how is fingers trailed your cheek and your jaw made your knees go weak.

If your seventeen-year-old self were here right now, she wouldn't believe what was happening. But the you now could only smile against his lips and melt against his body, the same way he was melting against yours.

how the fuck did i write this so quickly

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[parkjihoonswifey]

Hi can you please write something for Jun Tae (Weak Hero)? There is almost nothing with him on Tumblr. It can be anything just please I’M BEGGING for something

A/N: this felt like a very urgent request so I kinda just piled something up hope you enjoy!

Title: My Nerd

Pairings: Seo Jun-Tae x Fem!Reader

Warnings: absolutely adorable Jun-Tae

The click of buttons, the flicker of the screen, and the scent of buttery popcorn filled the room as you mashed your controller furiously. “You’re going down, Jun-Tae.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said with a smirk, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward, fingers moving rapidly. But then, as if something caught his eye, his gaze flickered to the side table. To the little black notebook he brought in with him.

You tilted your head. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just something I have to write down really fast,” he said, pausing the game and grabbing the notebook. He flipped to a page, scribbled something, and shut it again like it was a vault.

It wasn’t the first time tonight, either. Every few minutes, he’d glance at it, scribble a note, or just stare at it for a moment too long. Curiosity began to eat away at you.

Later, when he went to grab snacks from the kitchen, he left the book on the floor by his backpack.

You eyed it.

You waited.

You pounced.

Flipping it open, your eyes scanned the handwriting—rushed, messy, totally Jun-Tae. There were doodles, random thoughts, but what made your heart skip was a line near the center of the page:

“She smiled at me again today. I’m doomed. She’s too pretty when she wins. I can’t tell her, I’d ruin everything.”

Your heart thudded.

“I think I’m in love with her.”

You gasped—and then screamed as the door burst open.

“What are you doing?!—” Jun-Tae leaped over the couch. You squealed and took off, clutching the book as you scrambled around the living room, laughing and dodging his attempts to grab it.

“You read it! You weren't supposed to see that!”

“‘I think I’m in love with her,’ huh?” you teased, eyes wide, cheeks hot.

He tackled you onto the couch, one arm snaking under your back, the other reaching for the diary as you held it above your head. But then—he froze.

So did you.

He was close. Too close.

Breathing heavy. His hand still on your arm. Your chest rising and falling beneath him.

His eyes flickered to your lips.

And before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up just slightly and kissed him.

He melted into it—gentle at first, then deeper, like he’d been waiting forever.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “I like you too, idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jun-Tae blinked. “Seriously?”

You grinned. “Seriously.”

He smiled shyly at you, "I was just convinced you never felt the same, si-eun told me to just give up."

"well he's the wrong one here," you hugged him as he moved from above you.

The diary was forgotten on the floor as the two of you curled up under a blanket, the video game sound humming softly in the background. His arms around you, your head on his chest, fingers lightly laced.

It was perfect.

Until the front door opened.

“Jun-Tae,” your dad’s voice called, followed by footsteps. “Why are you still here? It’s midnight.”

Jun-Tae shot up like a startled cat, scrambling to grab his bag.

“Sorry, sir! I—uh—we—video games—leaving now!”

You tried to muffle your laugh as he stumbled out the door, blowing you a quick kiss before disappearing into the night.

You picked up the little black diary that still sat on the floor, hugging it to your chest.

Definitely your favorite sleepover ever.

A/N : I hope I made whoever requested this proud please also let me know what you think is good and anything I can do to make your reading experience on my account better.

[majka626]

A few people asked me to explain my standing on the theory "Homura being autistic" so I will try to bring up some significant points.

Of course given the lack of background for Homura's personal life and behavior (esp prior becoming a MG), you can take this with grain of salt, based primarily on my own autistic traits I can relate to hers, but also everything I've studied about autism from other autistic people themselves.

For the start, even the main reason Homura is my favorite character of all media is that for the first time, I found a character who resembles my autistic traits, personality and struggles (social, emotional, health). She made me feel understood even though she's fictional.

