#How To Create The Perfect Outfit

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

here's part 7! hope you guys enjoy! part 8 will be uploaded tomorrow!

(p.s my headcanon explainations are in the tags if you're curious)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 8

there's a masterlist now!

*after everyone had gone inside, telemachus left to go to his room to change while penelope and odysseus headed to theirs*

*penelope had help getting changed/ready from her handmaiden, however odysseus doesn’t start changing, instead he’s just sitting on a lounge chair looking out the window at the sun setting*

penelope: *now ready for the evening*

penelope: *to her handmaiden* thank you for your help. 

penelope: *smiles as she’s walking to the bedroom door with her* 

penelope: *remembers something* oh! please let the others know to make sure you all grab yourself enough to eat after all the hard work the past couple of days! or take some of the remaining fish & meat home to your families!

penelope: *waves goodbye as her handmaiden leaves the room*

penelope: *closes the door and turns to face odysseus*

odysseus: *still staring out the window*

penelope: odysseus?

odysseus: *no response*

penelope: *understands he doesn’t mean to ignore her* 

penelope: *slowly walks towards him* my love, it's just you and i now

odysseus: *finally realises penelope was calling out to him* 

odysseus: *turns his head to her* i’m sorry penelope

odysseus: *looks her up and down, always amazed by the beauty of his wife*

penelope: *giggles as she see the lovestruck look on odysseus face*

penelope: *stops just in front of him and twirls around*

penelope: see something you like?

odysseus: *standing up and pulls her into him by her waist* 

odysseus: always *goes in for a kiss*

penelope: *accepts the kiss*

penelope: *giggles when odysseus keeps planting kisses all over her face*

penelope: my dear husband, stop distracting me! 

penelope: it’s time for you to get ready.

odysseus: *stops the kisses and looks down and sighs*

penelope: *cups his cheek with her hand and turns his face back to hers* 

penelope: you know i’m not going to force you to wear anything you don’t want to, right?

odysseus: *leans into her hand* i know, i know…

odysseus: it’s so silly of me isn’t, it’s just clothing-

penelope: *now holding his face with both her hands* nothing is silly, not if it makes you uncomfortable my love

odysseus: *smiles* i love you

penelope: *smiles back* i love you too

penelope: *lets his face go* now, what would you like to wear tonight? 

odysseus: *looking at the tyrian purple pelops she's wearing* i would like to match my beautiful wife

penelope: *knows she had a chiton made for him at the same time she had her pelops made* ok, let's get you matching then

*once odysseus is ready, him and penelope leave their room and make their way to the palace entrance ready to greet their dinner guests*

*when they arrive, they see telemachus; who is dressed in more ‘princely’ attire than his usual day-to-day clothing, talking to athena who arrived not long ago*

telemachus: oh! mother, father, you're ready!

athena: *turning to them*

athena: *smiling* good evening

penelope: *smiles back* good evening lady athena

athena: please penelope, i think we’ve known each other long enough… especially after everything in the past year

athena: just athena is fine

penelope: *smiles* sure…athena

odysseus: *looking at athena* 

odysseus: it’s still so weird not seeing you in all your armour

athena: *laughs* well i thought the occasion didn’t require it

*the four of them continue talking for a little bit*

athena: i see that my uncle hasn’t arrived yet.

telemachus: *turns to his father* you told him it was tonight right?

odysseus: *nods* i did

odysseus: *thinks for moment and sighs* 

odysseus: he’s not going to come to this entrance… but i know where he’ll be

athena: i’ll go with you to get him

telemachus: me too!

penelope: *laughs* well i guess i might as well join too

odysseus: let’s go then

*they all head in the direction of the entrance for the palace gardens*

odysseus: *stops them before they all head outside* ok maybe we don’t all need to go down to the sea

odysseus: i’ll go meet him and we’ll both join you shortly

*telemachus, penelope and athena wait by the entrance talking amongst themselves, while odysseus makes his way down to the palace cove*

*odysseus arrives at the cove when he sees poseidon making his way out of the water*

poseidon: *sees odysseus* 

poseidon: king of ithaca

odysseus: *deadpan expression* poseidon.

poseidon: *rolls his eyes at odysseus, for the clear lack of title for him*

odysseus: the others are waiting, shall we get going?

poseidon: *about to agree when he remembers about the arrow*

poseidon: wai- uh i mean, i have a question before we leave…

odysseus: *eyebrow raised* 

poseidon: you're not… i don’t know, mad or angry with me or the sea’s inhabitants by any chance?

odysseus: huh?

poseidon: *pinches the bridge of his nose* has the sea or i, done anything to offend you in the past day?

odysseus: *now confused* no?

poseidon: *drops his hand from his face and then points at odysseus* then why did you shoot me?!

odysseus: *even more confused* shoot yo- whAT?

poseidon: *reaches into his chiton and pulls out the arrow he kept there* 

poseidon: *shows the arrow to odysseus* please tell me then, what have i done that's got you shooting arrows at the sea?

odysseus: *looking at the arrow, then up to poseidon* i've not shot any arrows at the sea? 

odysseus: also, who shoots arrows into the sea?!

poseidon: *hands up in the air in agreement, the arrow being thrown behind him* 

poseidon: that's what i said! but who else would it be? it hit the waters of this cove, so unless-

odysseus: *suddenly realises where the arrow has come from*

odysseus: *starts laughing*

poseidon: *brings his hands down and narrows his eyes at odysseus* what is so funny?

odysseus: *wiping a tear away from his eye from laughing so much* my son

poseidon: *now his turn to be confused* huh?

odysseus: *having collected himself * my son, he shot the arrow during archery practice

poseidon: *eyebrow raised* and you're teaching your son to shoot the sea… because?

odysseus: *rolls his eyes* it was an accident, my wife startled him and he misfired. 

odysseus: *lets out a tiny chuckle* i can’t believe it made its way to the sea though 

poseidon: oh

odysseus: yeah ‘oh’ 

odysseus: why would you think i’d shoot the sea anyway? 

poseidon: *arms now crossed and looking away from odysseus* 

poseidon: who knows with you…

odysseus : *smirking* oh poseidon…i’d just use other ways to get your attention

poseidon: *whips his head back to odysseus* 

poseidon: *sees odysseus’ shit-eating grin*

poseidon: oh be quiet… what if i arrived early? 

poseidon: *points at himself* i could have been hit!

odysseus: *snorts* oh please… an single arrow wouldn't kill you

odysseus: besides we both know you've been impaled with worse

odysseus: *turns to head back up to the palace* anyways, let's head up to the others

poseidon: *realising what odysseus said* wait-

poseidon: odysseus of ithaca!

odysseus: *just keeps walking ignoring poseidon’s outburst*

poseidon: *grumbles under his breath but swiftly walks to catch up odysseus* 

*odysseus & poseidon make their way to the palace garden entrance where now only athena is waiting*

odysseus: *looking to athena* where-

athena: *already knows what odysseus is going to ask* they headed to the dining hall.

athena: telemachus wanted to check some final things and penelope left to accompany him.

odysseus: *nods at her explanation*

athena: *turns to look at poseidon*

athena: *nods head at poseidon* uncle

poseidon: *blank look on his face* athena.

athena: *now looking at her nails* not seen you since you were up on olympus in apollo’s infirmary…

athena: *looks back at poseidon and grins* speaking of which… how’s your chest?

poseidon: *scoffs and crosses his arms* fine.

poseidon: *suddenly smirks back* need i remind you that you were also there for a similar  reason…how’s your face?

athena: *grin has left her face and now narrows her eyes at poseidon*

odysseus: *not wanting to deal with two bickering gods* 

odysseus: *sighs*

odysseus: *claps his hands together sharply* OK! how about we don’t fight in my palace, yeah?

odysseus: besides, telemachus has been extremely excited about tonight’s dinner, so i do not want anything ruining it…

odysseus: *makes sure to look at both of them*

odysseus: *red eyes appear & disappear in the blink of an eye*

odysseus: got it?

athena: *now semi-understands why poseidon listened to odysseus ‘requests’* uh-

poseidon: *putting an arm around athena’s shoulders* yep, no arguing here!

poseidon: *turns his head towards athena* isn’t that right my dear niece?

athena: *stares at poseidon in disbelief at the words ‘dear niece’*

athena: *turns to odysseus* you can’t be seri-

odysseus: *raises his eyebrow*

athena: *sighs* sure, no fighting in the palace

odysseus: *smiles* good. now i know you know where the dining hall is located athena, but poseidon doesn’t.

odysseus: so, if you’ll both please follow me.

odysseus: *starts walking down the hall*

athena: *shrugs poseidon’s arm off in disgust and follows odysseus*

poseidon: *sighs and also follows odysseus*

[violettierre]

Society has fallen down ever since Shio stopped making an appearance in chapters.

[sysig]

Oh getting very close now, villainy feels right around the corner (Patreon)

[harrylights]

.

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Kitten

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Lee Know x fem!reader

Summary: Leeknow loves showing his Favourite Girl who she belongs to.

Warnings: Luxury ownership. Designer collars. ehehehe minho being sexy

A/N: Leeknow arrived to the spoiled series… Han and Changbin are next, don‘t worry my kittens <3

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Changbin ୨ৎ Han

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Minho didn’t do flashy.

He didn’t need to. He did exclusive.

Her Gucci collection didn’t come from store shelves.

It came from private appointments, whispered calls, and sketches sent to his inbox for approval. Each one designed with her in mind.

A velvet handbag dyed to match the flush on her cheeks when she came for him.

A pair of gold heels engraved with his initials under the sole, so she’d always have him beneath her.

A perfume created by the Gucci lab with notes of peach nectar and white musk — he named it “Mine.”

“I want her to smell like she belongs to me,” he’d told them. “And something sweet. She is sweet.”

He never let her see the invoices.

She didn’t need to.

He’d slide rings onto her fingers mid-conversation, like it was nothing.

Fold jackets over her shoulders in rooms that weren’t cold, just to see her wear his name.

And when Gucci sent over a mini-dress designed for events — deep green silk, bare-backed, dripping with subtle crystals — he only had one response:

“She’ll wear it at home. No one else gets to see her in that.”

And she did.

In their bedroom.

With nothing underneath but a thong he bought to match.

────୨ৎ────

He once got her a travel bag.

Cream leather, soft as sin. Her initials embossed in rose gold on the side.

She laughed. “I don’t travel enough to need this.”

“You will,” he said, zipping it open. “Check the inside.”

She did.

It was packed.

With envelopes.

Each one labeled in his neat, sharp handwriting:

• Paris – for the kiss on the Seine.

• Tokyo – for the night we stay in.

• Milan – for the Gucci headquarters. I want them to see how perfect you are in person.

He’d planned it all. First class, black cars, suites with balconies — and a new outfit for each destination, custom-tailored to her measurements.

“Minho,” she whispered, teary-eyed.

He only smiled, pulling her into his lap. “Told you. You don’t lift a finger unless it’s to touch me.”

And she did.

────୨ৎ────

He swore he just came for a wallet.

Simple. Clean. Black leather, nothing flashy — just something to replace the worn one he’d been using for three years.

But the second she sighed, it was over.

Minho followed her gaze without a word.

The bag was a soft cream Gucci Jackie — butter leather and gold hardware. She didn’t even say anything, just looked once and turned away like it was nothing.

Like she didn’t know he noticed.

He tapped the glass counter lazily. “We’ll take the bag too.”

The cashier brightened. “Anything else? It comes in a set with three—”

“Yes,” he cut in. Didn’t even let her finish.

His Girl turned, eyes wide. “Wait—”

“Choose the other bags,” he said simply, leaning back on the counter. “Whatever you want, kitten.”

The cashier smiled. “Follow me, Miss.”

This wasn’t the first time. Not with Minho.

Her collection was ridiculous by now, a full spectrum of spoiling.

Minho never blinked. Never asked twice.

He just gave.

Like the day he came home with a little velvet box and pulled out a diamond collar.

Not a choker. Not jewelry.

A collar — dainty but unmistakable. With his name engraved in cursive at the center, studded with tiny black diamonds.

“Come here,” he’d said that night, low and calm, snapping it around her throat.

“Now everyone knows who my kitten is, right?”

He’d tilted her chin up, kissed her mouth softly.

And then ruined her on the floor like she was made to be taken with his name glittering at her neck.

God, he loved how it looked when she went down on him like that.

Diamond collar catching the light. Tears sparkling on her cheeks. His hand fisted in her hair while she gagged so sweetly around him.

“Mine,” he’d growled, hips thrusting deeper, “look how fucking pretty my girl is like this.”

Minho didn’t just spoil. He claimed.

────୨ৎ────

He cooked for her like it was sacred.

Wouldn’t let her near a single knife or pan. Just sat her on the counter, fed her from the spoon, kissed her when she whined.

“Let me help—”

“No.”

“But—”

“No, kitten. Sit there and look pretty.”

He’d press kisses to her knee. Sometimes he’d undo the straps of her dress and fuck her right there against the fridge before the water even boiled. He liked to see her tits bounce.

She was soft. Sweet. So good for him.

And he?

He was everything. Rich, controlled, a little dangerous — but hers.

────୨ৎ────

It wasn’t supposed to be used like this.

The scarf had been a gift — crimson silk, embroidered with tiny cats and cherries, a nod to her two favorite things. He’d tied it gently around her neck when he first gave it to her, pressing a kiss just beneath the knot.

But now, it was wet with spit and stuffed between her lips.

“Shhh, baby,” Minho cooed, thumbing away a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re being so good for me, aren’t you?”

She whimpered, breath catching as he thrust deeper — slow, thick strokes that made her toes curl.

He was behind her, one hand fisted in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back, keeping her arched just the way he liked.

The scarf fluttered with every moan she choked on. Her Gucci gift — now her gag — pressed into her tongue like another brand of ownership.

And he loved it.

Loved seeing her spoiled and ruined, all at once.

A trembling doll made just for him.

“I should buy you another,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “One for every time I make you cry on my cock.”

He pulled back slightly, admiring the string of saliva that connected them to the scarf.

“Maybe one for every orgasm too. Hm?”

She could only sob in response, her walls fluttering around him like she was already saying yes.

────୨ৎ────

Minho had one room in their house locked.

She wasn’t supposed to go in.

But she peeked anyway, one day when he was gone for schedules.

What she found was a vault.

Dozens of boxes. Wrapped. Labeled.

Gucci. Cartier. Loewe. Rare editions. Archived pieces.

All neatly stacked, waiting for the right moment.

Shoes she hadn’t worn yet.

Dresses he never let her even see.

She was still standing there, stunned, when he walked in.

Caught red-handed.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue. “Curious kitten.”

Before she could apologize, he was already lifting her.

He sat her down — right on top of the stacked boxes. Velvet, silk, leather beneath her thighs.

She gasped.

“Since you’re up here,” he said, pushing her skirt up with slow fingers, “might as well give you a reason to come back.”

Her back hit the wall of the closet. He slid in without warning, one hand around her throat, his other gripping her thigh.

“Every one of these gifts,” he grunted against her ear, “is yours. But I’m your favorite, right?”

She nodded desperately, gasping against his mouth.

“Say it.”

“You,” she whimpered. “You’re my favorite gift.”

He smiled.

And made her scream that line three more times.

────୨ৎ────

But oh — she was in love with him. Not just the diamonds or the handbags or the silken scarf still damp with the memory of him.

No, she loved the way he looked at her when she was curled up on the couch in his hoodie, hair a mess, a cat asleep on each thigh.

She loved how he melted when she fed his babies before he even got the chance — Soonie, Doongie, and Dori happily flocking to her, as if she’d always belonged.

And he did too.

Some nights, he came home exhausted. His limbs heavy from hours of practice, his voice hoarse, his energy drained. But then he opened the door — and there she was.

His girl. His home.

Bundled up in the blanket he always said was too warm, half-asleep, a drama playing on low volume, and the cats purring beside her like guardians.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

And he’d kneel at her feet, bury his face in her stomach, arms wrapped around her waist like a man starved.

“You stayed up?”

“Always.”

Because no matter how much he spoiled her — she was the one who gave him peace. Who gave him softness. Who never let him go to bed without a kiss, or leave the house without a snack.

He pressed his lips to hers, slow and sleepy.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever bought,” he teased, and she smacked his arm.

“I’m not for sale.”

“Exactly,” he murmured. “You’re priceless.”

And she was.

The one thing he couldn’t put in a shopping bag.

Only in his heart.

