#maybe not giving people a chance to get to know the real me is a bad thing actually

[ivoyzzz]

stick with me

synopsis: saebyeok enters the game and to her surprise she sees you. she had broken up with you since everything was getting too real for her. it had been a few months, will the games bring those feelings back?

warnings: normal squid game violence but happy ending

a/n: using the s2 rule where the players split the money if the vote wins bc im in denial about them dying. literally posting all my drafts

when saebyeok joined the games the one thing she wasn’t planning on was seeing you there. you had been out of her life for a few months now, but here you were sitting against the wall looking like a sad puppy who had been kicked. how did you even end up in this place? saebyeok ponders to herself, how did you even collect enough debt that you would need to come here? a billion questions floated through her mind. what breaks her out of her thoughts is the glow from the lights of the piggy bank filling with money. one hundred million won per person who died in red light green light.

saebyeok walks over to you, her glare burning your skin. “why are you here?” she says in that low rumble that used to make you go woozy. by just listening to the tone of her voice, you would’ve thought that she was angry, but you know her better then that. when you look at her face, you see the way her eyebrows furrowed so very slightly. or the way her eyes were just even the tiniest bit sharper. you knew this look, worry.

“why are you here?” you shoot back, you knew saebyeok didn’t always do the most legal things but she shouldn’t be here just as much as you shouldn’t. she looks almost, just the slightest bit annoyed that you would ask her that. saebyeok doesn’t say anything she just takes a seat next to you on the floor. “you’ll die here.” saebyeok mutters not even looking at you. “then lets stick together.” you reply quietly back. she glances at you from the corner of her eye and in that moment you both knew that you couldn’t lose each other again.

during the next game, you looked over all the shapes carefully trying to decide which one you should choose. this was really life or death. saebyeok didn’t even give you a chance to walk over to a line, grabbing onto the sleeve of your jacket and pulling you to the triangle line. saebyeok had told sangwoo what she saw in the vent and he picked triangle. the game turned out to be dalgona and thank god she chose triangle.

during the riot, you couldn’t find saebyeok. it made you sick to your stomach to think about what could’ve happened. what if that thug had gotten to her? you were going to find somewhere to hide but then you feel that oh-so familiar hand pull you with her to a group of unfamiliar people. the rest of that night is blurry, everything happened so fast. but saebyeok was okay and that was what mattered. and you were okay and that was what mattered to saebyeok.

the next morning, you begin to familiarize yourself with these new faces. player 199, easily became someone you could call friend. he had this hope in his eyes that wasn’t easy to keep in a place like this. saebyeok on the other hand didn’t make an effort to talk to anyone in the group, she didn’t come to make friends. that doesn’t mean she wasn’t watching you 24/7. the others noticed it, the way her gaze softened when you talked to her. the way she walked behind you, like a guard dog.

when the next game had announced that everyone was to get in groups of 10. when everyone realized that you only needed 4 more people, sangwoo sent you and saebyeok to find someone and everyone else to find one person. he was very clear to find a man, not a woman. saebyeok wasn’t going to listen to a word coming out of his mouth, saebyeok led the way with you trailing behind her. she was looking over everyone, maybe judging them but none caught her eye. that was until she saw a girl sitting by herself on the stairs. she walked up the stairs, and when she walked back down she had now both of you trailing behind her. ji-yeong was curious about the two of you. the way you easily conversed with her while saebyeok looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else.

after your team had won tug-of-war, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt. did those people really have to die so that your team could live? when the team walked back in, everyone was exhausted. the feeling of guilt was overcrowding the burning of your hands from the rope. saebyeok noticed this immediately, she picked up on your cues. so when you sat against the wall playing with a loose thread on your jacket she followed. “it’s not your fault.” saebyeok murmured, talking to you as if you would break into a million pieces. “i know, but-“ you tried to pull out the words that were running around your mind. and she let you, she sat there patiently and it brought back all those old feelings. the feelings you insisted were gone. but when she made you feel like you were the only one in the room, it was hard.