Now to the point;

-I'd start with a question I ask myself: What exactly is 'neurotypical' about her?

The girl is clearly dissociated with reality and lives in a completely different world with different rules than other people or girls her age. She's basically a "black sheep" and an outcast who doesn’t fit in. She also isn’t dwelling on the laws and rules (which I also found out to be common among autistic people who live by their own rules and have lack of understanding for social norms).

Here I talk about her social standing. It's usual for autistic people (including myself) to struggle socially, be shy, socially awkward and anxious, avoid socialization, bad at communication, etc. From what we could see about Homura from the start and given the brief informations on the drama CD or games) that I've heard, she has never socialized - even though the main reason was her health condition she's been born with, due to which she spent a lot of time and childhood in a hospital and isolated from other kids (if I remember right, some of the official material has extended her heart issues and hospital stay). It's true we could easily characterize this as an experiences that led to trauma alone than as something to do with autism, if we'd end it just there.

However, that doesn’t change the fact she lacks social skills, even if trauma partially played a part on it. Plus, autistic people are just generaly more prone to develop a trauma and mental issues in situations they weren't emotionally prepared for.

It's easy to see she was/ is completely terrified or discouraged of the idea of socializing and she's really.. not the best at communicating neither. Then there are the particular details in her communication, like being too blunt, in ways that are interpreted as rude.

Not to mention, she tried so many times and ways, yet she never really found the right way to communicate with others about the issues. Until she felt like giving up.

In summary, her social situation is unquestionably heavily "autism coded".

Next point, her famous love for Madoka. While her love is genuine and real, everyone is well aware it's "obsessive". And you know what else it reminds me of? A hyperfixation. Yes, autistic people can hyperfixate on another person too. Loving someone so much that everything else has little to no meaning in life, not being able to separate that person (or thing) from own mind or struggle to stay separated, the lengths she's able to go for her love, when one based their entire existence and purpose around that person because life without them just "isn’t possible", that's a clear symptom of a severe co-dependence and hyperfixation (the main thing I relate with as a traumatized autistic person myself, who simply can not live without a hyperfixation or a person who lawfully takes care of me and nothing else in life can make me happy and content). Then again, I feel like people ignore why has Homura fall in love with Madoka in the first place and narrow it down to just being gay, even though it wasn’t related with a sexual/ romantic attraction from the start. Homura (just like Madoka) is someone with a lot of self-esteem issues and a good deal of trauma before she even became MG. She felt trapped even by her physical condition (afterall, she didn’t know what it's like to live in a healthy body, therefore felt worthless). She didn’t really *feel* understood and respected by others. Until she met Madoka. Feeling Madoka's sincere kindness and consideration to her feelings, then seeing her in a heroic action to save her life, the first feelings she developed towards her were gratitude and admiration. Madoka has became her idol than anything at first. But with given experiences, the admiration has soon evolved into an obsession, eventually a love at the same time.

In my book at least it's a clear hyperfixation, which is another trait common for autism.

I can eventually add every new details each time they come to mind, or if anyone reading this has something to add as an autism trait I forgot, feel free, I'm interested!

For now these are the most explaining examples I could think of off the top of my mind, and of course it's ok to disagree, especially with given context of her immense trauma that can extremely remind of autism because we didn’t know her prior her trauma (I personally think she's always been going through trauma due to her health issues & isolation and never had a happy life, but that's rather subjective and based on the little I've heard and her behavior).