[rebelssvy]

roommates ✧.*

ushijima x reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: ushi is your roommate and saw your phone with porn on it. creating an interesting relationship with you two. sex, smut, porn

i added twt links bc why not just to make it juicer lol

the worst thing to ever possibly happen, happened. while getting some cereal at one a.m, you had been scrolling on your own personally private twitter account. do you have porn on there? yes. do you actually watch it? yes. did you mean to leave it open on the counter top? no. not at all.

so to your horror as you ran to the pantry for some more cereal, you came back to the kitchen to find your your roomate, ushijima, standing right above your phone.

the action of him ease dropping isn’t what got you, he often snoops around your shared apartment. it was the audio you heard coming from it that made you jump out of your skin.

in the dead quiet of your dimly litted apartment, the audio of a girl getting absolutely railed by a man echoed.

“oh my god!” you scrambled, running over to your phone you shut it off. then threw it across the room it landing on the couch.

your hands instantly found your face, everything was burning up. ushi was normally a kind of awkward guy. not ever really saying much and when he did, it was always just kind of awkward.

did this stop you from having a crush on him? of course not. how could it? he was fucking huge. his muscles could make you pop from a hug. and he was also caring. even if he stuggled showing it. so you had no idea how he was about to handle this.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed y/n.” his voice prodded through the silence. it was deep, hushed. it wasn’t until a hand found your back that you looked up to him.

“i’m so so so sorry ushi!” you said turning to face him, putting your hands on his chest and burrying your head into his pecks. being touchy with him wasn’t abnormal. he just never really reciprocated it. that didn’t bother you.

“i’m… i’m just gonna go to bed.” you said before leaving your cereal on the counter, grabbing your phone and walking away.

that night you slept in horror. praying that he wouldn’t move out because of the action.

that night ushijima was more sexually frustrated then he had ever been.

✧.*

the next day when you two were at dinner, he brought up the situation from last night.

“god.. you don’t have to try to make me feel better. just forget about it.” you stood shaking your head. you two were out at a random restaurant about to leave when he asked you about it. you really wished he could just forget.

“you know y/n.. everyone watches porn.” he said it casually. tone unwavering. your eyes darted to his, attempting to read his emotions. to which you were met with a straight face.

the rest of the night you kept thinking about what that meant. does the ushijima wakatoshi watch porn? no way. i mean… there is no way right? in your head he could never be tempted. he’s too idk. perfect.

those words haunted you until you got home. every moment of silence between you lead back to the mental image you created.

finally walking through the door you decided to bring it up with him. you just didn’t know how.

he waked to his bedroom as you made you way to the kitchen for a drink. “hey ushi..?” you called out. he only responded when he walked back in with a changed, more casual outfit.

“yes y/n?” he replied finding a spot on your shared couch. instantly stretching he made himself comfortable as he flexed his biceps ever so subtlety. your eyes wandered to wear his shirt poked up. a flips of his happy trail peaked out. “do you have a question?” he said. your eyes snapped back to his face. you only nodded in reply.

going and sitting down next to him, sitting cris cross legged. as he faced forward his head turned to you. you were close, but not as close as you wished you were. so you opted to scoot closer to him. one of your knees now touching his thigh.

“earlier, i just can’t get it out of my mind… you said yk ‘everyone watches porn.’… and i was just wondering if like.. excuse me if im over stepping here but, if you watched.. porn?” your skin felt hot. like you were burning up. after you said it you wished you could take it back.

there was a long pause, and you swore you died and came back to life. just as you were about to excuse yourself to suffer an eternity of embarrassment, he responded.

“yes i watch porn.”

it was the answer you had longed for. craved and yearned. but now what? you asked him.. now what do you do?

“okay…” you said, hesitant. “i’m sorry. i don’t know what to say i’m so embarrassed oh my g-“ he stopped you mid sentence. cutting you off to say,

“want to see what i watch?” his tone was so casual that he never seemed more comfortable to talk to you. you couldn’t give him a verbal yes, so you shook your head yes instead.

you gasped as he moved his arm closer to you, only to grab his phone your thigh had been covering up. you watched intently, all nerves stood on end as he traveled to his notes app. you watched as he unlocked a hidden folder that revealed several links and notes under them. this was so ushijima. you thought to yourself.

“can i?” you asked while scooting closer to him. he flushed and shook his head yes. you scrolled through tens of links and notes beneath them like, ‘threesome two boys one girl.’ or ‘good creampie.’ it wasn’t out of the ordinary until one really caught your eye. it was a link, then labeled. ‘y/n.’ you gasped reading your name. then he caught on right away. obviously embarrassed he shut his phone off and didn’t say anything.

curiosity struck at your bones. what was that video? what did it have my name on it?

“can i.. can we maybe watch some of them..?” you leaned into him now bringing the phone back up to seversace level and unlocking it. he never said no. he shook his head yes before saying.

“let me explain-“ you cut him off, pressing a finger to his mouth before saying. “we will save that one for last how bout that…” you were now flirting with him. and he could tell. he shook his head yes once again as you scrolled through all the different links.

finally clicking on one you watched it with him side by side. you watched as a boyfriend penetrated his smaller girlfriend with his huge cock. you felt ushijima squirm next to you, obviously uncomfortable.

“fuck…” you said without realizing. your head whipped to his but he was already looking at you. and god.. he was so handsome. his lips parted slightly, glossed from his own saliva

“can i please kiss you?” he asked while dropping his hand and now holding your face. before giving him an answer you brought your face to his with passion. kissing him so intently. your lips molded around each others. it was hot. it was almost too much to handle. a line of saliva connected the two of you as you parted.

you picked up his phone and went back to scrolling. this time his hands were all over you, touching every part of your body. brushing over it of pinching at it, he needed to feel you.

you moaned as he brought his head to your neck and slurped at all your open skin. you watched videos that he had saved, making mental notes about how the women in them are. or what he was into like, two lovers forced to be quiet or how the girl in the video spread herself open to get finger fucked.

finally you made your way to the video with your name on it. ushijima had now brought his eyes back to you, nervous of what was about to happen. in silence you clicked on it. just to find a video of a girl with your body type and look getting absolutely pounded.

“i’ve never been fucked like that before…” you admitted, breaking the silence. you looked over to him. dropping the phone now.

“fuck y/n… i’m trying really hard right now to be a gentleman but your making it hard.” he dropped his head back before bringing a hand to his hair and messing with it.

“fuck that! just fuck me please oh my god!” you squealed out, shocked that you even said it. you smacked a hand over your mouth. but it was too late. ushijima had already taken you into his arms. carrying you into his room.

“i haven’t..” he started while throwing his clothes off, and undoing yours next, “been able to get you out of my mind. i need you so bad” he admitted now laying you down on the bed.

it was all happening too quickly. and yet his pace was awfully slow for you. fully naked you stared at him. he stared back at you.

finally his fingers trailed your asshole before finding your cunt. it was soaked already, ushijima was seeing stars. “fuck your so wet..” he groaned. “can i?” he asked for your consent.

“yes! ushi~just fuck me!” you moaned as his hand cupped your soft little cunt. he stood above you, spread your legs open and pressed his middle finger into your tight little hole. taking it out to draw circles on your clit. your back arched at all of his motions. you squirmed under his touch.

“god your so fucking tight. so fucking pretty.” he groaned before putting another finger into you. pumping it in and out of you at reckless pace.

“need more… i need your cock ushi..!” you moaned out grabbing at his length. you jerked him off a couple strokes before he pulled his fingers out of you and pushed them in your mouth.

you sucked your own juices off his digits. and oh my god, ushijima had never felt hotter. he felt like he was on fire.

now on the bed with you he threw your body around into a doggy position. your ass in the air. he waited seconds just looking at you before he positioned his cock near your hole.

as his fat tip sank its way further into your sobbing cunt, the more your pussy sucked him in. half way in and he thought he was going to cum. he pushed the feeling deep down into his soul. he needed to fuck you first.

“ushijimaaa~ fuck! ah-! your so fucking bi-i-g!” and with that moan of his name, he swore he heard wedding bells.

a new fuel fired his engine, as he pounded your wet cunt from behind. your arched your back further. the sensation was too much for you. the feeling of you stretching out around his fat cock. you could feel him everywhere.

your cream gathered at the base of his cock, it made his mind go hazy. pushing your farther into the bed, he rested more of his weight on you. slamming his cock in and out of you. your noises filled the room. the way you clenched around home you knew you were close.

“fuck you like that? cmon y/n.. cum around my fucking cock.” his words sent you over the edge. shaking and spasming beneath him you cursed out moans. saying ‘fuck ushi-! god i fucking love your dick ohmygod’ it wasn’t until his pace slowed slightly that you realized that he wasn’t stopping.

“i’ve been waiting to fuck uou for months baby. cmon gimmie a nother one cmon…” you watched all his composer slip away as he pounded your overstimulated body. flipping you on your front you got pounded face to face with him. his eyebrows furrowed. he was such a sight.

you felt your second orgasm approaching. he reached down to circle your creamy clit. as soon as he touched it pleasure ripped through you. your body lurching forward. you shook with the feeling.

“imcummingfu-c! god ushi~ your cock oh my god. fuck your so fucking good ah-!” you moaned, almost screaming him praise. he came on the spot. his cock filling you up with his seed. you felt him everywhere.

“god your so perfect. oh my god fuck y/n.” he said through grunts and groans. finally he fell next to you. kissing your sweaty body.

getting cereal at one am was the best thing you’ve ever done.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

i missed writing about him so u know i had to do it

[cloudtransprncy]

Tease

Chaewon x Male Reader | 8k words Tags: manager x idol, secret relationship, pent up, semi-public, sneaking away, horny as fuck, chaewon is hot as fuck, I wish it was me

Chaewon looks too good in that dress. Three weeks without sex. How long before you snap?

Jus sumn quick for yall.

Chaewon [1:42 AM]: I've been touching myself thinking about you every night this week. It's not enough.

Chaewon [1:43 AM]: Good luck keeping it professional tomorrow when you see what they have me wearing for the HOT trailer shoot 😈

You stare at your phone, heat flooding through your body. Three weeks without her. The longest you've gone since you started dating a year ago.

Fuck, she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

Three weeks without her touch has made every message like this a form of exquisite torture. You can practically hear her voice in your head as you read her texts.

You're dating Kim Chaewon. LE SSERAFIM's leader. And you're one of their managers.

It started on a company retreat last spring—a late-night conversation about music that turned into coffee, then dinner a week later, then her pressed against your apartment door, whispering that she'd wanted this since the moment you'd been assigned to their team.

You'd both agreed it would be just once.

That agreement lasted approximately 8 hours.

No one knows. Not the company. Not the members.

Not even Jiyeon, the other manager who works with you handling the girls' schedules.

And right now, your girlfriend is driving you fucking crazy.

The comeback prep for "HOT" has been exactly that—hot, intense, and keeping you both so busy you can barely catch your breath, let alone sneak away to be alone together.

You've tried everything to deal with the frustration. Late-night FaceTiming while she touches herself in her dorm room, biting her pillow to stay quiet. Watching the videos you've made together—her riding you on your couch, her bent over your bathroom sink, her on her knees looking up at you with those eyes.

None of it is enough. You need her. You need to taste her, feel her skin against yours, be inside her.

The warehouse set is all sleek white surfaces and ribbed glass partitions. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold natural light that makes everything look clean, sterile, and expensive. The perfect contrast to the fire they're trying to create with this concept.

Staff members in black hurry around with clipboards and equipment, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. This "BORN FIRE" trailer shoot has to be perfect—it's launching LE SSERAFIM's most ambitious album "HOT" yet.

You check your own clipboard, making sure everything's on schedule while trying not to think about Chaewon and whatever outfit has her texting you at 2 AM.

The irony isn't lost on you. Here you are, supervising the filming of a teaser—literally called "BORN FIRE"—while Chaewon herself is the true teaser. She's igniting something in you that's becoming increasingly difficult to contain. The line between her performance for the video and her performance for you is blurring dangerously.

"Manager-oppa, the director wants to run through the toy car scene again," Eunchae says, bouncing up to you in her feathered white outfit. "Have you seen Chaewon unnie? She's next."

"Still in wardrobe," you answer, keeping your voice steady. Like you're not thinking about how Chaewon moaned your name in that hotel in Jeju last month, her body shaking beneath yours as she came for the third time that night.

Sakura walks past with her stylist, the long white dress trailing behind her. You spot Kazuha already positioned on one of the white block structures that fill the set. The whole group is scattered around the space in various stages of preparation.

"Jiyeon-ssi," you call to your fellow manager, "can you check if hair and makeup are done with Chaewon?"

Jiyeon nods and heads toward the dressing area. You turn your attention back to the monitor, where the director is reviewing footage.

Then it happens.

The quiet murmur of the set shifts. You feel it before you see it.

Chaewon walks onto set, and your entire body goes rigid.

Your throat goes dry instantly. God, you love her in white—the way it makes her skin glow, how it emphasizes every curve you've memorized with your hands, your mouth. You force yourself to breathe normally even as memories flood your mind unbidden. She knows what this does to you. She's counting on it.

The white strapless dress is even shorter than it looked in the concept sketches and fittings you'd seen last week. It hugs her body perfectly, showing off shoulders you've kissed a hundred times.

The black belt cinches her waist—the waist you've held in your hands while she rode you until you both saw stars. But it's the boots that kill you. Thigh-high, black, lace-up boots that make her legs look endless.

You force yourself to look away, back at your clipboard. Professional. You're a professional.

But memories flood your mind anyway:

Chaewon straddling you in the backseat of your car, hand pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet while security guards walked past.

Chaewon pressed against your kitchen counter, panties around one ankle, begging you not to stop as you dropped to your knees.

Chaewon in your bed, hair spread across your pillow, eyes locked with yours as you moved inside her, whispering that she loves you.

You still remember the first time she said those words—three months in, both of you sweaty and breathless, her eyes wide with something like surprise at her own admission. You'd felt it too, that terrifying, exhilarating free-fall into something neither of you had planned for.

"You good?" asks one of the camera assistants, noticing how you've been staring at nothing.

"Fine," you say, the word clipped.

On set, Chaewon takes her position. In one scene, she stands tall on a miniature white car, the contrast of the boots against the white making her look like some kind of goddess. In another setup, she holds a diagram against her bare shoulder, eyes focused directly at the camera.

She's perfect. Professional. The director loves every take.

But then, during a lighting adjustment, when everyone's attention is elsewhere, she looks directly at you.

It's quick—barely a second—but in that moment, her professional mask slips. Her eyes darken. The corner of her mouth quirks up.

It's the same look she gave you the first time you told her to get on her knees.

The director calls for the next setup. Chaewon moves into position with the other members, all of them in white, creating a visual that's both innocent and somehow sinful.

You take a deep breath. You've been so good. So professional.

But when she walks past  you, she whispers, "Bet you want to take this off me so bad," so quietly only you can hear it, you know exactly how this day is going to end.

You are completely, totally fucked.

You're in hell.

Not the burning, fire-and-brimstone kind. The sleek, white, glass-walled kind.

A special kind of hell designed with surgical precision by Kim Chaewon—your weakness, your fucking undoing.

The "BORN FIRE" shoot continues. It's been three hours. You've managed to stay professional for exactly none of them.

"Cut! Five minute break," the director calls.

The set erupts into controlled chaos—stylists rushing to touch up makeup, lighting techs adjusting gear, Kazuha and Eunchae huddled near the white blocks watching practice videos on their phones.

You stare at your clipboard like it contains the secrets of the universe.

Chaewon moves through the space like she owns it, boots clicking against the polished concrete floor. The sound alone makes your pulse kick.

She stands by the glass partition, sunlight catching on her hair, making it glow against all the sterile white. Your eyes follow her despite your brain screaming not to.

"Manager-oppa," she calls, voice sweet and professional. The sound hits you low in your stomach—the same tone she uses right before she begs you to fuck her harder.

"Can you bring me some water?"

She knows exactly what she's doing. Every staff member sees a hardworking idol asking her manager for a simple favor.

You know better.

You grab a bottle and walk it over to her. That's when she strikes.

Her fingers brush yours as she takes the bottle—deliberate, electric—the touch lasting a half-second too long to be accidental.

"Had a dream about you last night," she murmurs, voice pitched for your ears only.

The cap of the water bottle clicks as she twists it open. She drinks slowly, throat working in a way that triggers a vivid flashback—her on her knees three weeks ago, swallowing around you, looking up with those same dark eyes. You'd gripped her hair so tight she'd moaned around you.