“we killed those people, they all had lives and now they’re over because of us.” you finally managed to get out, a shaky exhale leaving your dry lips. “it was them or us. we won and now we keep going.” saebyeok says truthfully. that was one of things you liked about saebyeok, she wasn’t one to sugarcoat things. you hadn’t even noticed that her hand had made it’s way on your wrist, her thumb rubbing small circles. you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to saebyeok just giving her a small nod and focusing on the way her comforting hand felt.

you and ji-yeong became fast friends, enjoying just the slightest bit of normalcy in this strange place. saebyeok on the other hand felt like she was babysitting, all the time. when the both of you were together you acted like children. “both of you be quiet.” saebyeok would say when you two would be up talking when all she wanted to do was sleep. she would think to herself, “have you idiots forgotten why your here?” although saebyeok liked seeing the way you laughed again, she hadn’t seen it since the two of you broke up.

when the vote had came she chose to stop the games. the prize money per-person was enough, the risk of loosing you wasn’t worth any amount of money. the majority ruled to stop the games. you felt a sigh of relief leaving your body. no more watching people die, no more fear that the girl you loved was going to die.

after the games things changed. saebyeok bought a small house. there lived saebyeok, cheol, you and ji-yeong. saebyeok had realized in the games that she couldn’t let you slip out of her grasp again. she almost lost you so many times in the games and it wasn’t going to happen again. you and saebyeok rekindled realizing that both of you were stupid to let it go. she couldn’t even remember the reason why the relationship ended. but she did know that both of you had love for each other and that was enough.

saebyeok lived simply, she went to work, took cheol to school and dealt with you and ji-yeong. she thought the both of you were bad in the games, out here it was so much worse. but she wouldn’t trade the chaos for anything. saebyeok liked seeing the way you were with cheol, it made her only love you more. saebyeok always showed you that she loved you, and you knew. even if it was just reaching for your hand when walking, or pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. and saebyeok could finally say she was happy.

[soangelbaby]

❤︎ you’ve been mine ; charlie baker x reader

‹𝟹 synopsis ; charlie baker is your brother's bestfriend, and he's 3 years older than you. you've always wanted each other but your brother has deemed you off-limits but this valentine's day, all bets are off the table, who will make the first move ?

the house was quieter now, the chaos of your brother’s valentine’s day party fading into the background. the room was a mess, scattered with red and pink streamers, deflated balloons, and the aftermath of too many drinks. but all you could focus on was the heat creeping up your spine and the adrenaline buzzing in your veins as you tried to steady yourself on shaky feet.

you should have been out with friends—maybe hitting up the local bar or at least making some kind of memory that didn’t involve cleaning up after your brother, you could’ve tagged along with your best friend, but her and her boyfriend had a romantic date planned, and you, well, you weren’t exactly in the mood to play third wheel. your other girlfriends had their own plans too—some with their boyfriends, others out with people you didn’t really know. you didn’t mind the solitude, really. you never did. but tonight? tonight felt different.

throwing another crushed red cup into the trash, you turned around to see charlie entering the doorway. shirtless, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass that was nearly empty. he wasn’t even trying to look casual; it was in his nature. his messy hair was falling into his eyes, and he now wore some basketball shorts that clung just a little too perfectly to his hips. he didn’t say anything right away, just stood there watching you for a moment, as though he were giving you a chance to catch your breath, to pull yourself together. but you could feel it, the tension in the room building, thick and palpable.

“still cleaning up?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as if the very act of talking was another way for him to pull you in. you both had been circling each other all night, love in the air, the alcohol, and charlie’s lingering looks, all amplifying your emotions—making this all feel too real, and charlie look too good. you shot him a fake smile, “yeah, someone has to. you could help y’know.” you mutter, dropping the bag of plastic cups on counter. running a hand through your hair, you exhaled, reaching for your water bottle beside you, mind still hazy from shots you took throughout the night.

charlie snickered as he watched you, setting his cup down as he made his way over, raising his hands in mock surrender. “yeah? i thought i was off the clock.. but i guess i could help.” he rolls his eyes grabbing the half full bag you were previously were using off the counter, “you sure this isn’t just your excuse to get me closer now?” your pulse quickened, a nervous flutter in your chest. the way he was looking at you, his eyes dragging over you, taking in the sight of your red satin dress, though slightly disheveled still clinging to your curves. one strap hanging off your shoulder, you spun around nudging him as you pulled it up, “you wish, baker.” you laughed softly, trying to play it cool. and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the tension, but you felt yourself drawn to him, more than you ever had before.