[lonelyroommp3]

I'm interested in your opinion on it as the expert, but I think Les Mis 2012 switching Dreamed a Dream to after Lovely Ladies was the perfect move and makes it hit way harder after Fantinr has lost so much instead of before

i think it's a really fascinating example of a choice that is perfectly made in the context of adapting the musical from stage to film, and which would absolutely not work for multiple reasons if you tried to replicate it for stage productions of les mis.

firstly, the standards for emotional verisimilitude are much higher in film than onstage, even in a movie musical where everything is naturally heightened and exaggerated and the audience is already suspending their disbelief far more than they would in a non-musical adaptation of les mis. that's taken even further by tom hooper's intentionally gritty approach (compared to the megamusical gloss of les mis on stage) and his penchant for filming solo numbers so close up that you can practically count the actor's nose hairs. i think in that context (and, more cynically, in the context of giving anne hathaway a better shot at a big shiny academy award) it makes a huge amount of sense to transplant the song to a point where the stakes are higher, more has been lost, and there's therefore much more to work with as an actor. in a stage performance of "i dreamed a dream" you can afford to paint in broader strokes because it's a park and bark classic where the actor can get across the full emotional power of the song through general stage acting through song techniques. in a consciously more intimate version where every microexpression the actress is up for scrutiny (and anne hathaway, even though she does demonstrably Have Pipes, is matching the intimacy of the camerawork with a largely vocally subdued and acting centred version of the song) i think giving her more to work with in terms of the character's emotional background is a massively smart choice

now, while i think you could make the argument that "i dreamed a dream" would also be more impactful from a storytelling perspective if we moved it to after lovely ladies in the stage show, i would argue that this fundamentally would not work for multiple reasons:

purely practical considerations: parking a solo number between two big ensemble pieces (at the end of the day & lovely ladies), before anything else, gives you the opportunity to reset your ensemble. les mis is a show that is generally very focused on maintaining a smooth flow between scenes & very much does not go in for long passages of scene change music, so you'd be looking at a direct transition between those two songs, both of which heavily feature specifically the female ensemble. if i was a dresser and you told me i had about 15 seconds to do not only a costume change but also makeup & likely wig changes for every single woman in the ensemble i would be calling not only my union but also possibly the police, which is the big reason i think this change will never make it to a staged production

pacing and flow: another major change the les mis movie makes compared to the stage production is that it's not entirely sung through. this means that the aforementioned flow of scenes is not really a consideration, and especially not when we bear in mind how the music itself impacts the pacing and flow. the stage show tends to pretty reliably alternate mid to uptempo ensemble heavy numbers with either passages of recitative that move the plot forward, or solo ballads - a lot of this is what i just mentioned about managing your resources with the ensemble (which is partially why we are able to see an exception to this in red and black -> dyhtps; it's all the same people in the same roles + some added ensemble later in dyhtps who've had the whole length of stars and red and black to change out of their beggar garb from look down/paris), but from the perspective of an audience who paid anywhere from tens to hundreds of pounds to sit in a theatre for 2.5 hours, it also adds a healthy level of variety that prevents them from getting either overwhelmed or bored.

the movie does its own version of this with the addition of dialogue (whether straightforward or in the form of added recitative scenes, such as the one we get between valjean and javert that comes between at the end of the day & lovely ladies). not only does this give you the necessary variation in the pacing but from a verisimilitude perspective it's also easier on an audience (who may be more film than theatre minded) than maintaining a purely sung through version of les mis. this means you're not going direct from ensemble number to ensemble number here either, so it gets away with that particular pacing dilemma quite handily.

on the other side of it, you've got the question of how to get fantine out of the ensemble number, sing her song, and then hop right back in to recitative mode when bamatabois rocks up. the movie does this through a combination of additional context, silence, and scene changes - we see fantine have sex with her first customer, she's left in silence, she sings the song, we have a little more padding & scene setting on the other side, and finally bamatabois comes in (and, notably, we don't get the full recit here). this gives time and space for the audience to adjust between the busy, ensemble driven setting of lovely ladies & the intimacy of i dreamed a dream, and back again. i don't think you can get away with that in a staged production without, again, compromising the flow.