Her tongue darts out to catch a drop on her lower lip. Her eyes never leave yours.

You say nothing. Your grip on the clipboard turns your knuckles white.

Jiyeon passes by, checking her watch. "Chaewon-ah, wardrobe wants to check your outfit before the next shot."

Chaewon nods, all professional sweetness. "Coming!"

She brushes past you, close enough that you catch her scent—something floral and expensive that you've tasted on her skin a hundred times before.

The stylist adjusts something on the back of her dress while she stands in front of the monitor. You try to focus on the schedule, on anything but the curve of her shoulder blades, the way the belt cinches her waist.

"Everything good?" the stylist asks.

Chaewon nods, then turns slightly. Her eyes find yours in the reflection of the monitor. "Perfect."

The tech walks away. You're about to do the same when—

"Woke up so wet this morning."

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your body responds instantly, a rush of heat that makes you grit your teeth.

She doesn't even look at you. Just keeps checking her reflection, adjusting a strand of hair like she didn't just set you on fire.

You step closer, voice low. "Watch yourself."

She smiles—sweet, sharp, fucking dangerous. "Always do. That's why I look so good."

The director calls everyone back. You retreat to the safety of the production table.

You adjust your clipboard, grateful for its coverage. This is what she reduces you to—a professional with years of industry experience hiding an erection like a teenager. The thought should embarrass you, but instead, there's a twisted pride in how she still affects you this way, even after a year together.

For exactly twelve minutes, you breathe. Focus. Reset.

Then she slides into the chair next to you.

"Can I see the schedule?" she asks, loud enough for others to hear. Professional. Proper.

You hand her your tablet without looking up. Three staff members hover nearby, discussing lighting for the next scene.

Sakura sits across the table, focused on crocheting something delicate and blue, her fingers moving with practiced precision. The click of her crochet hook provides a steady rhythm to the chaos around you.

That's when you feel it—her hand on your thigh under the table. Casual. Like it belongs there.

Your entire body goes rigid.

"Chaewon," you warn, barely a whisper.

"Mmm?" She leans in, pretending to point at something on the screen. Her fingers start to move. Slow strokes up, then down. Teasing.

You inhale sharply, willing your face to stay neutral.

The staff members move away. But Sakura is still there, focused on her project, the hook moving in and out of the yarn.

Chaewon's hand inches higher, bolder than she's ever been. Her pinky grazes dangerously close to where you're already hardening against your will.

"Stop," you hiss.

She leans closer, her breath against your ear. "I'm ovulating, you know."

Your vision blurs. Blood rushes in your ears.

"You'd feel it the moment you were inside me—"

Sakura looks up suddenly, her eyes meeting yours across the table.

Your heart stops.

Chaewon doesn't move her hand. Instead, she laughs at something on the screen, all innocent charm. "Manager-oppa, the schedule looks too tight. Don't you think?"

Sakura tilts her head, then returns to her crocheting, seemingly oblivious to the fact that your girlfriend's hand is still on your thigh, still dangerously high.

You wrap your fingers around her wrist under the table, stopping her hand but not removing it. A dangerous compromise.

Her pupils dilate. That's when you see it—she's not just playing with you. She's affected too. Her cheeks flushed, her breathing just a little too quick.

She's as desperate as you are.

The realization hits you like a kick to the chest.

"Two minutes!" someone calls.

She extracts her hand slowly, deliberately. Stands up, smooths down her dress. The movement pulls the hem even higher on her thigh.

"Think you can last the rest of the day?" she asks, a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Before you can answer, Jiyeon approaches. "Chaewon-ah, they need you for the car shot."

Chaewon nods, all business again. But as she walks away, she glances back—just once. Just enough for you to see the hunger there, mirroring your own.

The next hour is psychological warfare.

Around you, the set buzzes with activity. Makeup artists touch up the members between shots. The director argues with the cinematographer about lighting. A production assistant nearly trips over a cable, sending everyone scrambling.

And through it all, Chaewon wages her private campaign against your sanity.

This is high-stakes chess played under fluorescent lights.

Every staff member represents a potential career-ending leak. The director who's worked with three generations of idol groups and has seen every possible scandal. The company photographer who reports directly to the CEO. The stylists who know every whispered secret in the industry.

One wrong move, one lingering glance held too long, and everything you've both worked for collapses.

She steps onto the miniature white car, boots planted wide, the dress riding up her thighs as she poses. The camera loves her. Every angle is perfection.

You remember the first time you took her for a drive, six months into your secret relationship. She'd climbed into your lap at a deserted scenic point, the gear shift digging into her leg as she rode you, both of you half-clothed, desperate, her breath fogging the windows as she came.

Now, as she stands on that toy car, her eyes find yours between every take.

During the group shot with the white blocks, she trails her fingers along the edge of the structure, the same way she's traced paths across your chest in the dark of your bedroom. Her fingernails scrape lightly against the white surface, and you swear you can feel phantom scratches down your back.

Each pose becomes more provocative. Each glance more daring.

When the stylist adjusts her dress between shots, Chaewon stretches her arms overhead, making the hem ride dangerously high. The movement fills your nostrils with the scent of her perfume—jasmine and something deeper—that clings to your sheets for days after she leaves.

In the solo shot with the diagram pressed against her bare shoulder, she turns just enough that only you can see how her teeth catch her bottom lip—the same way they do when you're deep inside her.

Your heart hammers against your ribs. Your skin feels too tight. Every minute is torture, and the fact that you're surrounded by people—Jiyeon checking the time, Eunchae asking you questions, staff members constantly brushing past—only makes it worse.

This isn't just teasing anymore. This is Chaewon pushing both of you to the edge.

Then comes the final blow.

During the last break, when the set is buzzing with activity, she passes by the narrow space between the equipment cases where you're checking inventory.

No one can see you here. Just a sliver of space hidden from the main floor.

She stops, just for a second. Leans in.

"Just fuck me in the changing room already."

The clipboard nearly snaps in your grip.

She walks away, satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

And something in you—the last thread of your control—finally snaps.

You count to ten. Wait until she's back in position on set.

Then you move through the space with purpose, face composed, steps measured.

Professional.

You reach her just as the director calls for a lighting check.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist—firm, decisive.

She looks up, triumph flashing in her eyes.

"Do you wanna get caught, you stupid bitch?" you whisper, the words harsh but your tone almost loving.

Her lips part. A small gasp that only you can hear.

"Manager-nim, is something wrong?" the director asks.

"Wardrobe issue," you say smoothly. "Won't take long."

You pull her away from the set, past curious eyes, past Jiyeon's raised eyebrow.

The changing room is too exposed. Too many people.

Five years in this industry has taught you one thing: discretion isn't just preferred, it's survival.

You've built your reputation on professionalism, on being the manager who anticipates problems before they happen.

Chaewon is the one variable you can never fully calculate, the one risk you can't mitigate. And God help you, you wouldn't have it any other way.

You spot it—a storage room door, slightly ajar. Dark. Empty.

Perfect.

Her breath catches as you change direction, leading her toward it.

"What are you—"

You push the door open. Pull her inside  The storage room door closes with a soft click.

And finally—fucking finally—you're alone.

One second passes.

Two.

Then Chaewon launches herself at you.

Her hands grab your face with bruising intensity, fingernails digging into your scalp, your jaw, anywhere she can grip. The heat of her palms sears your skin as her mouth finds yours with desperate precision. The kiss is nuclear—all teeth and tongue and hunger. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you taste the metallic hint of blood, then soothes it with the velvety warmth of her tongue, exploring your mouth like she's trying to devour you whole.

Her body presses against yours, tits crushed against your chest, her hips grinding with shameless need. She grabs your hands and places them on her ass, demanding your touch without saying a word.

"Fuck, I missed your mouth," she gasps, her breath hot against your lips as she pulls at your clothes, fingers trembling and scrabbling at your belt, nails occasionally scraping against your abdomen. She can't seem to decide where to touch you—her hands moving from your chest to your shoulders to your neck, back to your belt, frantic and greedy. "Missed your hands. Missed your cock."

You slam her against the shelves, the metal rattling with a satisfying clang that echoes her gasp. Your hands are everywhere—her face, flushed and warm beneath your palms; her throat, pulse hammering wildly under your fingertips; the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath; the dramatic curve of her waist that fits perfectly in your grip. Every touch relearns the terrain you've been starved of for three endless weeks.

She reaches behind and grabs your wrists, dragging your hands to her ass, forcing you to squeeze the firm flesh. "Touch me everywhere," she demands, voice thick with need. "I've been dying for it."

"You took too fucking long," she pants against your lips, her voice vibrating through you as her hands finally get your pants open, the sudden coolness of air a sharp contrast to the heat of her touch. Her fingers brush against your cock, a teasing touch that makes your jaw clench.

The storage room closes around you—metal shelves on one wall digging into her back, garment racks crowded with costumes exhaling the scent of fabric softener and makeup, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner threatening to topple with each movement. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows that carve her features into something almost feral with need, highlighting the sheen of sweat beginning to form at her temples, at the hollow of her throat.

She makes quick work of the black safety shorts beneath her dress, the fabric making a soft whisper as it slides down her legs before she kicks them away. The movement is so fluid, so urgent, that your mouth goes dry with anticipation. She grabs your hand, guiding it between her legs, letting you feel how ready she is. "See what you do to me?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You spin her around, the quick motion making her gasp. For a moment, you just look at her—the elegant column of her neck where a few baby hairs escape her bob cut, curling with perspiration; the delicate slope of her shoulders, pale and perfect under the harsh light; the dramatic curve where her waist meets the swell of her ass, emphasized by the black belt that begs to be gripped. The white dress clings to every inch, revealing the heat she's generating beneath it. Your mouth waters just looking at her, tongue dragging across suddenly parched lips.

Your hand comes down on her ass with a sharp crack, the sound startlingly loud in the confined space. She jerks forward, a surprised gasp escaping her lips. The pale skin instantly flushes pink under your palm.

"Hurry up," she demands, looking back at you over her shoulder, eyes dark and glassy with impatience, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of brown remains. She arches her back, pushing her ass against your hand, silently begging for more.

You grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave impressions. "Shut the fuck up."

Her breath catches with an audible hitch. You know she loves it when you talk to her like this—can feel it in the goosebumps that rise under your touch, in the way her thighs tremble slightly.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling the heat radiating through the thin fabric, then down to the hem of her dress, bunching the material as you start to lift it. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound that seems obscenely loud in the small space. Your hands slide up her thighs, skin like silk beneath your calloused palms, finding the lace edge of her panties. Black, of course. The contrast against her pale skin is stark and mouthwatering.

Another smack lands on her ass, harder this time. You watch the flesh jiggle under the impact, the imprint of your hand blooming pink against her porcelain skin. "You like that?" you ask, already knowing the answer as she pushes back against you.

"Yes," she hisses, grinding back against your hand. "Again. Harder."

You comply, landing another sharp slap, watching the way her body jerks forward before pressing back, seeking more. "Look at you," you murmur, "So perfect for the cameras, but in here, you're just a dirty little slut who gets wet from being spanked."

She moans at your words, the sound vibrating through her entire body. "Only for you," she whispers, the admission hanging heavy in the air between you.

Spinning her back around, you claim her mouth again, tasting mint and desperation on her tongue as your hand slips between her legs, pressing the lace against her. The fabric is soaked through, warm and clinging to her folds. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your shoulders, sliding down your chest, grabbing at your ass to pull you closer, like she can't get enough of touching you.

"Goddamn," you mutter against her lips, the words a vibration between your connected mouths. "Your pussy's fucking drenched."

You hook your fingers into the lace and yank it aside, the elastic snapping against her thigh. Your middle finger slides through her folds, gathering her wetness, feeling how swollen and ready she is—hot and slick and perfect against your fingertips.

"Look how fucking wet you are," you murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure as you circle her clit, feeling it harden beneath your touch. "Been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

She whimpers, a high, needy sound that goes straight to your cock as she grinds against your hand. "I told you I've been wet since I woke up," she pants, her breath coming in short, hot puffs against your face. "Thinking about you. About this. About you bending me over and fucking me until I can't remember my own name."

She tries to reach for you, but you catch her wrist with your free hand, her pulse jumping beneath your grip as you pin it above her head against the shelves. The metal is cold against her skin, making her hiss.

"Not yet," you tell her, voice dropping to a growl. "I want you desperate first."

"I'm already desperate," she hisses, trying to rock against your hand, the movement making her belt buckle clink against itself. Her free hand grabs at your shirt, your arm, anywhere she can reach. "Just fuck me already."

You turn her again, pressing her face-first against the metal shelving. The cold surface makes her gasp, back arching instinctively away from it. She braces herself, legs automatically spreading wider on the concrete floor, the heel of her boots making a sharp click as she repositions.

You grab her belt from behind, leather warm from her body heat, using it to arch her back, positioning her ass higher. The positioning makes the dress ride up further, exposing more of her thighs, making her stance more obscene, more perfect.

Another smack lands on her exposed ass, harder than before, the sound cracking through the small room. She jerks forward, a moan ripping from her throat.

"Fucking perfect," you mutter, kneading the flesh you just struck, watching the pink handprint fade and bloom again under your touch. You land another blow on the opposite cheek, evening her out, making her squirm.

The scent of her arousal hits you fully now—musky, sweet, unmistakable. Your mouth waters at the smell of her, cock throbbing painfully in response.

You reach up, fingers finding her hair, gripping the short strands of her bob at the nape of her neck. Not pulling, just holding, controlling. The sensation makes her moan, her head falling back into your grip.

"Please," she whispers, the word a broken, ragged thing as she tries to push back against you.

You keep her in place with your dual grip on her belt and hair. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me," she begs, all teasing gone from her voice, replaced with raw need. "I need your cock inside me. Now."

You release her hair to lean over her, your chest pressing against her back, trapping her heat between your bodies. Your mouth finds her ear, teeth grazing the sensitive lobe. "After all that teasing? All those filthy little comments with people right fucking there?"

You land another hard slap on her ass, watching the flesh redden under your palm. "This what you wanted? Getting your ass slapped while the whole crew is just outside?"

"Yes," she admits, voice small but sure. "Needed it so bad."

You drag the head of your cock through her slick folds, the sensation making both of you groan—her wetness hot and silky against you, making everything gloriously frictionless. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't make you wait longer."

"Because," she pants, voice vibrating with need, "you want this as bad as I do."

She's right, and you both know it.

You guide yourself to her entrance and thrust in with one brutal stroke, burying yourself to the hilt in her tight, clinging heat.

The sound she makes is primal—half gasp, half moan, pure fucking need. Your hand clamps over her mouth immediately, palm registering the warm wetness of her breath, the softness of her lips.

"Shhh," you warn even as you pull back and drive in again, the slick sound of your joining obscenely loud in the small space. "You want the whole fucking staff to hear how you take cock? How their perfect Kim Chaewon is just a dirty little whore in here?"

She shakes her head, but her pussy clenches around you at the words, a vice-like grip that sends stars exploding behind your eyelids. You know she loves the risk, the filth, the knowledge that just outside this door, she's Kim Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM, but in here, she's just yours to use.

"That's what gets you off, isn't it?" you growl against her ear, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "Knowing they all think you're so sweet, so professional, when really you're in here letting me fuck you raw in a storage room."

Moving your hand from her mouth to her throat, you feel her swallow against your palm, her pulse racing beneath your fingers. You don't squeeze, just hold, feeling the vibrations of her moans traveling through her slender neck.

"That's right," you growl against her ear, teeth scraping the shell. "Remember who you belong to."

Her response is a full-body shudder, her inner walls clenching around you, making you groan at the sensation.

You fuck her hard, each thrust making her body jolt against the shelves. The metal creaks ominously, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the harsh sounds of your combined breathing. Your hand comes down on her ass again, the sting making her gasp, her pussy clenching around you in response.

"You love that, don't you?" you murmur, watching the red handprint bloom on her pale skin. "Love getting your ass slapped while your tight little pussy gets stretched around my cock."

"Yes," she admits, voice breaking around the word. "Love it. Love everything you do to me."

Without pulling out, you grab her left thigh and lift it, the smooth leather of her boot sliding against your palm as you plant her foot against a lower shelf. The new position opens her up, lets you sink even deeper into her molten core.

"Fuck," she whimpers, head falling forward against her braced arm, the tendons in her neck standing out in sharp relief.