he grinned, a hint of that charming confidence shining through, and without another word, he slid closer, brushing his hand against yours on the counter, “right, i forgot you’re scared of your brother.” charlie chuckles, throwing the empty dishes into the sink. you crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as your brows drew together, “i’m not scared, just… cautious, you know how he is.” you mumbled, leaning against the counter huffing. charlie nodded in amusement, a low laugh escaping his lips, “but he’s not here now, is he?” he raises an eyebrow, tying a knot in the garbage bag before taking a step closer to you, “you don’t have to pretend anymore y’know? i’m right here, and i mean, it’s valentine’s day.” he hummed, adjusting your dress strap as it began to fall again. your breath hitched in your throat, feeling the heat radiate off his body, his piercing gaze locked onto yours, “charlie—we shouldn’t—“ you started off, voice barely audible as you weakly protested.

but there was nothing stopping you guys now, all the times in the past, your brother had interrupted, always catching you before things got too heated. and like charlie had said, he wasn’t here now. “maybe we shouldn’t—but we can. and you know we will.” he muttered, his large hand slipping to the back of your neck, tugging the hair at the nape of your neck slightly. you gasped, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hesitating, half-lidded eyes searching his own. “if we do this—we have to be quiet.” you whispered fimly, gaze dropping to charlie’s bare chest before back up to his eyes. a lazy smirked tugged at his lips, his free hand dropping to grip your waist, the soft fabric curling under his fingertips, “you think i can do quiet?” you smacked his chest playfully, rolling your eyes, “charlie i’m serious! my room is right next to his, if he hears, i’m basically dead.” you shot back, gripping his shoulders firmly, acrylic nails digging into his skin, leaving impressions.

charlie’s eyes shot behind you, and he grinned, “i could always take you in the pantry,” he mumbled, one hand sliding up your back, your cheeks heated up at the thought, and more so at the possibility of your brother coming downstairs. but it was the quickest—and quietest option, so you weren’t exactly opposed. you grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward the pantry swiftly, the wooden door closing softly behind you both. you flicked the switch a few times, before realizing your brother never switched the bulbs when he was supposed to. “asshole..” you whispered, but to your luck, the lights from the kitchen barely shined through the blinds of the door, partially illuminating charlie’s large frame in front of you.

“no light, but we can make it work.” you said, a little breathlessly, hands already tugging at his basketball shorts, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, sliding up your little dress as he hoisted you up against the door slightly thumping, “fuck—i’ve been waiting to do this all night,” charlie groaned against your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, his hips pressed flush against yours. your hands tangled in his hair, arching into him, you could feel his hard-on rubbing against your stomach, craving any type of friction, “needa feel you already, charlie please,” you moaned, he pressed his chest against yours, one hand gripping your ass as he held you up to tug off his shorts. his dick brushing your thigh as it sprang free, pushing up your dress and tugging your panties aside, charlie lined his dick up at your entrance, arousal already coating him, “made me wait so long for this, s’been torture, baby.” he grumbled, sinking into you with a low groan. you gasped, feeling your walls clench around him already, at the stretch of him inside you.

“mm, so fuckin’ tight—” his hips stuttered against yours, hands tightening around your waist as he sped up, your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer if possible. his dick twitched inside you, “i’m not gonna last—fuuck” you could feel the tightness pooling in your stomach as he pounded into you, you tried to warn him but before you could your eyes squeezed shut, body glitching against him as your orgasm washed over you, scratching harshly at his back. charlie bit down on your shoulder as his cum shot into you, thrusts turning sloppy. his chest heaved against yours as he pulled out, quickly moving your panties aside, ensuring no drips of his cum slipped out. his lips crashed onto yours, tongue slipping into your mouth with force, before pulling away, his hand slipped between your legs, patting your soaking cunt roughly,

“happy valentine’s day.” charlie snickered, his lips pressing against yours once more.

𐑺 rini’s note ; omg yall dont hate me !! so erm—first im so sorry this literally sucks ass bc i changed my whole idea last min bc it wasn’t going how i wanted 🫠 so pulled this out my ass so late and yeah…. excuse potential typos js had to get ts out ahh lygs

[crtakespropogandist]

CR 3 finale dump pt. 3 - Putting my finger on it

I enjoyed the campaign while I was watching it for the most part, because the cast's antics and chemistry always make me smile. But I invariably engaged the most during the tie-ins and cameos bringing back the PCs and NPCs from previous campaigns, and I couldn't summon the same investment for this one. I was ruminating on why that was, and here is what I came up with:

Campaign 3 didn't "work" like the other two because the characters, the plot, and the setting were not integrated. Matt had an epic storyline in mind that could dramatically change Exandria. He also had two lovingly designed settings, Marquet and Ruidus, the fruits of great collaborative labor that he wanted to show off. Finally, he wanted to let his friends have total control in conceptualizing their characters. The result is that the players and Matt seemed really afraid of stepping on each other's (and the other creatives') toes, and the narrative hurt for it.