i think there's also the issue that, as i mentioned, much of the emotional impact of i dreamed a dream on stage is manipulated through musical and vocal choices. you'll notice that claude-michel schönberg structures most of the show's big ballads (think of on my own and empty chairs, for example) the same way: 2 verses sung at a sensible mezzo piano, bridge that builds the emotions, 2 further verses that build up to a big belty climax, quieter ending. THE key emotional payoff comes from that moment where the actor absolutely lets loose ("so different now from what it SEEMED", "i've only been PRETENDING" and "a world that's full of happiness that i have never KNOOOOWN", "oh my friends my FRIENDS don't ask me"), in a way that we've been building up to without actually seeing at any other point in the surrounding 3 minutes. like i said, that's important on stage because you're dependent on those bigger, broader vocal choices to depict the emotional trajectory as you don't have the luxury of big close up camera shots to convey the actor's subtle changes in facial expression to the guys sitting up in row G of the grand circle (until we get the daniel fish or jamie lloyd versions of les mis i guess. a girl can absolutely dream). going into "i dreamed a dream" right after fantine has gone "DON'T THEY KNOW THEY'RE MAKING LOVE TO ONE ALREADY DEAD!!!!!" is not only kind of redundant and repetitive storytelling wise in a stage version that can't afford to whisk her away to a whole other scene to continue the story, but like. she's JUST done her big dramatic belt for that point in her story. we can't just go and do it again. it wouldn't feel the same!

so yeah. i'm not disagreeing with you that it was a perfect choice for the movie - i just began thinking about why and got thoroughly carried away!

[kirrbee]

*hours of my life wasted on putting sans in a hat (this really didnt have to take this long, but i think my dedication is comedic)

[arinmoss]

Mabel :^)

(she/her)

[keeps-ache]

that crushed sugar feel

[lorillee]

im really normal about them <- lie

[pearl-kite]

Hi I know this is out of nowhere and sorry if you answered it before. Also totally ok if you don’t want to answer

But your blog got me super interested in the redacted asmr thing

I did some research and you seem to know a lot about so do you know if there’s any like, chronological order I should watch them?

Love your blog!

Absolutely no worries! I like getting stuff to respond to, it's the opposite of a bother <3

So Redacted Audio, formerly Redacted ASMR, is a channel on youtube with a, quite frankly, massive amount of audio, and since it's been running for over 4 years now it can be a LOT to sort through. Fortunately, he's done a really good job curating and organizing playlists for the different speaker-characters.

Everything is within the same universe, and many of the characters have interacted with each other. The context is that the location is a fictional city named Dahlia set somewhere in California, which is a "cornerstone" city for magical society. The best way to get a solid rundown on magic and the setting is to listen through the Freelancer Season 1 playlist.

This one is already arranged in chronological order* and also has the benefit of giving a sampler of sorts for a wider variety of speakers. One thing to be aware of ahead of time: While this was actively being published, Erik hadn't decided who the listener-character (nicknamed Freelancer) would be romancing, so it starts off with a lot of potential toward all of them except Caelum. As it went, there were polls in the discord server that he used to run, and popular consensus eventually narrowed it down to Gavin. The first time I listened was after all of that, and I was more fond of Damien, but I'm personally pleased with Gavin now, and this playlist has been one of my favorites to just revisit if I'm bored.

*Well, mostly. There was a point where the channel got a strike for some of the audios being too spicy and he removed and/or edited some of them to try to avoid being demonetized. The first Gavin audio is one of the ones that got edited, and #3 on the playlist accidentally got relocated. It's been a long time, but I think it was originally after what's now #6, the second Caelum audio.

Aside from that one as a good introduction to the channel as a whole, there are some "main" characters that have had the most attention.

One is a group of wolf shifters: David, the current head of the pack (Chronological for his listener. A lot of people aren't super fond of the earliest ones for him, #3-5, because the character evolved a bit and they aren't really representative any longer) Asher, his second Milo, another pack member, which is absolutely underselling him, he's one of my favorites

There are a couple of vampires: Vincent, the OG for the channel Sam, a common favorite who's listener is a member of David's pack

While most of the playlists are specific to character, there are a few thematic ones as well, all of which are chronological within themselves. Now, chronology with respect to each other can start to get a bit confusing, because of how long it's taken for some of them to play out.