"That's it," you growl, watching yourself disappear inside her over and over, mesmerized by the sight of her taking you, by the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you. "Take it deeper."

You grip her belt with one hand, bunching her dress even higher with the other until it's completely out of the way. The sight of her perfect ass jiggling with each impact makes your head swim, blood rushing in your ears. It's already pink from your earlier attention, the skin warm to the touch.

Your hand slides up her spine to grip her hair again, this time with purpose. You gather the short strands in your fist, tugging just enough to make her back arch further, to make her gasp, throat exposed and vulnerable.

"Look at you," you say, voice rough with exertion, the words punched out of you with each thrust. "LE SSERAFIM's perfect leader, taking cock in a storage room, being such a whore. Such a pretty little slut with your ass all red from my hands, your pussy dripping all over my cock."

She pushes back against you, taking you deeper, her body greedily swallowing every inch. "Harder," she demands, voice breaking on the word. "Fuck me harder. Make me feel it tomorrow."

You grip both her hips now, fingers digging into soft flesh, and pick up the pace. The new angle has you hitting that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble, makes her walls flutter and clench around you. The wet sounds of her pussy taking your cock fill the small space—obscene, filthy, perfect.

"You're so fucking tight," you groan, feeling her walls grip you like a silken vice. "Squeezing my cock like you're trying to milk it dry."

You switch your grip, one hand finding her throat again, feeling her swallow against your palm as you apply the gentlest pressure. Just enough to remind her who's in control, to make her breath catch. Your other hand comes down hard on her ass again, the smack loud enough to make you both freeze for a second, worried it might have been heard outside.

"You've been a fucking menace all day," you growl, your pace relentless, the sound of your bodies coming together a wet percussion. "Strutting around in this dress, whispering that shit in my ear, touching me under the table."

Your grip on her throat tightens fractionally, making her pulse jump against your fingers. Her only response is to push back harder, taking you deeper, her body yielding and demanding all at once.

"You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?" you ask, voice low and rough in her ear. "Slap your ass, pull your hair, fuck you where anyone could walk in and see you—see what a desperate little whore you really are."

"Yes," she admits, the confession barely audible. "Anything. Everything."

The tension builds between you, a tangible thing in the small, overheated room. The air is thick with the scent of sex, with the sounds of pleasure barely contained, with the electric certainty that this is exactly where you both need to be.

You change the angle again, leaning over her back to reach around to her front. The new position grinds your pelvis against her ass with each thrust, your cock hitting new spots inside her. Your fingers find her clit, circling it in tight, firm motions, feeling it swell and harden under your touch.

"Oh fuck," she gasps, her inner walls fluttering around you like wings. "Right there, don't stop."

You don't stop. You keep up the relentless pace, feeling her get wetter around you with each stroke, her arousal making everything slick and hot and perfect. Your fingers on her clit get slicker, the combination of her arousal and your spit making obscene wet sounds that mix with the slap of skin on skin.

"That's right, take it just like that," you encourage, voice strained. "Take it like the cock-hungry little slut you are."

Instead of being offended, she moans louder, her body responding to your words as much as to your touch. You know exactly what she likes to hear, exactly how far to push the fantasy of degradation that excites her so much.

The pleasure is so intense you have to grit your teeth to keep from coming too soon. Three weeks without this—without her tight heat squeezing you, without her desperate little sounds, without the feeling of being buried inside her—has left you balanced on a knife's edge of control.

"You close?" you ask, voice strained, the words feeling like they're being ripped from your chest.

"Yes," she pants, the word almost a sob. "So close."

You reach up with your free hand, tangling your fingers in her hair again, carefully pulling her head back to expose the elegant line of her neck, watching the muscles work beneath the skin as she swallows. You bend to press open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder, right where the dress leaves her skin bare, tasting salt and sweetness.

"Think about this tomorrow," you murmur against her skin, lips dragging over the goosebumps your breath creates. "When you're sitting in meetings, when you're in practice, when you're smiling for the cameras—remember how fucked you look right now. Remember how your ass felt getting spanked while my cock was inside you. Remember what a perfect little whore you are for me."

Her breath catches. Her pussy clenches around you. She's right on the edge, her body wound tight as a bowstring.

"Remember you're fucking mine," you growl, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that makes her cry out before she can stop herself, the sound sharp and startling in the quiet room.

You cover her mouth again, palm feeling the heat of her breath, the wetness of her lips, but it's too late—the sound echoed in the small room. Both of you freeze, hearts pounding, listening for any reaction from outside.

Nothing. Just the continued sounds of the busy set.

The moment of fear transforms quickly back into desperate need. Your thrusts become harder, deeper, more deliberate. Her body responds with renewed hunger, pushing back to meet you stroke for stroke, the rhythm between you perfect and instinctive.

Your hand slips from her mouth to her throat, not squeezing, just feeling her pulse race under your palm, feeling the vibrations of her moans travel through your fingertips.

"You gonna come for me?" you ask, feeling your own orgasm building at the base of your spine, heat coiling tight and insistent. "Gonna come all over my cock like the needy little slut you are?"

She nods frantically, beyond words now. Her body tightens around you, clenching with each thrust, the pressure building visibly in the arch of her back, the tension in her thighs, the way her fingers curl against the metal shelf.

You can feel your own release building, the tight grip of her pussy dragging you toward the edge. You've been thinking about this for weeks—dreaming about it, jerking off to memories of it—and now you're finally here, buried inside her, both of you desperate and filthy and perfect.

Her breath hitches. Her pussy flutters around your cock. You know the signs—she's right there, teetering on the precipice.

One more hard slap on her ass, the sting making her gasp, her inner walls clenching around you in response.

You lower her leg from the shelf, repositioning her with both feet on the ground, but spread wide. You grip her belt again with one hand, keeping up the pressure on her clit with the other. The new angle has you grinding against that spot inside her that makes her go crazy, makes her whole body tremble.

"Come on," you urge, your own control slipping, voice rough and broken. "Come on my cock, Chaewon. Let me feel it. Let me feel what a fucking whore you are for me."

Her body responds instantly, like your words were the final trigger she needed. She buries her face against her arm to muffle the sound as her orgasm rips through her, her pussy clamping down on you in rhythmic pulses, a flood of warmth surrounding you. Her legs shake so hard you have to hold her up with the grip on her belt, feeling the tremors travel through her entire body.

The sight of her completely wrecked, the feel of her convulsing around you, the knowledge that you did this to her—it all sends you over the edge. You thrust deep one last time, grinding against her ass as you come, filling her up with pulse after pulse, the pleasure so intense it's almost pain, radiating from your core to the tips of your fingers, the backs of your knees, the top of your skull.

"Fuck, Chaewon, fuck," you chant, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as you empty yourself inside her, feeling the way she milks every drop from you, her body greedy even in its exhaustion.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just the sound of ragged breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing from their frantic pace, the distant muffled voices of the set filtering back into your awareness.

You're still inside her, softening but reluctant to break the connection. Her body occasionally trembles with aftershocks, her pussy giving your cock little squeezes that make you hiss with oversensitivity, the sensation bordering on too much.

You run your hand gently over her ass, soothing the skin you'd been striking moments ago. It's still warm to the touch, a faint pink that will fade before she has to be back on set. Your touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

"You okay?" you murmur against her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

"Better than okay," she whispers back, voice wrecked but satisfied.

Eventually, you pull out slowly, both of you groaning at the sensation. You watch as a trickle of your come leaks from her, sliding down her inner thigh. The sight sends a possessive thrill through you, primal and satisfying.

She straightens, turning to face you. Her makeup is smeared, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes have that dazed, satisfied look that only comes after she's been thoroughly fucked. A thin sheen of sweat makes her skin glow under the fluorescent light. Her short hair is disheveled where you'd gripped it, sticking up in places that you smooth down with gentle fingers.

You grab tissues from a box on the shelf, gently cleaning between her legs. She watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips—so different from the smirk she's been tormenting you with all day.

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, suddenly aware of how rough you were, eyes searching for marks on her throat, her wrists, her hips, ghosting your fingers over her ass where you'd struck her.

She shakes her head, running her fingers through your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp in a way that makes you shiver. "Babe, It was perfect."

You retrieve her safety shorts from the floor and help her back into them, then smooth down her dress. Your hands linger on her waist, not quite ready to let go, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric.

A smirk forms slowly on her face, eyes glittering with mischief as she leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "Think they heard?"

You press a final kiss to her shoulder, lingering there, inhaling deeply—tasting salt and perfume and her, that essence that's uniquely Chaewon beneath the expensive fragrance. Your lips trace a path to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, feeling her pulse still racing beneath your mouth.

"Not if you keep your mouth shut next time," you murmur against her skin, unable to resist giving her one more gentle bite.

She hums, the sound vibrating against your lips. "But where's the fun in that?" she whispers, that familiar playful defiance in her voice.

As she attempts to take a step back, her legs buckle. She grabs your shoulders to steady herself, her usual composure completely absent, the bratty confidence from seconds ago vanishing.

"I can't move," she whispers, voice wrecked, blinking up at you with unfocused eyes. All the sharp edges of her personality momentarily dissolved, leaving her soft and vulnerable in a way no one else ever sees. "My legs won't work."

"Good," you murmur, unable to hide your satisfaction as you press a kiss to her forehead, supporting her weight. You hold her close for a moment, feeling the way she melts against you, completely undone.

After a moment, that familiar glint of mischief gradually returns to her eyes. The transformation is beginning; the desperate, wrecked woman slowly rebuilding herself into the polished idol.

In this moment, with her guard completely down, she looks younger, softer. The harsh fluorescent lighting should be unflattering, but somehow it just makes her look more real—smudged eyeshadow, faint red marks on her throat where your fingers were, her hair disheveled despite her attempts to smooth it. For a few seconds more, she's just yours.

She reaches up, her hand cupping your cheek with surprising tenderness. Her eyes, usually sharp and mischievous, soften as she looks at you. She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—so different from the desperate ones you shared minutes ago. This one is deliberate, unhurried.

"I love you," she whispers against your mouth, the words barely audible but unmistakable. It's not something she says often—both of you knowing how dangerous those words can be in your situation.

Your hand comes up to cover hers where it rests against your face, holding her there for a moment. "I love you too," you reply quietly, the words filling the small space between you. "Even when you're being a menace."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Especially when I'm being a menace," she corrects, and you can't help but smile.

You glare at her playfully, and she giggles—the sound at complete odds with what just happened, with the filthy things you both just did, with the woman who was begging for your cock and calling herself your whore minutes ago. The contrast is jarring and perfect; this duality of hers that only you get to witness.

She leans in and kisses you deeply, but without the desperate edge from before. This kiss is softer, a promise.

When she pulls back, you can see the clock ticking in her head. Reality intruding.

"You go first," you say, checking your watch. "They'll be looking for you. The shoot needs to wrap in twenty minutes."

She nods, takes a deep breath, and you watch in fascination as she transforms back into LE SSERAFIM's leader right before your eyes. Her shoulders straighten, her chin lifts, her expression becomes more controlled. It's like watching an actress step into character—except you know both versions are equally real.

She checks her reflection in her phone, adjusts her belt, smooths her hair with practiced precision. Only you would notice the slight tremble in her fingers, the pink marks on her hips where your hands were, the satisfied glow in her eyes that the camera won't quite catch but you can see clearly.

"How do I look?" she asks, voice steady now, almost back to the professional tone she uses with everyone else.

Like she's just been thoroughly fucked. Like her thighs are still sticky with both of you. Like she's hiding a universe of secrets behind that poised expression. Like she's yours.

"Perfect," you say instead, swallowing the possessive thoughts.

She smiles—not the coy smirk from before, but something genuine that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Then it's gone, replaced by the polished mask she wears for everyone else.

Just as you think she's about to leave, she presses one last kiss to your jaw, her fingers trailing down your chest with deliberate slowness. Her lips move to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

"I'll be thinking about this all night," she whispers, voice dropping to that register that makes your pulse quicken despite your recent release. Then, even lower, just for you: "And touching myself the second I get back to the dorm."

Before you can respond, she's slipped out the door with a final squeeze of your hand, leaving you alone in the storage room with her promise echoing in your mind, the scent of sex still hanging in the air, mingling with her perfume.

You give it two minutes before following, clipboard held strategically in front of you, expression carefully neutral as you adjust your own mask—the efficient manager, all business.

By the time you return, Chaewon is already back on set, taking direction for the next shot, nodding professionally at the photographer's instructions. Her posture is immaculate, her expression perfectly calibrated—looking as composed and professional as if she'd just been touching up her makeup instead of being bent over a shelf with your hand prints on her ass.

No one looks at her twice. No one notices the way she stands slightly differently, favoring one leg. No one sees the slight darkening at the base of her throat where your mouth had been.

You watch from behind the monitor, maintaining a careful distance, occasionally checking your phone or making notes on your clipboard. The perfect picture of professionalism.

She gets into position, poised and beautiful under the lights, following direction flawlessly. The camera loves her—captures her elegance, her poise, but misses completely the woman you know.

Then she glances directly at the camera, and for just a second—

The look she gives—half-lidded eyes, the barest hint of teeth catching her lower lip, a fleeting microexpression of remembered pleasure—that's just for you.

And you know, watching her seamlessly return to her perfect idol persona, that you'll both be counting the minutes until you can be alone again.

...

AN: Yes I'm a certified CHAEWON simp. This is strike 3 chaewon from me with more coming.

[hyckstarz]

benefits between friends | l.hc

pairing. fwb!haechan x afab reader

word count. 4.2k

genre. smut · friends with benefits · fluff-ish

synopsis. there are a number of benefits to being friends — until you step past the greyed lines of platonic and rip the pages of the dusty rulebook called 'friends with benefits'. it was meant to be simple. after all, it was just adding sex to the equation of their already established friendship... right?

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby, princess), unprotected sex, slight dom!haechan, light choking, marking (hickeys), mention of blood, mentions of violence (fighting), Yuta as your 'overly' protective brother, fluff? ending

A/N: finally posted my first Haechan fic! Just know... Haechan's recent 127's seasons greetings inspired this fic; that photoshoot had me biting my fist. no sanity left.

Y/N grabbed his shirt, pulling him down to lock her lips aggressively with his, tugging at the locks of his hair which elicited a muffled groan. The flowery scent of his cologne clashed with the lingering traces of his cigarette, creating an intoxicating concoction of innocent sweetness which mingled with something raw and rough.

As she kicked the door shut behind her, Haechan gently pushed her against it. His knee came up to press between her legs while his hand slid up her thigh. The coolness of his silver rings caused her to shiver, humming at the touch.

She hated how attractive her friend was; the subtle 'imperfections' of his skin — freckles and scars — were mesmerisingly perfect. And the veins tracing his hands and neck, along with the casualness of his outfit, had only added to her growing frustration.

His tongue trailed the seam of her glossy lips, nose brushing against hers whilst their breaths mingled together.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" She hissed.

He smirked against her lips, pulling back enough to snicker at her furrowed brows, "An asshole you can't get enough of," he retorted, tilting her chin up, his breath hot against her skin, "But you like that I'm an asshole, don't you?"

Lifting up the hem of her skirt teasingly, his gaze flicked to her pussy, grinning at the wetness which seeped through the fabric of her underwear, "Very much, it seems." His eyes darkened while his other hand cupped her jaw. The pads of his fingertips left imprints across her skin as he pulled her in for another kiss — teeth grazing against the pillowy lips.

"Shut up," Y/N snapped, her palm pressing flat against his chest as she pushed him down onto the couch, "you made the rule, yet you were the first to break it."

His eyes harboured a glint of mischief as though to suggest he had done it purposefully, yet his words feigned innocence, "Yeah, and what rule did I break exactly?"

She rolled her eyes, but God did she love the sight of him sprawled out along the couch. His hair was a tangled, disheveled mess, lips swollen and pink from the make out, and bulge hard as it pressed uncomfortably against his sweatpants, the friction almost unbearable. But his half-lidded, almost sleepy-looking eyes were oh so attractive.

Haechan sat up as she climbed on top of him, earning a scowl from her. She used her index finger to push his forehead down, laying him flat against the cushions, "'Don't get in the way of us hooking up with someone else', and you did just that, Hyuck."

He recalled the other night at one of Jaehyun’s parties. With a cup of what he hoped was alcohol in hand, he watched as Jisung’s hands hesitantly settled on her waist, his thumb tracing small circles against her skin. She drew him in closer, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and led him towards the stairs that ascended to the rooms, a shy Jisung trailing behind her.