Character hooks led away from the plot and setting. Setting hooks led away from the plot and characters. Plot hooks led away from the setting and characters. The cast ultimately had to follow the plot, leaving PCs uninvested and locations underutilized along with all their resident NPCs. Freaking Vox Machina had stronger relationships with Marquesian NPCs.

Yet Matt was still discouraged from taking time away from exploring new places and meeting new people for a deeper dive on Delilah Briarwood. Why didn't Ludinus give Tal'Dorei a heads up when the Briarwoods became fugitives? Did he help them in exchange for residuum? Did they steal his obsessive research on the Matron's ritual for Vecna to use? Maybe Jiana Hexum knows something abou...oop BH left Jrusar and forgot all about her. Matt was also discouraged from leaving shiny new Marquet any earlier for Aeor 2: Electric Boogaloo, which left FCG high and dry. The self-imposed balance between the three key story elements was impossible to maintain in a satisfactory way.

VM and M9 are native to their campaigns' respective continents (except my boy Tary ofc), and the plot evolved organically from personal stakes intrinsic to those settings. Moments like "I am no friend to the empire" and "It's Lady Vex'ahlia" are off the table when the party is Oops! All Transients. The worst irony is that Matt undermined the players' autonomy by unilaterally deciding that Caleb and Beau utterly fumbled the task Liam and Marisha set them to in their C2 epilogues. Liam's frustration at the Key scene was palpable. My fellow viewers who only hopped aboard on Campaign 3 can get weirdly defensive against C2's "encroachment" and C2 enjoyers (also fellows of mine) wishing it would "encroach" more. Ludinus was introduced in C2. The ruins of Aeor and Molaesmyr are in Wildmount. Dunamancy is centralized in Wildmount. The Nein spent time in Aeor, in Uthodurn, in the Dynasty. The Nein have gods. What experiments did Ludinus conduct in Vergessen? What are the specifics about what Ludinus did in Molaesmyr, what he's done throughout his life of scheming? It's pretty safe to guess that the Nein would have found out given another chance. Could you imagine how Campaign 2 might have panned out if Beau and Caleb reeeaaally grilled Demid Sunlash and followed up on where he went? (Also Ruidusborn!Essek would have made so much sense I'm vibrating) (Also also d'ya think Eadwulf was always supposed to be a real Matron follower, or could he have been set up as a Paragon's Call/Vanguard type reporting to Ludinus?)

The Mighty Nein are a party with a collective INT that blows BH out of the water. Even as someone introduced to the stream via BH, I can't help but agree with Beau's "Why not us?" comments. Why not give the Wildmount party the Wildmount BBEG? Why not give Bell's Hells the kind of story that encourages them to be little NPC-coded freaks pushing each other's big red buttons just to see what happens? Why not give Marquet a party that calls it home?

The answer is because we got this instead, and I'm kinda sad about it. If BH gets animated, that show is a lost cause if some fundamental changes aren't made.

[ofgrenvde]

Her directness kept pulling him in deeper, past all the careful defenses he'd built. Perfect match? The thought should have sent him running, yet it made him want to lean in closer. Her comment about fate had him fighting back a grin—she had no idea how many times he'd deliberately positioned himself to create those "chance" encounters. The way she handled the conspiracy angle fascinated him. Most people either dismissed it entirely or went full tinfoil hat. But she walked that line with practiced ease, like someone who knew exactly which parts were true. "Not all money is clean money" hit closer to home than she realized. The casinos laundered enough dirty cash to fill an ocean, and here she was, casually dropping truth bombs like they were discussing the weather. Her cunning smile told him she knew exactly what game they were playing. When she called him out about finding her suspicious, his mind raced through all the surveillance footage he'd reviewed of her casino visits. She moved like someone who understood security systems, always staying just outside camera angles while appearing completely natural. "You caught me there. But in my defense, you do have an interesting way of conducting business." The real question was whether she'd figured out how much he actually knew about her operations.