If you want to get a feel for the characters before worrying too much about timeline, I'd listen through most playlists as they're arranged with one main caveat:

When you hit the audios titled Inversion, give those a pause until you've listened to more speakers. Inversion was a huge crossover he did that has 10+ speakers involved.

A personal favorite has been Vega. I'm actually super not fond of the first audio he's in, which is also in the Freelance list, so I skip that one when I relisten. The first one in this list is that one with the Freelancer, but the second and onward has a demon listener nicknamed Warden. We just got an update on his story today/last night and I've been a little unwell about it 🙃

I am realizing I could go on and on and on and I kind of have, so I'm going to stop there. Hopefully that's enough to dip your toes in. I'll gladly help out with any follow-up questions, too :3

[ranarenee]

Roxas I love you but you hair is STUPID!!!!!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[rosemaryhoney27]

“Danny vs. Gotham: Rogues, Riddles, and Regret”

aka: Gotham's Villains Realize They've Made a Terrible, Terrible Mistake

Vlad wanted to leave. He wanted to scoop Danny up, fly far away, and pretend the Gotham trip never happened. But Bruce had insisted Danny stay another week for “family bonding.” And Vlad—against his better judgment and his rapidly thinning sanity—had agreed.

What he hadn’t agreed to was sending Danny out on a “light patrol run” with Red Robin and Spoiler.

“He’s a child!” Vlad hissed. Bruce shrugged. “He suplexed a gang leader and sword-fought Damian with a smile.” Tim sipped his fourth espresso and muttered, “Kid’s got better reaction time than half of us. Might as well let him stretch his legs.” Vlad: internal screaming intensifies

Later That Night – Gotham Financial District, 10:22 PM

It should’ve been a routine patrol.

SHOULD’VE.

But this was Gotham. So naturally, they ran into Riddler. And not just Riddler. Riddler with a microphone, a speaker setup, and a slideshow.

“Riddle me this, Batbrats!” he declared, laser pointer in hand. “What flies forever, rests never, has no lungs but can still scream?!”

Danny blinked. “That’s wind.”

Riddler paused. “…I—I wasn’t done.”

“You said it in the wrong order. Classic misdirection. Also, you did this one in Amity Park two years ago. You posted it online.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, it was part of your ‘multi-state riddle tour.’ You rhymed ‘obfuscate’ with ‘paperweight.’ My friend Tucker roasted you for a week.”

Spoiler wheezed. “OH MY GOD.”

Tim was filming. “This is gold.”

Danny smiled like a polite little demon. “If you want new material, I can send you Tucker’s podcast link. He does villain reviews.”

Riddler stared, brain lagging. “I—I have—graphics—”

“You spelled ‘cerebral’ wrong on slide 4.”

“…I hate it here.”

Five Minutes Later

Riddler’s henchmen surrendered unprompted. Riddler ran face-first into a recycling bin while trying to flee. Danny phased him through the lid and said, “Please stay in there until Gotham has better riddles. Thank you.”

Tim couldn’t breathe. Spoiler was crying laughing. Danny handed Riddler a sticker that said “I Tried My Best (And Failed)” before floating away.

But It Got Worse

Because then, Scarecrow showed up.

And naturally, he released his newest fear gas on the group.

“Let’s see what horrors hide in your soul, little ghost,” Crane sneered.

Danny blinked as the gas swirled around him.

Then sneezed.

Then sniffed it.

Crane: “What—what are you doing—?!”

Danny: sniff sniff “Ooh. Cinnamon and despair. Very vintage.”

Crane: “THAT’S NOT HOW FEAR GAS WORKS—”

Danny exhaled, glowing green, and the gas dissipated.

“I’ve been inside the Ghost King’s mind, dude. This is like spa day fog machine levels. You want real terror? I have a VHS of Tucker’s high school poetry.”

Crane dropped his canister and backed away. Spoiler whispered, “He’s ungasable.” Tim, still filming: “That’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve seen this week.”