A wave of either anger or jealousy washed over Haechan, he wasn't sure which, but he hoped it wasn't the latter. He crinkled the cheap plastic cup in his hands, chucking it away and pushing through the intoxicated crowd. Jisung's excitement was short-lived when haechan wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, and whisked him away to God knows where.

She kissed down his neck to his collarbone, whilst Haechan's hands settled on her hips, tightening his grasp, "You really were serious about getting in bed with Jisung, huh? Baby, he wouldn't know how to satisfy you if it came with step-by-step instructions."

She scoffed, her finger trailing down his chest teasingly, loving the way his breath hitched at the touch, before stopping at the waistband of his pants, "But he's cute."

He raised a questioning brow as his fingers pressed against her skin. He bucked his hips needily against her as if to distract himself from the bubbling feeling that threatened to overwhelm him at the mere mention of Jisung, "Baby, I'm cuter, and I can make you feel good. I'd say I'm worth more of your time."

She laughs, which sounds closer to a sneer as she strips herself free of her top, "Just admit you're jealous and don't like to share."

Haechan's eyes trailed her body as she undressed, and he followed. He loved how she never held back with him, always playing along with his annoying antics, "Baby, I don't get jealous," he sat up, pulling her hands to wrap around his waist, her breasts pushed up against his chest, "but I do love the idea of you belonging to me."

He nipped at her neck, hand palming her breast, whilst his free hand moved to her ass, squeezing it lightly. He loved the sounds she made, the way her body reacted to him, and how soft her skin was as he trailed his fingers up her spine, "Now, are you going to fuck me, or should I do it myself?"

She sighed, almost reluctantly obliging, but roughly rolls her hips against him as payback for getting in between Jisung and her, earning a groan from him. An innocent smile was plastered on her face as she tightened her hold around him, a teasing glint in her eye, "There, happy?"

Her rough movements had sent him spiralling in a fit of pleasure, he rested his forehead against hers, letting out a breathy chuckle. He fucking loved it whenever she'd put him in his place.

"Happy? No, I'm not fucking happy" He muttered, kissing her cheek before pulling slightly away from her with that stupid grin of his, "But I will be once I fill you up with my cum."

His eyes never left hers, it was almost like he were challenging her, getting her to push back or, even better, take the lead. His voice was raspy and slow as if to enunciate every word, "Now, ride me like the good friend you are."

The way he spoke to her, paired with his half-lidded, teasing gaze... That alone could make her lose control, and she loved it just as much as she despised it. She moved against him, a wave of pleasure consuming her, yet she still managed to harbour a sarcastic tone, "Fuck- you sure are charming."

Haechan chuckled in response, head nestling into the crook of her neck, "I know I am," he jokes, biting down against her skin, "and you love it."

Haechan's grip on her tightened, knuckles white, as she began to rock against him, loving how she fit perfectly around his cock. Every time they had sex, Haechan would subtly take the chance to observe her features. The soft curve of her lips when she smiled at the pleasure, the layers of her long, dark hair which gently framed her face, but also the parts of her no one else got to see. The airbrushed moles which peppered down her figure, the cute tan lines painting her skin, and the beads of sweat that formed on the canvas which was her body.

His fingers lightly ghosted over her frame, searching for her hands. When they finally touched, he gently wrapped his hand around her finger. It was the right amount of intimate that wasn't suspicious, but enough to satisfy the strange feeling that washed over him.

Haechan continued to watch her intently, brows knit together when her voice faltered, getting caught in her throat. He brushed the strands of hair from her face, "Let me hear you, baby."

Her breathing grew uneven, body quaking as her forehead pressed against his. She cried out in husky, desperate pleas, "Fuck, Hyuck, I'm close."

The familiar nickname echoed in his mind, igniting a surge of pleasure and a desire to hear it again. "Say it again... My name," He demanded breathlessly, almost like that of a whine.

His thrusts became more desperate and increasingly impatient. His slender hands cupped her neck, thumb brushing against her soft jaw, "Say it, Y/N," he begged, his eyes pleading with her, every inch of him anticipating the sound of her voice.

Y/N's gaze locked with Haechan's, her dark eyes boring into his. The intensity of this moment, of their bodies, sent her over the edge. She gasped, "Hyuck... please, I need..."

His name on her lips sent a jolt of adrenaline through him, his hips thrusted with more fervour, his own restraint slipping as he responded, "You're so good for me, baby."

She could feel every ridge, vein and throb of his dick, making it hard for her to contain herself as he thrusted into her roughly. Y/N arched her back, her voice breaking, words a jumbled and incoherent mess.

Haechan's own release followed, their bodies shuddering and trembling. As she rolled off him, they lay there, panting, a small chuckle leaving both their lips before she moved to gather her clothes.

"So, do you wanna continue watching our show? I'm dying to know what happened to Elena."

He sends her a soft smile in the middle of throwing his clothes back on quickly, patting the space next to him with an arm outstretched, "I'm down."

She returns his smile, giggling as she hugs his side, his arm wrapping around her smaller frame, setting the episode to play on the TV. Then, with a playful mumble, she says, "You’re still an asshole, but I’m glad we’re friends.”

He chuckles under his breath, placing an uncharacteristic kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo as he let out a sigh of content, "Me too."

The music boomed uncomfortably loud throughout the house, the bass thumping against the walls as sweaty bodies meshed together — intoxicated and insufferable. Haechan hated house parties, even more so when Y/N was there. It was where she'd hook up with men. It's where she first hooked up with him.

He scoffed, taking a sip of the cheap, lukewarm alcohol as his eyes stayed trained on her, watching her dance with some loser, Jungwoo. Johnny slid onto the couch next to Haechan, resting his arm along the back as he followed his friend's gaze. He smirked, clasping his shoulder and leaning in to shout over the music, "You gonna do anything about it?"

Haechan sends him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow, but he doesn't respond, which only raises Johnny's curiosity further.

He watches as Jungwoo's hands slithered down her body, his fingers slipping under her shirt to press the calloused pads against her supple skin. Haechan tightens his grip on the plastic cup, the crinkle sharp as it cut through the music. Johnny always found it amusing how the usually collected man would burn daggers at anyone who would get close to her, his thoughts loud as he sent curses to the shy dork who was suddenly all over his friend.

Then, Jisung saunters in, tipsy as he plops down next to Haechan, leaning in heavily onto his side. His elbow was practically digging into his friend's waist as he mumbled, "Can't believe you took her from me," he hiccuped, cheeks flushed and lips pouty.

Haechan shoved Jisung away with an annoyed groan, "Dude, space. And she was already mine."

Jisung squinted his hazy eyes at Haechan, looking at him in disbelief, "Y/N is not yours. You guys are just friends with benefits. You're basically using her for sex!"

Unfortunately for Haechan, Yuta had been leaning against the back of the couch, listening in. His fists had clenched instantly as he let out a loud scoff that startled Haechan, causing all the hairs to stand up on the back of his neck, "What the fuck do you mean, using her?"

Haechan swallowed thickly. He could have sworn he felt his life flash before his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing in fear. If there was one person you didn't want to piss off, it was Nakamoto Yuta. He may as well have been the second coach for the football team, a star player who dominated the field. He was also someone who didn't hesitate to mess people up, as he wasn't one to give a shit about his reputation, especially when people messed with his sister — Y/N.

Johnny was the first to step in, being close with Yuta, "Jisung is drunk, man. He's spewing shit."

But Yuta doesn't budge and doesn't take his glaring eyes off the side of Haechan's face, "I wasn't asking you."

Haechan chuckles lightly under his breath. He couldn't believe his luck. Couldn't believe Yuta had to be right here, just as he was about to get in-between Jungwoo and Y/N, as soon as Jisung waltzed in. That bitter laugh gets on Yuta's nerves and he reaches over the couch to grab the younger man by his collar, yanking him up, "What's so funny? You think this is a joke? Think my sister is one of your slutty, easy bitches you can play around with?"

Haechan raises his hands in surrender, red solo cup in hand, "Just wondered why it was only a problem with me and not with Jungwoo over there feeling her up."

Yuta's eyebrow twitched, his veins pulsing as he gripped his collar tight. But he responds with a sharp punch to Haechan's cheek, his ring cutting through his skin. Followed by another. And another. Loud gasps and whispers surrounded them. Johnny had jumped in, but Yuta was fuming, his face was a burning red as he glared down at Haechan who only laughed. He really couldn't believe his luck as he gazed up at Yuta from the floor.

Johnny's desperate yells were drowned out by the music, trying to pull Yuta off of Haechan as he was sprawled out along the floor, bruises blossoming across his skin. But to no avail, not when rage burned in the untamed eyes of the protective brother with anger issues.

Haechan didn't know how long it went on for. It wasn't until Taeyong stepped in, his stern eyes enough to have Yuta backing down like a guilty puppy.

He dragged himself to his feet, pushing past the familiar faces that reached out to him in concern, stumbling towards the stairs. He gripped onto the railing as the world spun nauseatingly around him. His jaw throbbed from the numerous punches, and his cheek burned from the cut of Yuta's ring, tasting blood on his tongue each time he swallowed.

He barely made it upstairs, kicking the first door open and stumbling inside, thanking the Heavens that it was the bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind him and fumbled with the lock until the click echoed in the small, white room. And, when he finally turned, he got a look at the mess of his face, each red mark and cut made up the canvas of Yuta's work. He let out a bitter laugh, the cool marble of the sink biting into his palms as he twisted the tap with shaky fingers and started to wash out the blood that stained his skin.

His attempts at cleaning himself was... pitiful, "Fuck," he mumbled. Soaked tissues scattered on the floor around him, sticking to surfaces, water pooling everywhere, yet he was still as much of a mess as when he first walked in here.

"Hyuck," Y/N's soft voice called out from behind the door. He tensed, glancing back at himself in the mirror. He didn't want her to see him like this. Vulnerable, weak and small. But he couldn't do anything on his own, not when his entire body throbbed and ached.

Hesitantly, he unlocked the door but stayed by the sink, embarrassment eating away at him. He could hear her shocked gasp and see the reflection of her wide eyes as she took in his appearance. She felt guilty, her hands fidgeting at her sides, unsure of where to even start.

She stood beside him, dabbed a wet tissue at the bloody cut on his cheek with a shaky hand, holding back tears with every wince of his. The lack of a first-aid kit only made matters worse for her, having to use tissues which barely helped in cleaning him up.

"Jesus, Hyuck," she breathed, soaking another tissue in water before going back in.

He leaned back against the marble, watching her carefully, like he wasn't sure if she was about to scold him or cry. Maybe a bit of both.

"You look like shit," she said, voice cracking on the last word, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed. It was a short, breathless sound that made him tense up as pain cut through his body, immediately cutting it short, "Thanks, Y/N. You really know how to make a guy feel good," he grabbed her wrist, trying to clean himself up instead when her voice cut through his attempts.

"You're such an idiot," she whispered, pulling her hand away from his grasp, "Be a good boy and let me help."

He didn't move when she stepped between his legs and cupped his bruised cheek so softly it almost had him punching the air, finding her adorable like this. Her touch was light, fingertips tracing along the cut with a gentle care he never expected. His breath hitched, and for a second, he forgot about the pain.

He watched the way her brows knit together in focus, the way her bottom lip trembled slightly from worry, and the way her hands shook as she dabbed at his skin with a damp tissue.

"You're such a mum," he teases, holding onto her hips gently as his thumbs grazed the skin under her shirt.

She paused, sending him a deadpanned expression, "Don't call me that or I'll knock you out."

He laughed, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck as he breathed her in, sighing contently. She gently threaded her fingers through his hair without complaint or question.

Haechan couldn't ignore the way she made him feel in this moment, or ever. He had always subtly wanted more; hand wrapping around her finger during their coupling, eyes tracing down the lines and patterns of her body, memorising every dip, curve and blemish. And now, as tears pricked her eyes, he couldn't help himself, blurting out words like a fool which was so unlike him, "I like you."

It was simple, but so idiotic. He made those rules. Those stupid rules that did nothing to stop his heart from locking its rosy gaze on her, squeezing out a sickening beat at every laugh or feel of her touch. Simple words such as 'I like you' couldn't express how he truly felt, even as the anxious flutter of butterflies, and whatever else used to lay dormant in the pits of his stomach, flapped their fragile wings erratically.

"What?" her voice was quiet, too quiet as the drowned out sound of club music filtered in through the cracks of the door.

Haechan pulled back, feeling his cheeks flush. He was usually the one to make the first move. The one who first suggested being friends with benefits. And, the one who acted like nothing was ever a big deal. But now, with her wide, soft eyes peering back at him, paired with the gentle touch of her cold fingertips, he felt the words form a lump in his throat, "I... I said I like you."

The hoarseness of his voice and the pitiful state of him had her giggling softly as she continued to clean him up, "I like you too, Haechan."

He grabbed at her wrist again, stopping her movements, "Not as a friend. Well, I do like you as a friend, of course. But as in-"

Whenever he was flustered, he was always a stuttering mess, waffling about anything to calm his raging heart, but her lips pressing to his had him pause immediately in surprise, "I know, dumbass. I like you too," she whispered softly against his lips, pulling back, "and you think I didn't notice you having feelings for me? I knew from the moment you suggested being friends with benefits. Like an idiot."

She smacked his head lightly, "If only you just said you liked me back then, it wouldn't have been so messy. And Yuta would have actually liked you too."

Haechan pouted, leaning against the counter and averting his gaze as he mumbled, "I guess I am an idiot."

"A big one."

He glanced sideways at her briefly, a smile tugging at his lips, "So... if you like me and I like you too, does that mean we've levelled up from friends to a couple?"

Y/N pondered, her hum echoing in the small confines of the bathroom as she cleaned up the last of his blood, "Hmm, I don't know, are we?"

Haechan scowled, mumbling small complaints before he pressed her to the cool, tiled wall, peering down at her with an intense glint in his eyes, "Don't tease me now, Y/N. I need to know."

She chuckled, but only shrugged, which had Haechan tonguing the inside of his cheek in frustration, his words making her thighs quiver, "I've always been somewhat gentle with you, but I won't be if you're a brat," his thumb grazed over her bottom lip, pressing it down and tilting her chin up, "Do I need to fuck the answer out of you? Because, believe me, I'd be able to get it out of you with your thoughts all mushy from the feel of my dick."

Y/N swallowed hard. Haechan always talked dirty. His smart little Gemini mouth constantly working overtime in making her knees weak. But this was different, especially paired with the cuts and red marks along his skin, "Ask me properly and maybe you'll find out."

Haechan let out a low chuckle under his breath, peering at her through his lashes cockily. God she would tug at the roots of her hair at how insane he was making her right now, "I always thought our first proper time would be sweet and slow but... Fuck being gentle."

His plush lips crashed into hers, dragging and nipping at them as if she were his lifeline. His fingers tangled in her long hair, tugging at the strands to tilt her head to the side, letting her parted lips lock with his with practiced ease. He tasted like alcohol, paired with his warm breath which caused her to feel flushed and drunk on him.

She gasped into the kiss, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She was grabbing at anything she could, from his shirt, to his hair, and even his arm. The warmth of Haechan's body contrasted against the coolness of the bathroom tile.

It was so messy. So needy. So hot. She felt like she had stumbled into cloud nine, especially as his lips dragged down her neck to nip at her collarbone, marking her, "Maybe this will let your brother know that you are mine."

She chuckled, "I didn't say I was," Haechan pulled back to glare at her and, if that wasn't the sexiest thing — the graze on his cheekbone and the red marks that peppered his golden skin made her feel breathless and in a daze, "...yet."

Haechan tried hard to stifle his smile, but he ended up letting out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he pulled her in by her waist, smiling down at her, "You're so cute, you know that?"

Y/N stares at him suspiciously, "I know... but what did I do that was so cute?"

He only roles his eyes, "Everything, especially the way you look at me," he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, letting is lips linger, "So, are you going to give me an answer now?"

She scowls at him, squishing his cheeks between the palms of her hands whilst avoiding his injuries, pulling him back to meet her gaze, "What happened to not being gentle anymore?"

Haechan pouted, rubbing circles along the skin of her waist with his thumbs, "I lied. I want our first proper time to be special and only when we make it clear we aren't just friends anymore. I mean... I want to show you off the moment we leave this cramped bathroom."

She giggles, pulling him in for a hug. He waits patiently, savouring the feeling of her warm body molded into his, "You still have to ask me properly, Haechan."