An audible gasp escaped when she mocked his open book comment. She had him there—transparency wasn't exactly his strong suit these days. The real question was why he kept letting her push past his carefully constructed walls. Maybe because for the first time since Chicago, someone saw through the act without trying to tear it down completely. Or maybe he was just tired of keeping everyone at arm's length. Her challenge about finding out what he wanted sparked something dangerous in him—a desire to show her exactly how much he'd been holding back. But old habits died hard, and complete honesty wasn't a luxury he could afford, not with the shadows still chasing him. Still, he found himself wanting to give her more than the usual deflections. "I guess I'll just have to keep sharing meals with you. What better way to get to know each other, right?" This was some dangerous game he was playing.

The smart move would be backing off before this got complicated. Instead, he found himself drawn deeper into her orbit. She represented everything he should avoid, sharp insights that cut too close to home, questions that probed his carefully maintained façade, and an uncanny ability to make him want to lower his guard. Yet here he was, actually considering letting someone past his defenses for the first time since Chicago. The truly dangerous part wasn't that she might be playing him—it was that he found himself hoping she wasn't.

Cynthia wondered if Ezra would ever break, but doubts began to set in as he was consistently and effortlessly keeping up with her. She really wanted to know if he was doing this because he was interested in her or was he doing this all for information. Surprisingly, her gut was telling her it wasn’t the latter, especially with how authentic she was being in this dynamic, she believed he was doing the same. However, that tiny voice in her head that was trying to protect her, was overall doing their best to be the voice of reason and so, she had to reconsider the opposite as well. “Then we’re a perfect match.” she concluded with a nonchalant shrug. “It now makes sense why fate has us always stumbling into each other. Your loss if you don’t take me up.” 

With her current career and alliance, it’s a no brainer for Cynthia to be aware of the true Devil’s Junction. Majority of the conspiracy theories were either known or done by her and the Onyx Circuit, but she wasn’t going to downright admit that, especially the latter. Instead, she kept it high level, if he’s going to keep her guessing then she might as well mirror Ezra’s behaviour. “Not all money is clean money.” she concluded and with that, she reached her glass to conduct a fake toast and downed the rest of her wine before breaking out into a cunning smile. Will he be revealing his truth? She could only hope and would rely heavily on whatever patience she had left. 

Once Ezra responded to what he did for a living, the assassin started piecing together everything she knew about him up until now. It all started to make sense why he is the way he is, from being observant, the attention to detail and being standoffish. Perhaps she’d been made given that she’d been hanging around the casinos here and there, but in her defence it dealt with money, more importantly her clients’ money. Boy, did this get even more complicated. “How fitting. So I’m assuming you found me suspicious?” she mused. “You’re a poor liar though, ‘always been an open book’ my ass. It's more like pulling teeth when it comes to learning about you.” When Ezra spoke about what he wanted from her, the cliché answer had her laughing as she shook her head in disbelief, "And how will I find out?" she asked.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Oh mother, tell your children Not to do what I have done Spend your lives in sin and misery In the house of The Rising Sun

[nthflower]

Look I am a X-Men fan and also I am super critical of many X-Men things if you know me etc etc but how some people talk about how bad mutant metaphor is in Reddit it feels sometimes less like criticism but more like idk icky.

Like okay you hate mutants because they are smug and victim complexing assholes okay understandable I guess stop being uncomfortably weird tho. You act like they are fucking real people who fucked your wife pissed your shoes, not badly written characters by so many writers it not even cohesive anymore.

[harmonizewithechoes]

.

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

Welp, when I said kill all rapists before I was kind of imagining her killing herself. Me thinking about killing her was just a fantasy to make me feel better. But now I know that one day, I'll kill her, and maybe someone who needs a little push in the right direction will hear about it and will kill their rapist, too. Repeat cycle.

Make rapists afraid again.

[devils-yui]

Reposting this from a friend bc I think it is VERY important to know of this, and for immigrants, and other possible victims of the ICE Raids happening right now

Here’s to also a very huge edit, from the list of very helpful people who have been reblogging and providing more info.

I’m not as well informed but I will be relaying the information and tagging each person who added onto this post:

@onthedriftinthetardis -

The phone number in the first photo is ONLY for Orange County, California!