Danny offered Scarecrow a cough drop and a tissue.

“Bless your heart,” he said.

Crane ran.

Later – Back at the Cave

Danny was handing out debrief cookies. Again.

Bruce was watching the security cam footage with the face of a man who was trying to process “he sniffed the fear gas.”

Dick leaned over. “This kid’s either going to save Gotham or traumatize it into behaving.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “He gave Riddler a sticker. That’s psychological warfare.”

Damian looked up from sharpening his sword. “He told me he once bit a cursed toaster.”

Vlad, in the background, was staring at the Batcomputer like it had personally betrayed him. “I—he—he ate fear gas. He corrected Riddler’s grammar. He is not normal.”

Bruce looked at Danny, who was humming while reorganizing the med supplies.

“…He’s a Wayne.”

Vlad: “NOOOOOOOOOO—”

[eraserbread]

Whats on my mind… oh nothing 😞 just uhhh reverse cowgirl mirror sex where Nanami forces you to watch yourself 😔

"do you trust me?"

you nod slowly in the bathroom, pressed against the counter with your husband at your back. it's date night, your favorite and a pain in the ass for kento. you two have a standing agreement - twice a month. he plans everything, never asking for further input, because loving you was not your responsibility, it's his.

the night went off without a hitch -- expensive dinner in the city, shimmering diamond boxes, and your sweet smile wrapped up in a modest dress.

six hours outside of the comfort of his home has him treasuring the twenty minutes back. now, he's watching you pick your jewelry off in the bathroom mirror, smiling shyly at him every few seconds when you feel his eyes linger.

you're playing your stupid sad music, and he's dealing with it for so long, because you just look so beautiful. so pristine and stoic when you're coming undone. almost... edible.

"look at you," he mutters, thick fingers finding the hidden zipper on your dress. in the large front-facing mirror, you give him a passing side-eye, swallowing back a giggle. "beautiful."

"stop," you tease, placing your bracelet upon your pile of gold to filter through later. "I'm not even doing anything."

"you don't have to constantly perform to be beautiful to me," he reassures, kissing over your bare shoulder before pulling the zipper to your waistline. the fabric bunches around your figure, loose and welcoming. kento's lips meet the middle of your back, just under your neck. it tickles, you draw a half-smile.

and you know it's coming, but you still gasp. he presses a hand to the small of your back, forcing you into a perfect ninety-degree over the cool porcelain.

your dress comes undone around you, falling from your body and hanging on like a vice. nanami tugs it from your skin and tosses it away. all you're left in, blinking up to see him through the mirror, is your underwear. no bra, no slip, no cover—just you and your flesh-colored decency.

"you always know the right things to say." you reply, voice muffled as you rest your chin on crossed arms. behind you, he's pulling open his shirt, smiling so fast that you could blink and miss it.

making love is muscle memory, now. kento's always and easily hard for you -- you're always welcoming with slickness and beauty. if you were counting, surely it'd be the fourteen-hundredth time he's slid your panties to the side and dragged his beautiful flushing tip between your cunt, sending a steady stream of air between his teeth.

he closes both big hands over your waist, guiding you back to slide against his cock. you're coating him thoroughly in all of your arousal, whining stupidly in your skin, begging for more.

"please, baby." you bite, furrowing your head deeper into your arms as his cock just eases right in that perfect little dip of your entrance before popping free.

breathless already, kento nods. "look at me, doll. can i see your face?"

"put... put it in." you ignored him, so kento ignores you. instead, he wraps his hand around the front of your neck, pulling you flush to his clothed chest. you're bare, blushing, and completely at his visual mercy. the soft hum of background music covers your little whines enough that you weren't as embarrassed.

"look at me." he tries again, peeking his head in the crook of your shoulder. he leans down, kissing your dewy jawline and licking over your neck. he's humping over you from behind, tight hips focused and precise as he hits the promise of penetration every time. "nanami, open those eyes."