He whines, about to retort before cupping her cheeks and meeting her gaze, "Okay, Princess, as you wish," He clears his throat, a smug smile lacing his lips, "Will you let me finally be your boyfriend, Y/N?"

Y/N pretends to ponder, letting her hum echo in the bathroom and Haechan pokes her side which causes her to yelp and playfully smack at his shoulder, "Yes, yes! Fine, jeez. You can be my boyfriend. But don't let it get to your head."

Haechan picks her up by her waist and spins her lightly before wincing and putting her back down, laughing with her when he remembered Yuta had almost knocked his lights out, "So... Now that we're dating. Am I still an asshole?"

Y/N thought for a moment before shrugging, "A little. A cute one, though."

Haechan rolls his eyes, unlocking the bathroom door and lacing his fingers with hers, "I suppose one thing has changed though."

Her ears perk up as she meets his gaze, "What has?"

"I'm your cute asshole now."

© hyckstarz

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect. 

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures. 

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out. 

His reward for all that he has had to endure. 

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying. 

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort. 

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal. 

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him. 

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit. 

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses. 

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair. 

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are. 

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you. 

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap. 

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy. 

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know. 

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have. 

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek. 

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter. 

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both. 

Later, he reminds himself.  

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily. 

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy. 

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours. 

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back. 

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it. 

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls. 

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.” 

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.” 

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep. 

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale. 

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower. 

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.” 

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn. 

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.” 

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience. 

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan. 

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner. 

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow. 

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight. 

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt. 

A sharp smirk cuts into his features. 

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs. 

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more. 

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running. 

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths. 

And then your breathing is cut all together. 

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt. 

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels. 

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.” 

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability. 

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again. 

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs. 

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection. 

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. 

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards. 

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip. 

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow. 

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out. 

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger. 

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest. 

Neteyam keeps it sheathed. 

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool. 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!” 

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.” 

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm. 

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures. 

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only  by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves. 

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang  [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises. 

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer. 

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear. 

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights. 

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to. 

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames. 

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible. 

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention. 

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole. 

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs. 

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else. 

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor. 

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers. 

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button. 

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee. 

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets. 

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. 

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair. 

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire. 

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth. 

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place. 

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment. 

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing. 

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop. 

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him. 

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of. 

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms. 

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning. 

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle. 

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied. 

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time. 

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips. 

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?” 

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same. 

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.” 

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver. 

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations. 

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you. 

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him. 

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.” 

Your alarm flares up once more. 

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish. 

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his. 

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.” 

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out. 

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor. 

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys. 

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more. 

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the  way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload. 

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place. 

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly. 

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.” 

 And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows. 

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids. 

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union. 

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss. 

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper. 

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else. 

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over. 

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong. 

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust. 

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek. 

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations. 

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom. 

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him. 

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper. 

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts. 

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark. 

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible. 

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly. 

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again. 

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same. 

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.” 

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out. 

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat. 

Please don't be shy. Hearing your thoughts and reactions is what helps fuel my drive to keep posting. Love you, pookies<3

Taglist: @neteyamssyulang @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 @sullybrothersmate @criticallybella @lilghostiequinni @chershire23 @lala-1516 @yawnetu @puddle-nerd @ratchetprime211 @avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark @bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut @witchsprit @heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar @minnory @ikeyniofthetayrangi @ilovehobi101 @spicymayyo @v4mp1rr3 @nilsavatar @bambithewriter @quicktosimp @itchaboi-itchyboy @thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @imwutim @crazy4books1 @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @danniackerman @dayyzlol @justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty @neteyamtesuli @sakurayuki8655-blog @deadpool15 @valeriinee @leaveitbythewave @aqxllo @mxnygn @crazed-flower @crimsonroses666 @property-of-neteyam @rejectedbytheeempty @erenjaegerwifee

I know there are people I probably missed. It's getting harder and harder to keep track of this taglist so don't be offended if you aren't on there. Also, a good portion of these aren't linking properly so check to see if I have entered it in correctly and if so, you might want to look into your account.

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ roommate johnny 'soap' mactavish - 01

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ collection - prev ⋆ next

johnny was a menace. you didn't know it when you moved in with him. you needed a cheap place in edinburgh, and you had found johnny's ad. at first, you thought it was a scam, with how cheap the rent was and how good the place seemed to be. it had been a miracle that you arrived the same day the ad was posted, being one of the first to respond to it.

turned out it hadn't been a scam, and johnny took a liking to you. so you got the place. he explained the same day that he was gone a lot because of his job in the military, so you mostly had the place to yourself. when you asked about the cheap rent, he didn't even lie to you. he explained he owned this place, and the rent was just an easy way to make more money, because he didn't need two rooms. truth was, johnny didn't need money either, but he lacked the company.

coming home from deployment to an empty and quiet house always made him feel strange. it was not supposed to be like this. he was supposed to come back to a flat full of life and joy; that was why he looked for roommates. he wasn't picky, really; anyone slightly nice would have satisfied him, but a bonnie lass like you? that was perfect.

the moment you moved in, johnny had been shipped away for a two-month mission. you had the entire flat to yourself, and you created little habits for yourself. it was so easy to think you lived alone. everything was tidied up; johnny's military training made him neat. all his "mess," if you could even call it that, was perfectly tucked away in his room. in your mind, you were alone. and you loved it so much. before that, you had lived in a small flat with your ex-best friend. her boyfriend was always around, making it impossible for you to truly feel at home. she had called you a whore once because you left your room in the middle of the night wearing a t-shirt and panties, and her boyfriend had seen you. that had been the last straw; you had needed to get out of there.

it was all naturally that you were in your kitchen, waiting for your coffee, wearing the same outfit that caused so much drama a few months ago. what was out of the normal was the quiet whistle you heard from the threshold. jumping slightly, you turned around, ending face to face with a very sleepy and very shirtless johnny. when did he get back?

"that's a sight ah wid lik' tae see ilka mornin', bonnie," he flirted, softly scratching his stomach. his accent was so thick and his voice so deep it sent chills straight between your legs. blood rushed to your cheeks, and suddenly, it was way too warm in the kitchen.

you had never denied that johnny was a handsome man, but you had dismissed his flirting as friendly banter. but with the way he was looking at you now, you weren't so sure anymore. you didn't say anything; you were openly ogling his body, as much as he was ogling yours. but he seemed happy with your reaction as he went to grab water, turning around to make his way back to his bed, a big smile on his lips.

you spent the rest of the day at work, and when you came home, the flat was quiet. you'd quickly come to learn that quiet didn't mean johnny wasn't here; it only meant he liked to scare you, and his training had made him very light on his feet. anyways, you went on with your routine: took a shower, changed into your pyjamas--adding shorts to them this time--and started cooking your dinner. you had turned on your speaker, blasting music like you were alone. to your defense, you truly believed you were. there weren't even lights coming from his room. it came as a surprise when you felt a body behind your own, and a face next to yours, smelling the food you were making. you acted on your fight-or-flight reflexes, and your elbow made contact with his nose.

"argh, hell's bells, lassie, tis juist me," he whined, hands flying to his nose. not even concerned you might have hurt him, you started shouting at him, telling him he couldn't scare you like that.

and as you were running your mouth angrily at him, not even close to being done with your lecturing and with his throbbing nose losing a bit of blood, johnny swore he fell in love with you.

[nanamisgirly]

༊࿐ ͎. Tell me what to do, Mr(s). General ft. husband!Caleb

୨୧ — SYN. if I say that I have no idea for synopsis is that wrong? if I say it's just Caleb being a total whimpering mess under his wife during a dry humping session IS THAT WRONG????

୨୧ — cw. please is used a looot, sub Caleb, crying Caleb, dom wife, possessive wife, praising and degrading Caleb, dry humping, cumming in pants, Caleb in uniform, needy Caleb, orgasm denial (ig), hint kink for voyeurism, pussy drunk caleeeeb

୨୧ — wc. 1.9k (I enjoyed this sooo much)

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees <333

walking like a predator toward where your pretty husband caleb is sat—on a chair you previously put in the center of your shared room, ordering him to sit the moment he came home from his shift.

you trail a slow circle around him in heels and nothing else but the outfit you mischievously picked : sheer purple mesh that hugs your waist like a vice, a deep purple thong with a satin bow that barely covers anything, and a strappy harness that cups your tits. 

sinful.

“look at you, sitting so pretty for me,” you murmur, stopping in front of him, standing in between his strong, spread legs. caleb is still in his uniform, medals catching the low light, posture straight and big round puppy eyes looking at you like you hug the stars.

that big, terrifying colonel everyone salutes is just your sloppy little husband.

you take his hat, putting in your head as you settle onto his lap, “you're going to repeat after me,” you purr, voice husky and cruel. “only listen to my general,” you drag the hat lower over your brow, covering fully your eyes so he can only focus on your mouth and the smirk curving your lips. “tell me what to do, Mrs. General.” your face leans closer to his, noses brushing, your fingers curl around the back of his neck.

caleb hesitates—just a beat—and you feel his cock twitch beneath you, thick and already straining. his fingers dig into the side of the chair, trembling with restraint since you told him not to touch.

“only—only listen to my General…” his voice cracked, needy. “tell me what to do, Mrs. General.”

“gooood boy,” you coo against his lips—hips rolling against his cock through the layers of fabric. you're practycally naked and he's wrapped in stiff military fabric, but you've never felt this powerful. and he's never looked so vulnerable.

“you wear all these stripes and stars,” you whisper into his ear, grinding down slow, torturous. you create nothing but friction between your slick cunt and the thick ridge of him under those perfect, rigid military lines. “you snap at your subordinates like you've got bite…little do they know you're pathetic for your wife.”

he gasps through gritted teeth, muscles tensing, whole body locked up under the unrelenting drag of your hips. you smirk as his cock twitches, again, and again, and again. you grind down harder—rubbing your soaked panties over his shaft, smearing everything—until his lashes flutter and his head tips back slightly until his cheeks are flushed with the prettiest shade of red. 

he chokes on your name and says, “i-i know…i'm—ngh, pathetic. . .”

he bucks up helplessly, jaw slack, hair sticking to his forehead from how hard he’s sweating. your hands push him back down by the shoulders like you’re disciplining a misbehaved pet.

“god, you’re such a slut for it,” you sneer, dragging your soaked pussy over his cock slowly. “all that bark with everyone else—but me? you’d let me ride your face in front of the whole damn base if i snapped my fingers.”

caleb's eyes fly open at your words, pupils blown wide—you're probably fucking his mind upside down right now too. because he actually wouldn't mind drop to his knees in front of his whole bigrade—tongue out, begging for a taste—just to make you moan, to let them see who really owns him.

and you notice how his whimpers just grew louder from this idea, “oh, caleb… you're dirty. y'know that?” you grind harder, slower, meaner, your slick soaking through the lace of your panties and bleeding into the fabric of his pants—his cock an angry, twitching bulge pinned between you. “you're so desperate you'd let everyone see you losing your mind over your wife's pussy, letting them see how embarassing you can get..” you bite his earlobe hard enough to let him moan. “you're just a good little toy in uniform after all, a cock that leaks and cries ridiculously.”

and he nods. he nods.

his eyes are glassy, his warm purple had been swallowed by his pupils, his lips are parted and his knuckles are white from how hard he's holding onto the edge of the chair, still not touching you because you haven't let him. even his cheeks are streaked with real tears—shame and heat knotting his gut. 

“you gonna ruin your stupid pants while i hump you like a pillow?” you taunt, licking the salt from his cheek.

“please—fuck, fuck—please, p-please—i can't…please, fuck—please..” his head lolls back, he can't align two words together—he physically and mentally can't— not when he can feel your clit deliciously dragging over his swollen tip trough both layers, the texture unbearable. his thighs keep jolting up, poor boy thinks he might accidentally fuck you through his pants if he bucks just right.

and with his head throwing back, he give you a full view on that poor vulnerable throat—his Adam's apple bobbing helpless so you lean in and bite—the hat tumbles from your head, falling to the floor as your mouth seals over his neck, sucking hard, tongue swirling around it, lips locked around the bob like it's candy.

he chokes on the noise he makes—he's so easy.

you pull off with a lewd pop, spit shining on his neck, and you grin right into his glassy-eyed face. “do you like this, caleb? like being my little cockdoll in uniform?” you grind harder, and his eyes roll back— for a second he thinks he's gonna pass out.

you tilt your head, feigning sweetness as you watch him gasping. “that's okay, baby. you don't need thoughts after all." you kiss with fake gentleness his lips. “you just need to sit there and take it like the good little pillow fuck you are.”

“god—please—please, i'm…oh fuck, please—l-lemme touch y-you, fuck—please?” caleb's whole boyd is twitching, he's trying so hard not to rut up in case you might pull back. he's waiting for you to tell him what to do. he's sure if you ever decide to pull his pants and boxers down, you'd find so much precum soaked into them it'd look like he already came :(

his dick is so painfully stiff now there's no room left inside his boxer. it's straining against his waistband, trapped and pulsing, soaking through with pre that won't stop leaking.

“you're truly pathetic..” you say calmly, almost bored. “you're panting and soaking through your uniform like a teenager…caleb, did you wear those to work? your dump little cock all strained up in your pants to the idea of my pussy?”

“n-no, i—i didn't—” he's blinking fast, trying to focus, but his vision blurs.

“oh. so you didn't think about me while you were out playing hero? or the villain?” your hips grind down again—meaner, heavier. “not even once, pretty? not once while you were out flashing your badge, big man, that you imagined crawling home just to hump yourself stupid under me?” your voice drops, “you didn't think about how good it would fell to rub that needy, swollen cock against your wife's cunt?”

“fuck—fuck i did…” he chokes, “i did, i swear—just—it won't stop—i c-can't stop it—” his whole body's coiled tight, begging for release. his cock pulses again and again, fat and rigid. and it hurts so bad now it’s almost unbearable. his boxers are soaked through, sticking to him, wet and hot and suffocating.

“gonna blow in your fucking boxers just from me grinding on you. not even touching your cock. not even letting you inside.” you snarl, leaning close. “put your hands on my hips, now.”

no matter how much you were trying to play rude, you were just as desperate as him, and you also couldn't finish if he wasn't touching you. caleb doesn't need you to repeat twice, his hands are flying to your hips—gripping hard, his face is burning, tears watering his cheeks, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth like he's trying to hold onto the last scrap of dignity he has left, muffling all the pornographic moans he's making.

“you’re gonna make a mess right in your little cop costume,” you whisper against his mouth, not kissing, just hovering. “and for what? a few strokes of my pussy on your clothed cock?” you pant, sweat dripping down your neck and caleb's gaze is locked there—tongue almost stinging out, in wants to lick it, taste every inch of you, bury himself in your skin.

“please,” he gasps, hips jolting again, “please—I don’t care, I don’t—just let me, let me cum, i’ll do anything, i’ll ruin these pants, i’ll say thank you while i’m fucking leaking, i don’t care—please—” you raise an eyebrow, mocking as he continues. “i need—fuck, i need it…i'll clean it, all of it. . i swear—mghn, just—please, please let me cum…”

your breath hitches. 

you like it.

you like him like this—shaking under you, begging like something desperate and yours. it hits you in a wave, just like always : feral, possessive, overwhelming. you need him to break underneath you, to be a mess and only for you, only because it's you.

your hips stutter. just a friction. he moans, high, and it shreds through you.