Look up your local ACLU affiliate here

@6feetunderwater -

It always makes me nervous to see a reporting phone number passed around without any links to verify it, so the number in the first pic can be found on the site for the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which is "an interconnected system of non-profit and grassroots organizations, civil rights attorneys, law school clinics, and individuals working together to respond to dehumanizing immigration enforcement activities and policies in Orange County"

@geekerypeekery -

The second warrant is not fake, but is an administrative rather than judicial warrant, and has no constitutional authority to bypass Fourth Amendment protections - in other words, it does not entitle the bearer to enter and search your home. It simply authorizes agents of the issuing department to contact you. Always ask to see the warrant before opening your door!

In addition to the ACLU links, try contacting the National Immigration Law Center https://www.nilc.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Warrants-Subpoenas-Facts.pdf

@american-anger -

The phone number listed here is specific to Orange County in California, but you can look up other California counties here:

CALIFORNIA RAPID RESPONSE NETWORKS

@beaniebaneenie -

Unpleasant reminder: within 100 miles of the border (which is home to 200 million people and virtually all major cities in the US), ICE does not need a warrant to enter your home, your car, to search anything, or even to arrest you.

You are not automatically safe just because they don't have a real warrant.

The best and safest thing you can do is learn to have escape routes- quick ways to get out of the house or area you're in if you find out ICE or CBP are around. Those of us who do have documentation? Time for us to step the fuck up.

Film any interaction. Every interaction. If you're able, step into the conversation and be a Karen/Kyle- weaponize your privilege for Good. If you get asked about people? Use positive but vague statements so you a) cannot be caught in a lie, and b) do not give any information away.

"I don't know them that well, but I don't tend to socialize much. They seem great to me."

"I can't remember the last time I saw them."

"Maybe they speak another language, I can't remember details. But I picked up Duolingo during the pandemic and tons of other people did too."

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Even if you're somewhere the 100-mile Exception doesn't apply and a warrant is in fact needed? I don't expect ICE and CBP to play by the rules for long, if at all. I fully expect this to get ugly, and fast.

Cheeto has already declared an emergency of national security at the border, and is mobilizing the military to have jurisdiction over a huge swath of the country. It's essentially tantamount to martial law. And it's only been four days.

Gear up for a long, hard fight. This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.

— I am leaving all of this as an edit because on the off chance someone does find the posts that have these people specifically reblogging, I don’t want it to be too late. So I’m comprising it all here

Here are a few other people’s reblogs I thought were important:

Thank you @onthedriftinthetardis @6feetunderwater @geekerypeekery @american-anger @beaniebaneenie @bunnychiffon @dubiouslynamed @trisockatops @witchy-disaster for contributing and helping me make this a more well-informed post. Thank you so much

[gu6chan]

i fucking hate american """left-wingers""" man

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Leona Kingscholar

Cliché: Misplaced Jealousy

Others: Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

it's gonna be a little series where each of them gets a cliché!

For days now, Leona had been simmering. He’d never admit to caring about something so trivial, but that simmer was rapidly reaching a boil, one muttered “Savanaclaw guy” at a time. Because you—his supposed close friend, the only person he could actually stand around here—had developed some grand crush on… someone. Someone you kept bringing up. Some unknown, nameless, faceless moron in Savanaclaw.

And you just wouldn’t shut up about him.

Leona had been sitting through your monologues, listening to you talk about how strong and loyal and amazing this guy was, and it had started as a minor annoyance. But as you kept going, he realized something deeply frustrating—maybe even painful.

That after everything, you had gone and chosen some other Savanaclaw idiot over him. And it stung, more than he’d ever want to admit, to hear you talking about anyone like this.

But today was the breaking point.

You were lounging in his den, casually chatting with him between classes. As usual, the conversation took a familiar turn, and you sighed dramatically. “I mean, I guess it’s just… this guy, he’s just… I don’t know. He’s got this strength that’s so impressive, and he always knows how to take charge. Like, he doesn’t even need to try, you know? It’s like he was born to lead.” You didn’t notice Leona’s eyes darken or the way his fingers clenched into fists.

“Just the way he’s so confident,” you continued, “he’s got this whole ‘I don’t care about anything’ vibe that’s really charming in a weird way. It’s like he’s always one step ahead of everyone, even when he’s—”

Leona cut you off with a harsh scoff. “Right. Real inspiring. Sounds like a real prize,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “And I bet he doesn’t even realize how perfect he is, right?”