"so embarrassing," you shake your head, brave enough right now to defy him without second thought. you could open your eyes to study his flushed, serious face bright against your skin, but that means you'd also have to see your flushed, horny skin and smudged makeup.

"what is embarrassing? i don't understand. it took you nearly two hours to do your makeup in this same mirror tonight."

"that's different-

"no, it's not." he cuts you off, tone dipping into that familiar authoritative way that makes your knees buckle.

your nanami is strong enough to lift anything. with or without his curse, so it's nothing for him to lean down, sliding his hands behind your knees. you're not sure what you're expecting, but it's not for him to hoist you up.

jarred, your hands fly up for some kind of stability. you end up with one curled around the back of his neck, the other digging into the muscle of his arm that's holding you up.

"what are yo-

"hm," he answers for you, taking a step closer to the edge. he guides your dangling heels down into the counter, kissing all over the back of your neck. he drags one hand free from holding you up, taking it down to his cock to position it just right for gravity to sink you down half an inch. it's enough to pull a reaction out of you, just to knock you breathless.

"ohmygod, can't-

"you will." he's demanding you with a dark edge to his careful tone, pushing his hips far enough for the angle to give his cock the perfect shot at that spongy, sweet spot inside of you.

you're tossing your head to the side, warding off his dark stare over your shoulder. then, he's taking a big step back, leaving your toes grasping for friction and your body loose enough to slide all the way down his thick length.

the intrusion sucks a deep cry from your lungs, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes squeeze shut. "f-fu, kentooo!"

in the mirror, nanami's eyes are hooked onto the slick intrusion, obsessed with the way his cock disappears inside of you. your thighs are trembling in your reflection, warm pussy blooming deep red from the stretch. he has to swallow down anxious gobs of want just so he doesn't loose control and fuck you in the way he knows he shouldn't

But it's hard—impossible, really. you're whining so pretty, clawing at him so needily, saying his name like it's your gospel. he's obsessed with it—with you and how you take him like it's the first time, every single time.

he thinks all of these sinful thoughts as you gather your bearings, eventually blinking open your eyes for an intense blush to coat your naked body.

the reflection you find yourself staring into is lewd but personal and beautiful in a way only you and kento could achieve. he's so tall behind you, big and caring as his hips rock upward, fucking you so gently and loving. he's kissing all over you, but only where he can still blink up and watch your needy, perfect cunt swallow him up like a pill.

smudged makeup runs down your face as tears spring to the surface. you're so off balance, that you let yourself fall back on him, and he doesn't even falter. kento holds you tighter, completely pressing your thighs into your chest and running his tongue across your shoulder.

"watch it, dear. look how you're taking me," he bites out, tongue running over his top lip. thick lines of arousal drip and squelch against his cock and it's so filthy to watch, but you do. you're a good listener, and nanami loves how embarrassed you get when he steers too lewd. "it's my favorite view. just wanted you to see this time."

"st-stop, it's too muchhhh -- fuck!"

"it's okay, you're okay, i know."

"mmh, i'm gonna..!"

"yeah? keep those eyes open." kento's whispering in your ear and his voice is so sinful and graceful, laced with so much beauty and love. "ah - open'em."

for the first time in forever, ken cums before you. he's biting into your shoulder, keeping his eyes open and staring into your stretched cunt. like a gentleman, he fucks you through it, staccato grunts growing more desperate with each dragging thrust.

this time, you're caught staring as the seed coating his length forms a sticky, white rim against the base. it's so unapologetically sinful that it drives you crazy and fuels your heart and mind in so many beautiful love-licked ways.

his familiar face is stoic, yet ever-changing as he pants and kisses your ear. thoughtful to the core, kento doesn't stop until you're crying his name and gushing warmth all over his stained cock, begging him for more he's already given, but would give you ten times over.

you two have found it—that perfect semblance of give and take that makes every emotion and touch light fires you didn't even know existed. kento is so gentle when he puts you back down on your feet, chasing kisses when you turn around that you give, and he takes.

it's a lifetime thing. an unsaid thing.

a beautiful thing.