“you feel that?” you snap, grabbing his jaw and tilting his head back, your own voice shaking now. “you feel how wet i am? what you're doing to me only by sitting there and whimpering for me?” his mouth drops open in a silent cry and just as you insert your thumb in his mouth, his hips snap up with a sharp, helpless jerk. 

he's so close, he swears he can taste it.

the fabric between you is completely soaked, clinging to every inch of him—your slick and his precum smeared into one hot, humiliating mess. his purple eyes disappear behind fluttering lids, his lips sucking greedily on your thumb, his moans vibrating through your whole body. “go on,” you hiss against his cheeks, nuzzling it, “cum in your pants for me. make a mess, ruin yourself like a good boy. pour so much cum that i can feel it through my panties.”

his hands are definitely going to leave bruises on your hips from how tightly he's groping you. his hips are having a mind of their own now, rubbing onto your clit, “fuck—fuck, oh god, fuck, ‘s too good, i’m—babe, fuck—”

his whole body convulses, once, twice—and he breaks.

his cock pulses hard against you, unloading into his boxers in hot, thick spurts, so much he actually whimpers from the pressure, from the pure relief. his thighs are trembling, his stomach twitching with every wave of release, and he’s gasping through it like he doesn’t even know what’s happening to him.

his forehead drops to your chest, breath hitching, and he’s sobbing. quiet, frantic little gasps. “thank you—thank you—oh my god—thank you—” he babbles, his words melting into your skin.

you’re still grinding, just enough to keep him oversensitive, to let him feel how wet he’s made you too. your fingers slide into his damp hair pulling his head back. his cheeks are flushed and wet, his eyes swollen. “you did so good, pretty boy.” 

you press your mouth to his, just a soft peck. “so so good for me, my dear.” you let your tongue glide out, slowly, lazily tracing his bottom lip—a question.

and he parts for you immediately, no hesitation in sight—he's just open and eager to obey you. your tongue slip into his mouth, claiming him all over again—sucking his tongue between your lips in a messy rhythm. your mouths mold onto each other, wet and rough, spit glistening down your chin. 

your brows pinch together, tight with something deeper than lust and all he can do is kiss you back, sloppy and dazed, hands still gripping your hips like you're anchoring him down to reality. 

(or heaven he doesn't know at this point)

  ˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵ 

[glowettee]

✧ the elle woods study method: mindset makeover & foundation building ✧

hey lovelies! 💗

omg, i'm literally bursting with excitement to start this transformative series with you all! we're going to dive deep into actually studying like elle woods, and all her study methods. it's going to change your academic life. (while keeping you fabulous, obviously!)

let's start with the most crucial element - the elle woods mindset. you know how elle went from being underestimated at harvard to graduating with honors? that transformation began in her mind, and that's exactly where we're starting too!

the core principles of the elle woods mindset (get ready to take notes!):

unwavering self-belief: elle's iconic "what, like it's hard?" attitude wasn't just cute - it was crucial

authenticity as your superpower: your unique perspective is your strength

resilience through positivity: turning every "you can't" into "watch me"

strategic determination: working smarter, not just harder

maintaining your essence: success shouldn't mean losing yourself

let me break down how to actually build this mindset (because theory without practice is like a perfect outfit without accessories - incomplete!):

mindset foundation building: • start a daily confidence journal (pink, obviously!) • write three daily affirmations • document your wins, no matter how small • reflect on challenges and how you overcame them

goal setting the elle way: • dream big (harvard law big!) • break down major goals into mini-milestones • create realistic timelines • identify potential obstacles and plan solutions • celebrate every achievement (even the tiny ones!)

your personal success toolkit: • a dedicated study planner (color-coded, elle would approve) • positive affirmation cards • vision board (mix academic and personal goals) • progress tracking system • reward system for reaching milestones

practical assignments for this week:

yes, i'm giving you all homework, because what's a lesson without doing homework? <3

mindset makeover tasks: • create your confidence corner (a designated study space that makes you feel powerful) • write your personal academic manifesto • identify and challenge three limiting beliefs • create a morning power routine

organization prep: • get your study essentials (cute but functional!) • set up your planning system • create a semester overview • design your ideal weekly schedule

community building: • find your study buddies (your personal warner hunting club, but for academics!) • join study groups • set up accountability partnerships • create a support system

elle's journey wasn't about memorizing legal terms - it was about believing she belonged in those hallowed halls while wearing her signature pink. you deserve to feel that same confidence in your academic journey. <3

advanced tips for the overachievers (because why not be extra?):

record yourself giving pep talks for tough days

create a study aesthetic that energizes you

develop personal success rituals

build a playlist that makes you feel powerful

photograph your progress for motivation

coming up in this series:

time management secrets

memory techniques that actually work

note-taking methods that slay

exam preparation strategies

self-care routines for academic success

group study dynamics

presentation skills

stress management

celebration strategies

and more of course <3

remember: elle woods didn't just survive harvard - she thrived while being unapologetically herself. that's our goal too! you're not just going to study better; you're going to build an academic approach that celebrates who you are.

homework time (but make it fun):

create your academic vision board

write your semester goals

design your ideal study schedule

set up your success tracking system

prepare your study space

xoxo, mindy

p.s. don't forget to reblog and follow for the complete series! we're building our own little academic sorority here! <3

[the-travelling-witch]

omg right, when i link her intro people can actually perceive it— /silly

also YURI!!!!

no but seriously, thank you for enjoying her and her story (that i’m planning on fleshing out when i redo her intro post haha) <3 i think i could see both things happening, bc carmilla isn’t secretive about being an idol anymore but also the yuus canonically don’t have a phone until scarabia... if yuu shi didn’t know, i think she’d find out by someone (either adeuce, kalim or cater maybe idia) casually mentioning it in conversation jshsh

alternatively,

yuu shi: i don’t mind spending the winter holidays in the same dorm as carmilla *wink*

carmilla: oh no, i’m going on tour, so i’m leaving actually

yuu shi: you what

also omg the idea that yuu shi would become a fan unknowingly is somehow so endearing and cute?? idk if she’d ever admit it to carmilla’s face after finding out but still awww🥺💕

also i hope for yuu shi that she got a good angle of carmilla in that photo. like, she doesn’t mind the fact she got a pic -hell, carmilla has probably done similar shoots/ads before and would probably post a photo herself saying sth like “do you think this shade suits me” (her unique magic has basically become the power of parasocial relationships after all lol)- but she does wanna look good in it. and between carmilla, ruggie (her bestie) and jade (her boyfie), you really wouldn’t wanna get on their bad side :3c

in any case, thank you so much for the art!!💕 i adore the way you drew carmilla in both the first and the kissing pic!! she looks so much softer than usual (unless she is with her eel beanstalk at least); i hope yuu shi is ready to get jumped out of nowhere to have a big pink kiss mark planted on her between classes, sth sth retourning the favour <3 i definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of these two together in the future (great seven help the people if they ever join forces—)

i love how kalim is in the first drawing like you could ever “trick” him into loving someone, that’s his default setting babe

i saw your kiss reference post and i’m not sure if i understood it wrong and you’re not looking for oc suggestions at all (please just ignore this if i did) or if you’re only comfy drawing your ocs with those of your moots, but i thought i might as well suggest my oc in case it inspires you🥹

how about 💄 with yuu shi and my oc carmilla, reversed or not i’d leave up to you. i feel like their dynamic could be interesting bc they seem similar in nature (both of them working for power through social status for example), though carmilla might be someone yuu shi would try to ‘suck up to’ as you put it in your intro for her (carmilla would clock that immediately but maybe she wouldn’t mind). i could see the lipstick kiss being a magicam thing too💭

[i’m currently working on actual intro art for carmilla ,since atm there’s only art other people kindly did for her, i could send you that as reference too if you feel like drawing these two queens together :3c]

though again, if i misunderstood what you’re looking for, i’m sure i could come up with other dynamics to suggest :>

JUMPS UP AND DOWN

YURIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!

HI CARMILLA omg ily- shes so PRETTYYYYY and i love her story her um works so well for a secret idol type RAAAAH 🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕they definitely are similar!!! Two divas fighting for power 💪💪💪 tho mayhaps for different reasons- if Yuu Shi was aware she was a popular singer- she'd DEEEFINITELY try to play nice, but given shes REALLY unfamiliar with most of twst culture outside her homeland, its unlikely- i think itd be really cute if she became a fan soon after arriving, and found out rather late ehehe- that, and she wants to work her way up in the singing industry herself!

MUAH 💛

(Oh nonono dont worry at all!! I meant to have it open for everyones ocs + some canon characters too! The only thing to keep in mind is my other oc x oc boundaries which dont apply to u here :>)

Kiss game! Pls leave an ask pls pls i wanna draw smoochies

Anyway she snuck a picture and ran off to post it

[kirbmey]

⠀⠀ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ husband!sylus spoils you rotten⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: sylus’ just a man who’s blindly in love at the end of the day. a man who’s also ridiculously rich and happens to be married to a little angel who loves pink and shiny things ꒰՞◌• ༝ •◌꒱♡

tw: more fluff (i just need him to take care of me), usage of ‘daddy, reader is a sweatheart, money doesn’t have value for these people at all, reader is very feminine and materialistic (sylus’ fault), mentions of pregnancy and baby fever, he smokes, etc.

being laid down on top of the pink fluffy blanket covering the big four-seater leather couch while waiving your feet slowly and scrolling mindlessly through your favorite luxury brands’ websites was definitely a hobby; an expensive hobby.

but weren’t those pink miumiu ballerinas just so perfect for the spring? and what about that dior shoulder bag? the handle made out of white gold with little diamonds creating details around the fabric? to the cart it goes.

let’s not even get started with make up, knowing how much sylus liked it when you wore this crimson chanel lipstick to his prestigious meetings, you just had to buy another one, and it had to be the limited edition, too… ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

he was more than okay with you leaving him dry (he has money for infinite lifetimes) every other day, handing you his black card when you two started dating a year ago; got married two months after.

sylus just had to make you his wife, his trophy, you were so perfect to his eyes, his ideal type. everything about you, physically and mentally fit with him like a puzzle. like a barbie to her ken.

and he was so… so. god, he was like a god (he kinda was). tall, fit, deep voice, pretty face, beautiful eyes, soft hair… and a plus to that, he was rich and influential. and he wanted you and only you! ૮ ෆ ´ ˕ ` ෆ ა

so you just clicked on the ‘check out’ button and wrote down the digits you ended up learning by heart, caressing the rock on your finger while waiting for the confirmation of your order.

sure, these expensive goods took longer than usual to be shipped, blah blah blah. sylus was one of the richest men in the country, his name was written in gold on every luxury brand list. when they saw he ordered something, anything, even just a hair clip, he was prioritized.

you happily jumped out of your seat, skipped with joy towards your husbands office, knocking before hearing a clear ‘come in’ from him.

“daddy, daddy! wanna see what i got for tomorrow’s party?” you asked with that sweat tone that you only reserved for him, sitting on his expensive wooden desk and swinging your feet.

“of course i do, kitten, lemme see.” he closed his laptop immediately, pulling the tall leather chair closer to your small frame and holding your ankles between his slender fingers, massaging your manicured feet while you scrolled through your phone to show him pictures and the inspo you got out of pinterest.

you started to rant about all the things you bought with his money, gaining low hums while he stared at you with heart-shaped eyes, an erase-able smile plastered of his sculpted face.

sylus loved it when you used his money and then bragged about it, loved it when someone complimented your outfit at a fancy dinner and you kindly thanked, saying your husband bought it for you.

but his favorite part of this whole process was when you made him sit on your bed which was filled with high-end bags, so many that the sheets weren’t even visible anymore, and gave him a detailed haul of everything, with try on included (by his request).

he’d order you to twirl around while he sipped on some french wine and smoked his cuban tobacco, manspreading so you could stand between his legs and allow him to take in every detail.

ever since he started dating you he slowly noticed these expensive brands paid crazy amount of attention to every detail, and he loved tracing the intricate shapes printed on the fabric while complimenting you.

but you were no selfish! no sir, you also bought things for your beloved, fantasizing about matching outfits with him, ordering him light colored clothes; things he’d never wear if it wasn’t for you.

“mm, what else do we have here… i don’t even remember what i got this time.” you mumbled while you stood on your knees on top of the mattress, throwing the empty bags away as you looked for the ones you haven’t opened yet.

“oh. my. god. sylus, close your eyes.” you told him trying to mask your excitement, grabbing the huge bag between weak fingers and placing it in front of him. “open them now, look.”

“isn’t this too big for you, honey?” he questioned leaving the cigarette in the ashtray, holding the white leopard fur coat up, the tag said ‘dolce & gabbana’, one of his favorite brands.

“no, silly. it’s for you. i thought you’d look so good with it on.” you revealed, grabbing his hand to coax him into standing up, stripping him naked out of his shirt and getting on your tippy toes to dress him with said coat.

he really looked expensive with it on, showing off his trained abs and juicy pecs while making his broad figure appear even more prominent, the neck chain he often wore visible.

he wasn’t used to using big pieces like this, but he let you style him as a mere mannequin; he’d always get more compliments then usual on his outfits ever since you started matching them with yours.

he’d often caught you checking out baby clothes or nursery furniture when your period got close, too. and couldn’t help but imagine how good of a mother you’d be, how beautiful you’d look in your sleeping gowns with a swollen belly.

if sylus already cherished you in front of everyone, proud of showing you off as his wife, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of showing off an entire family ૮꒰ ྀི ◜ . ◝ ྀི꒱ა

but there was time for that, you were too young still and he wasn’t going to age or die any time soon.

he just hoped you wouldn’t ask for a baby; he didn’t know how to decline you.

a/n: i’ve been an unfaithful girl writing sm about caleb and neglecting my favorite boy sy like this :(

— masterlist.

[risestarkiss]

✨The Fashionista✨

Rise Ramblings #234

While watching “The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle,” I noticed something.

I found it interesting that Raph, Mikey, and Leo were content with Raph’s outfit choice until Donnie stated that he wasn’t “in love with it, ya’ know.”

Suddenly, Raph declares “I’m a disaster!” Albeit ridiculously endearing, it was a little strange to see his sudden shift from moderately content to absolute dissatisfaction. Huh…

Then, the disaster twins decide to help him out.

Take a note of their outfit choices.

Raph tries on all of these fits and more.

Donnie’s first choice is a mild “no.” Leo’s choice is a hard “NO.” (Not surprising, lol.) But then, the overwhelming consensus lands on Raph’s fourth outfit, which ended up being Donatello’s other pick for his brother.

So, in summary, Raph tried on his personal choice for an outfit, of which they rejected. Then, ultimately, Donatello picked out an outfit for his brother, and that pick ended up being perfect. Hmm…

Then I noticed something else. In this episode, we never get a Donnie “curtain reveal” moment, to our disdain. I mean, Raph, Leo, and Mikey got to try on several different outfits in order to get their brothers' opinions before landing on that “perfect outfit, you know the one.” All of his brothers got to shine. Why not DonTron?

Then it hit me.

The try-ons were to get their brothers' opinions and approval. And, for his brothers' choices, he was a major contributor in assisting them in pulling their looks together.

What if, bear with me, Donnie didn’t need the "curtain scene" because he was so confident in his fashion sense that he didn’t need to ask his brothers for help to pick out a great look.

…or they figured out how to break Hypno’s spell before he could get a “curtain reveal.” BUT STILL-

Look at his outfit choices in this episode. Some of his wardrobe changes were off-screen, but all of them were fire.

(I added the baseball cap pic because it makes me happy. I wish we'd seen more of that fit.)

To me, he makes some really smart choices for himself, pushing the envelope of what is expected and taking chances: an open collar with no tie for a “black tie” event, a beanie and spiked wristbands for their “gansta look,” no socks with loafers (a viral fashion trend that actually began in Africa) with old man slacks in his reclined pose. *muah* Chef’s kiss!

But Don’s fashion sense doesn’t just shine in this episode.

In “Reparin’ the Baron” the boys go to Draxum’s apartment. Leo and Donnie show up in some extra nice “Sunday Dinner” twin drip.

The gold is in the details. Everything Leo is wearing, Donnie rocks its compliment: for Leo’s round collar, Donnie’s is angled, for Leo’s blue shirt, Donnie’s is white, For Leo’s light slacks, Donnie’s are dark. Blah blah blah. It’s so good!

Look at the winter fit in Snow Day.

Again, Donnie is Leo’s perfect compliment. As a pair? Fire.

Donnie has “the eye.” I can go on and on with examples, but I’ve said all of that to say this…

In the future, we see that Donatello’s technology had major pull in the resistance. He had drone ships patrolling the skies. He built and designed Leo’s arm, Casey’s chainsaw-hockey stick, and Casey's mask. The list goes on…

But, when Donatello from the past see’s Casey’s clothing from the future, he says this:

We know about the “Genius Built” brand. We’ve seen that logo on all of his tech up to this point. But, here he didn’t just say “Genius Built.” He said, “Genius Built Apparel.”

“Apparel” is not a tech brand. “Apparel” is a fashion brand. Of course, tech is incorporated into the clothing, but still.

This means that past Donatello secured this trademark with plans of creating a fashion brand, comparable to the likes of Gucci, Ralph Lauren, or any other modern clothing brand, as a subsidiary of “Genius Built,” the tech company.