“Exactly! He’s the type who’s always underestimated,” you continued, oblivious to the thunderous look on Leona’s face. “But if people would just give him a chance, they’d see all his best qualities. He’s fierce, but he’s got this heart of gold underneath it all. People just don’t get him.”

“Oh, don’t they?” Leona’s voice was low and strained, a bitter edge cutting through his usual drawl. “Must be nice to be so adored by someone.”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t say it like that. He doesn’t even know I like him. I don’t even know if he’d ever see me like that.” You let out a wistful sigh that was like a slap to his face.

Leona’s patience finally snapped. “Unbelievable,” he snarled, standing up so fast that you jumped. “You’re completely clueless.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Clueless? Leona, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you,” he bit out, eyes blazing. “You’re here—wasting your time on someone who probably doesn’t even care about you while you throw yourself at him like some kind of fool. I mean, what’s it gonna take for you to get it?”

You were stunned into silence, and he kept going, frustration pouring out in a way that you’d never seen before. “After everything, you go and pick someone else?” His voice cracked a little, and it made your heart ache. “I thought maybe… maybe if there was anyone here you’d choose, it would be me.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You were utterly bewildered. “Leona… what are you talking about? It has always been you.”

He blinked, staring at you, completely thrown. “What?”

You took a step closer to him, speaking slowly, trying to get through his thick skull. “Leona, all that stuff I’ve been saying—every time I was talking about this person I liked, I was talking about you.”

Leona looked like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt. His mouth fell open slightly, and he was struggling to catch up, his usual composure completely shattered. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Yes! Why else would I even talk about Savanaclaw so much?” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You were the one who kept assuming it was someone else.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you saw a raw vulnerability in his eyes that he usually kept hidden. “All this time… I really thought you’d gone and chosen some other guy,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Thought at least you’d pick me.”

The way he said it made your heart break a little. He looked almost small, like the thought of not being chosen had left him gutted in a way he couldn’t fully hide. You reached out, gently taking his hand. “Leona, it’s always been you. You’re the one I’ve been drawn to from the start.”

A surge of relief softened his features, and he gave a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle. His usual swagger returned, just a bit, as he held your hand tighter. “Well,” he murmured, his gaze becoming intense, “then what’re you waiting for?”

You didn’t waste another second. You closed the space between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that was long overdue. He responded immediately, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. The kiss was fierce, almost possessive, and when he finally broke away, he was wearing a smug, satisfied grin.

“About damn time,” he murmured against your lips, though there was a warmth in his voice that softened the usual sharpness. He looked down at you, his fingers grazing your cheek with an unexpected tenderness. “Next time, just skip all the theatrics and tell me, alright?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch. “I thought I was being obvious.”

“Obvious?” He huffed, rolling his eyes with a faint smile. “Trust me, you’re terrible at ‘obvious.’”

But as he gazed at you, that smirk melted into something genuine, something that showed how deeply he cared. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… you’re really mine, then?”

You nodded, and he let out a pleased sigh, holding you even tighter. “Good,” he said, his voice low and possessive, like he was finally claiming what was his. “Now let’s ditch these losers. We don’t need anyone else, just us.”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as his hand gently stroked your back. “Fine by me,” you murmured, happiness bubbling up as you pressed small kisses along his jawline, making him chuckle.

For once, Leona didn’t have any sharp retorts, no scowls or walls to put up. He just held you, his heart finally at ease, the weight of his doubts and insecurities melting away as he finally let himself be happy.

Masterlist

[thelostconsultant]

Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that. 

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him. 

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head. 

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help. 

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse. 

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh. 

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean. 

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

view all comments

user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

[hyhkai]

camboy! | c.yj.

[ 🎥 ] — after yeonjun's rise in the porn industry, an interview was something he agreed to for fun. however, after he saw you, the interviewer, he wished it was a fake interview where he gets to fuck you.

cw : pornstar!yeonjun. unedited word vomit fictional magazine company that apparently also exists in real life.

a/n ; i apologize for my sins i swear I'll change 🙏🏼 and this is a drabble, not a fic! i might turn it into one over time ♡

after you reached out to him a few weeks ago with greetings and compliments, and asking can I interview you some time? I'd like to know what it's like to be a person who earns through the adult industry, and with your fame, I know that you're just the right person., his first, honest reaction was to laugh. i mean, seriously?

he was laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being interviewed. i mean, who was willing enough to take out time of their busy, hectic schedule to interview a man who earns bread by having a dildo inside of him? he had to know. he wanted to know what this person was like.

he did think that this could be completely false and you could be a potential threat, trying to lure him into your little cage with cheese like he's a fucking rat, capture him and do bad things to him like he'd heard with various nefarious acts of people against people with 'easy' fame.

