Title: Chocolate Love
Fandom: Girls' Generation
Characters/Pairing: The closest approximation I can give is S♥NE/SNSD. It'll make sense when you read it.
Genre: General, somewhat cracky too actually.
Summary: A S♥NE's reaction to the Chocolate Love MV.
A/N: This began as a pedo-off between snsdgo and me, needless to say he won. This is very different to anything I've written, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.
Chocolate is always an experience to be savoured. From the first slither of foil that is teared off to expose those luscious slabs of dark sin to the sensation of cream silk running down your throat, every moment is a memorable one. Just one delectable square is all it takes to satisfy every human craving.
Well. Nearly every craving.
But yes, ah, imagine if you will, nine girls. Nine impossibly beautiful girls. All with their eyes and their bodies set on you. And of course, what else would they be dressed in but the most impeccable of packaging – miles upon miles of pure white. A sea of ivory lace. The picture of innocent virginity incarnate. Just waiting to be tasted.
They're wearing high turtle necks tied with a black ribbon collar that trails down the modest dress, a natural guide for the eye downwards. And it is downward that your gaze drops, and it is downward where your eyes find heaven. For the skirt stops far too quickly for this dress to be called modest, and that stolen glimpse of an endless length of satin leg is almost too much to handle.
So your eyes jump back up. You feel almost guilty for that furtive look. You feel almost as if you've taken advantage of these sweet, innocent girls who couldn't possibly know or even guess the direction your thoughts were heading into. But even before you've had time to catch your breath there's a curl of hair that is crying out for your attention. A shining, glistening, glossy lock of hair that's escaped from its confines and is now curling invitingly over a curved shoulder which is encased in snow.
But before you can reach out and touch it, as that particular curl is begging you too, you are once again distracted. This time by the tantalising flash of bare skin. Then by the brush of a feather.
A finger rises to caress the velvet of lips. The eyelashes flutter. The eyelids begin to drift shut with a lust inspired heaviness. The crease of fabric down the chest. An intake of air. An exhale of a heartbeat. A flash of the forbidden.
Then you drop down dead cause you know your head just exploded when you saw SNSD being too sexy to be legal.