And why not? The evidence has been in front of us this entire time. He has a sharp eye for style, fashion, and trends. It is easily canon that he can sew. Splinter sewed their ninja garbs in “Insane in the Mama Train,” and there is a sewing machine in the house.

They already learned Ninjutsu through basically osmosis, so learning to sew is not too far-fetched.

And here it is, right in front of us, Casey’s entire ensemble, from mask, to weapons, to clothing, was made by Donatello in the middle of the apocalypse under the brand name “Genius Built Apparel.”

And that was just in the bad future. Resources were limited, they didn’t have access to much of anything in that broken world as they were survivors of a devastating Krang invasion. Yet, he created all of this.

However, now that they’ve changed the future, his future as a fashion designer is limitless. Think of what Donatello could produce with unlimited resources, unlimited technology, and unlimited creative freedom.

Tech genius. Clothing designer. Fashionista. Future Genius Built Apparel Owner and CEO. I’m sorry, but I have to call it...

Donatello Hamato of the present, of the bad future, and of the good future is a fashion icon, the likes of which the world has never seen. ○○○○

Update: I've decided to make this concept into a mini-comic series!

2025 Update:

I've also made this post into a YOUTUBE VIDEO!

Video Preview:

You can check that out →→→ HERE ←←←

○○○○

🎞 YOUTUBE 🎞 | 💚 SEND A SLICE 🍕 | 🎵 BANDCAMP 🎵

[crunchystarz]

Twisted wonderland Self-aware au

Housewardens x GN!Reader

Cw- obsessive and possessive behavior, isolation all that good yandere stuff (remember none of this behavior is healthy nor do I condone it this is purely for entertainment )

A/n: I wrote this while dying of the flu I am not built for the cold weather release me from my chains

You downloaded the game for fun. As any normal person usually does. What you weren't prepared for was when your game started acting weird.

It started small, your characters dialogue wouldn't line up with the videos you've seen. No big deal perhaps they just got changed during an update.

It got a bit weirder whenever you'd start seeing new sprites you haven't seen anywhere else. You tried to shrug it off as you just managed to get a newer version of the game(somehow).

You swore the characters started to address you more directly but you again tried to ignore it. You just thought your brain was playing tricks on you.

It was only until you realized you left your phone at your apartment. You quickly rushed home to retrieve it just to find a very real house warden in your home.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

REALIZATION:

When Riddle first suddenly became aware of the fact his existence was nothing but code he was unbelievably out of it. All the conversations he had, his harsh upbringing, everything was just part of his character. Were the feelings of anger, confusion and acceptance even real? He went on a bit of a rampage being harsher than usual but he didn't wish to shatter the reality for everyone else (he'd also sound more like a mad hatter If he tried to explain the fact they were just in a game) So no one knew why for the next month Riddle was more on edge than usual.

He came to accept the fact his life was nothing but a path set for him. He instead started to focus on you(or should I say yuu)

He soon realized that the ramshackle perfect was nothing but a hollow shell. No notable personality or backstory. But he soon managed to be aware of your experience. Glitches allowed him to hear snippets of your voice and how you truly felt. He was your favorite and he wanted it to stay that way.

He'd make sure he was always on your home screen. He'd even get risky and start talking to you directly. He'd listen to you ramble as you played the game. His face would flush red not out of anger but embarrassment when you'd change his outfits or get excited when you realized he'd gotten a new card.

He wished there wasn't a screen keeping you away from each other...

BREAKING CODE:

(I like to think this would be similar to an overblot In a way and enough emotion could cause them to lose themselves and eventually overwrite their code)

Riddle was over the moon. He was really in your room. Sevens he never thought a day would come where he'd be standing in your space. It was so you...

It felt weird, in a space that wasn't just there for scenes. It was actually lived in.

When he sees you he feels as if he succeeded in his life's purpose. You're confused and he can see that. He tries to explain to you how he didn't even know how he had gotten where he was.

You let him stay in your apartment because you couldn't really let him out in a world he knows nothing about. You're too kind he says.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Riddle takes care of most of the household chores. While you're gone, he keeps himself busy by tidying up, reading, or researching ways to improve the home environment. As well as constantly making rules for you to follow. He's so used to rules being set in place, it's what he was programmed to do so In the beginning you let it slide.

However he becomes controlling, trying to regulate every aspect of your life to “protect” you. He insists on setting the rules for "safety" and gets visibly distressed if you don't follow them.

Constantly checks if the you're eating properly or following a “schedule” he created for you both. If you don't he'll sometimes scold you harshly like he would in game. He'll apologize later in fear of upsetting you, he just wants you to be safe.

Becomes passive-aggressive if you end up spending too much time with others, interpreting it as rebellion. All he's trying to do is set you on the right path , can't you see that?

-"It’s for your own good [Name],Without guidance, this world will overwhelm you. Let me take care of you."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

REALIZATION:

When Leona realizes he's in a video game he's surprisingly the calmest. He's upset and disorientated but he doesn't cause a big scene or let it be known he's losing his mind. He's used to concealing how he feels from others; it's in his codeHe's more laid back after this fact. No matter what he did he'd never be able to change his fate, because it was already set for him he had no control over it. So why did it matter what he did?

When you caught his attention the beast man was obsessed with proving himself to you. To him you were the only person who saw him for him. Who understood him. He was your favorite.

He'd never been anyone's number one anything before and the fact you choose him he wasn't going to let anything take that away from him.

The screen was just another obstacle he'll overcome to get what he wants.

BREAKING CODE:

Leona was really in your room...your room. He felt overcome with joy. Genuine joy, something he'd...never felt. Everything he felt up until then was just what the developers wanted him to feel.

Needs to say you were more than confused when you saw a lion hybrid snuggled up in your bed when you came home.

After getting an explanation you offered to let him stay in your apartment; if you didn't you were more than sure he'd be taken for government testing or something. Too bad you now needed a new phone.

DAY TO DAY LIFE :

Leona is still a lion at heart, he frequently loiters around you, draping himself over your furniture or bed like a lion staking a claim.He’s territorial and quick to anger if someone else tries to get too close to you. Despite his gruffness, he seeks constant reassurance that the you won’t leave him.

He's possessive and hates whenever you leave and doesn’t hide his irritation. He often tries to convince you to skip work/school, suggesting you should spend the day relaxing with him instead. (Sometimes he'll go out with you and will send looks to anyone who looks at you too long)

you're just happy everyone thinks that his animal features are crazy prosthetic since he refuses to hide them

When you come home, Leona monopolizes your time, insisting on napping together and getting all your attention.

He'd dislike the smell of other people on you when you come home and will drag you to bed for cuddles. None of these humans deserve your attention, he worked so hard for it not them .The thought angers him.

- "You're mine, I can protect you—provide for you —love you, you don't need anyone else but me those humans can't do what I can"

AZUL ASHHENGROTTO

REALIZATION:

Azul understandably does not take the life altering realization that he's not actually real well. His usually kept together appearance started to slip. He was all over the place. How could he not? This left Floyd and Jade completely confused why their boss was so out of it. It wasn't like him. He couldn't tell anyone else about this, not that they'd believe him anyway.

His interest in you starts as a mix of fascination and suspicion. He’s drawn to your influence but wary of your intentions. It became an obsession .

He saw you as the only real thing in his "life", Azul was your favorite out of all the characters, you picked him. He'd always make sure he looked right on your home screen (it wouldn't matter anyway since his sprite would always look the same)

You became the only thing he could think about, he'd have you no matter how much it took

BREAKING CODE:

Azul at first didn't think him being in your room was real. He thought it was a dream. When it finally set in that it wasn't just him losing his mind he was more than just happy.

He was in his darlings room. Everything felt so perfect. But not as perfect when he saw you for the first time. You were more than confused to see him(now in your living room) looking around.

After explaining the situation you let him stay with you in your apartment. You had no other choice where else would he go? It wouldn't be so bad to have extra help around anyway.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Much like Riddle , Azul takes care of most of the daily tasks. He offers to assist you with your tasks, whether it’s by organizing your work schedule or helping with assignments. However, he might feel a little hurt if you seem too busy for him. Pay attention to him please!

Don't forget that this is a sly sly man. Azul becomes emotionally manipulative, weaving situations that ensure you stays reliant on him. He uses your gratitude and trust to justify his control, often veiling his obsession with charm and just him being a "gentleman".

He'll shower you in gifts and constantly praise you on everything. He'll try and offer you deals just to make sure you have ties with him.

He'll text you at work with encouraging needy messages. He's always in your corner so just rely on him okay? You don't need anyone else.

- "You’d be lost without me. Everything I do is for you. Just let me take care of all your work."

Kalim Al-Asim

REALIZATION:

Kalim was in denial for the longest time about the realization that he was in a program. He couldn't wrap his head around it. He didn't want to bother Jamil more than he already did especially not with something this big. It was hard to not say anything while his mind was going crazy with thoughts as he tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

When he realized yuu wasn't just another side character and in fact the player he became obsessed with knowing more. He'd get so excited whenever the game would glitch and he could hear your voice and you talking as you played around on the home screen.

It made him so happy; Kalim was your favorite character. Others would wonder why he'd be more bubbly than usual whenever he'd hear you compliment him on his newest card. He wanted all your attention onto him.

He'd make your every wish come true. This screen wouldn't stop that.

BREAKING CODE :

Oh wow he was really in your room. It was way smaller than he expected but that didn't matter. It was your room so it made it much better. He doesn't know what he did to deserve this. He was basically bouncing off the walls; touching everything.

When you walked into your room you didn't have time to react before Kalim was pulling you a crushing hug causing you to yelp. He apologized a bit flustered.

After explaining (he could barely keep himself together) you allowed him to stay. He was so sweet how could you let him out into the world?

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Kalim insists on accompanying you everywhere. Wherever you go Kalim is clinging to you. Your neighbors have all taken a liking to him so him being with you isn't so bad.

He isn't good with chores but he tries his best to clean and tidy when you're gone. He tries to cook but has burnt it multiple times so you tell him not to. He buys you gifts you don't even need all the time. He just wants to spoil you.

Kalim’s obsession is rooted in his desire to make you happy at all costs. However, his constant need to please you and keep you close becomes overwhelming, and suffocating. If you tell him this he'll make you feel bad, that he just loves you so much and wants to take care of you; you often cave.

When you return from work or school, Kalim greets you with hugs and insists on spending the rest of the evening together, often talking about what he did while you were gone.

-" [Name]! I missed you sooo much, you should let me go with you to work, you don't even need work I could make all of your wishes come true"

VIL SCHONHEIT

REALIZATION:

Vil did not take it well... He was absolutely losing his mind. His beauty was nothing but pixels. Was everything he worked for was fake? Everything he knew was just controlled by someone else. It was so frustrating. He ended up locking himself away until he could accept the truth.

When he realized yuu was the player he was...angry. However that anger subsided after he started to know you for you. Vil was...your favorite. It boosted his ego more than anything.

He wanted to be in the spotlight at all times. He craved your attention. It was like he became addicted to your praise. He'd smile whenever you'd call him pretty whenever you looked at a card of his.

He wanted to be perfect for you. He'd show you how perfect he could be, you'd see. He just needed to get rid of the screen.

BREAKING CODE:

Vil stood in the middle of your room. Everything was too perfect to touch. He took it all in. everything felt just...right.

He didn't even calculate how he got in your room but he didn't care. He was in your world and sevens he'd never felt better.

When you walked into him looking at himself in your mirror (taking in how he was an actual real person) . You were so confused why this gorgeous man was in your room.

After explaining the situation you agreed to let him stay with you; if you didn't you swear he'd get kidnapped or something to become a big model. It wouldn't be bad to have a pretty face to look at when you got home.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Vil insists on controlling your wardrobe and grooming, often brushing aside whatever protests you have. He discourages you from associating with “lesser” individuals, claiming they tarnish the your image.

He knows what's best for you come on, those other people will only be dragging you down from your true potential. But of course you wouldn't know that he couldn't blame you.

Vil’s obsession honestly manifests in his relentless efforts to “perfect” for you. He'll critique your choices and actions, believing he alone knows what’s best for you. His fixation often leaves you feeling scrutinized and trapped.

He believes you just need him. He'll do everything just as long as he gets praise from you. Tell him he's being a great help won't you?

"You deserve only the best, and I won’t let anyone drag you down—!"

IDIA SHROUD:

REALIZATION:

This is not as exciting as they make it in manga. Idia was having a crisis. Realizing that he was in a video game made him want to hide away even more than he normally would. It didn't matter how hard Ortho tried he just wouldn't budge. He stayed cooped up in his room trying so hard to distract himself from the fact that he was nothing but code just like the ones he's learned to manipulate. Idia is not going to recover from this.

Idia was already wary around yuu but when he realized you were yuu he wanted to know more. He was still too scared to leave his dorm so you didn't see him much other than the homescreen.

He was so taken back when he realized that, he — Idia shroud was your favorite. He'd never been anyone's favorite before. He was just a loser that stayed cooped up in his room all day and you still liked him?

He grew obsessed with that feeling of being seen, he wanted to just use whatever knowledge he had to break past the screen.

BREAKING CODE:

When Idia realized he was actually in your room he damn near fainted. No scratch that he did. He was so overwhelmed. He didn't deserve to be in your room. Oh man how did he even get here? Nevermind that.

He was so incredibly.. happy. He was in the room of the one person who he felt knew him more than anyone. It made him feel bubbly and his hair flashed pink a bit.

He looked for something to do fearing he'd have a panic attack if he thought about this too long. So you ended up finding him tinkering with your computer when you came home. He basically died when he saw you.

After explaining to you what happened, you, now trying to get him to calm down agreed to let him stay. Not that he'd leave anyway he practically already made your bed his sanctuary.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Your room basically became his. He keeps it clean but doesn't really do a lot of the house work other than that.

Idia spends the day gaming, tinkering with gadgets, or monitoring your online activity (just to make sure you're okay, of course!). He reacts the worst to you being away and just does not like it one bit.

Idia struggles with separation anxiety (like a once stray cat)and might try to convince you to work or study from home. If you insist on going out he bombards you with messages . He'll subtly manipulate situations to keep you away from others, convincing you the world is too dangerous.

When you come home, Idia is overly clingy, insisting you spend the rest of the night together and refusing to let you focus on work. He just wants his cuddles and your attention you were out with those normies all day!

-" Can’t you just stay here and binge-watch something with me? It’s way safer—and more fun."

MALLEUS DRACONIA:

When the fae realizes he's nothing but binary code strug together he's more than perplexed. Malleus has dealt with a lot of things in his time but nothing could prepare him for the crushing reality. He's completely disoriented and Sebek nor Silver can figure out why because he won't tell them. He started lacking on work and just overall seemed more spaced out.

He was very quick to put two and two together. Yuu was the player. It was obvious; human without powers manages to get into NRC and some how is involved with almost everything. It wasn't quite hard to figure out.

Malleus idealizes you seeing you as a perfect being. In his eyes, you are kind, compassionate, and the only one who truly understands him. He was your favorite, this confirms you too think you too are meant for each other.

He'd do anything just for you to join him when he takes up the crown, it's just the screen that's not making it possible.

BREAKING CODE:

Once in your room Malleus doesn't look like he cares at all actually but inside he was losing his mind in the most positive way ever.

Nothing was how he imagined. This is how you like your space? Noted. He tidied up your place a bit and sat in the middle of the room as to not mess anything.

When you walked into him just sitting there you were so confused but he just gave you a smile showing off his fangs.

After explaining the situation you let him stay in your apartment; too scared what he'd manage to get into if you didn't.

DAY TO DAY LIFE:

Malleus makes sure everything is perfect for you at all times. Everything is organized and you never have to worry about anything being out of place.

Like Leona Malleus has animalistic tendencies, him being a fae dragon causes him to be well.. possessive, not wanting anyone else to monopolize your attention. He might grow jealous of your coworkers, friends, or even family, viewing them as a threat to your bond.

He. Is.clingy. worse than Kalim and Idia. He insists on escorting you everywhere, even if it’s unnecessary. People recognized him as "[Name's] horned bodyguard!" Gods you hated it. He tries to insert himself into every aspect of your life, wanting to be by your side constantly.

It took him so long to just be okay with letting you leave on your own. Once you're home he's bombarding you with questions about your day.(Secretly snuggling up to you so you can have his scent again)

-" I could just use magic you know, there's no need—I'm simply a better option for this stuff you can rely on me"

MASTERLIST