"can I get proof that you're actually an interviewer?"

to which he immediately got a response with a photo of a xerox copy of your identification document, namely at a popular company called mode de vie. he could see the black and white ink that framed the photo stuck on the top right corner, and he knew that he had to see that fucking face in real life. if that's how you look in a awfully captured picture, so captivating, bold, and confidence outlining your eyes in the form of sharp eyeliner, he had to see that face in front of him, asking him questions about his body count or something else he doesn't give two shits about.

he'd said sure to your offer almost immediately now that he saw that it was a real interviewer after him. and now that it was time, he drove to the place where you both agreed to be at — a café which was relatively close to his house and your office.

"I'm glad you came!" you said as you shook his hand that would eventually get sweaty from just sitting opposite to you. what the fuck? he seriously considered telling you to quit this stupid, serious job and just join him in his public sex life. you were stunning.

now that he saw your hair open, framing your face, and that fucking sharp-ass eyeliner, he was mad that he didn't dress up nicely and instead came in a hoodie. who wants to miss a chance of getting a baddie?

he thanked the lords he'd long forgotten when you told him this is just an audio based interview which will later be turned into a text format.

while you continued asking him questions about everything, from "fuck-a-fan" to "how did your mother find out?", he'd needed to ask you to repeat your questions several times. his eyes kept drifting down, down to your chest.

'why the fuck are you wearing a top so low-cut? is it to provoke me or something?' he'd think. he legitimately wants to put his hand on the table, pushing himself towards you and grabbing one of your tits. it's pissing him off he can't.

okay, so maybe he was a pervert like one of his friends liked to say. but it wasn't his fault when you were asking him questions about his sex life while looking at him with those eyes that were possibly tearing his clothes off.

in his world, that is.

'do you want to fuck me too, or am I trippin'?'

he knew he had to keep his filthy hands, his filthy thoughts, to himself. c'mon, it's a fucking interview, yeonjun. grow up. you've had plenty of girls and guys to fuck in your life. from small and petite, to taller than you. from fucking someone to getting fucked. you've done it all. why are you so captivated by this woman?

maybe it was the way you had your makeup done that had him wishing he could see it smeared all over with a new makeup product; his cum, or maybe it was your tits that were practically begging to be the thing he shoves his face in tonight. but no, it was the way you carried yourself.

there was this... this aura, this radiation of confidence that was magnetic enough for him to be pulled to you.

under the table, he was practically going to rub one out. he kept adjusting his pants, kept palming his dick that was straining against his pants and standing up against his thoughts of not fucking you ever.

ugh, just how fucking good you'd look on his bed, and he swears he could go above his rounds per fucking streak of 4 with you; from classic missionary to the amazon position, from sixty-nine to his foot on your face while he fucked your ass from the back. fuck, he'd even let you peg him, something he's always refused to do.

just how good you'd look while sliding your strap-on inside of him, his eyes going wide, as well as your smile at the sight of his pretty face. he thinks you'd like some crazy songs playing in the background, similar to the vibe of playboi carti.

fuck, he'd hold onto your tits for support, comfort, for just the fucks of it no matter who is topping.

"um, excuse me?" you asked when he spaced out in the middle.

"yeah?" he said, looking up from the table where both of your milkshakes resided.

"thank you for the interview. i appreciate it a lot!" you said, smiling at him, completely unaware of the junk he had in his brain about you. you put out your hand for a friendly yet professional handshake.

"oh, yeah, of course." he muttered out, responding to your hand with his that was definitely sweaty.

as you closed your notepad and stopped the recording, he looked up at your face finally.

"can I ask you a question too?"

"oh, yes, of course." you said, looking up at him with a face of genuine curiosity. maybe it would be something like —

"when will this be posted?"

"where can I read it?"

"will there be a hardcopy?"

"would you ever fuck me if you could?"

and suddenly, this was the first time you regretted not recording the aftermath of an interview.