#clothing brand Gisele Clothing

[yieldtotemptation]

WISH ft. Giselle

giselle x male reader smut

8k words

"It's a Christmas miracle!" —is how Giselle chooses to make her grand entrance, swinging open the door to your bar, a fresh powder of snow dusting her shoulders. She shrugs it off. "My favourite person in all of Seoul."

You deadpan, "That's very concerning."

She laughs off your quip with the same ease that she does everything else. Sways her hips, saunters over to you, fire engine-red heels clacking against wood as she rushes to take her usual stool. Not like she'd have to fight anyone for it, there's no one else here.

Besides, even if there were—it's always been hers.

You're sliding over her drink before she can even open her mouth to order, because that's what you do for her. Anticipate. Your job in a nutshell, really. Knowing what she wants.

Her thanks is in the blush colouring her cheeks, flushing them a rosy pink, matching her hair in hue.

Just so immediately pretty.

She raises the drink, grinning at you through the glass. Gets a little too dramatic with her gasp.

"Exactly what I wished for! How did you know?"

"Made a list, checked it twice."

That earns you a giggle, has Giselle leaning forward, propping an elbow on the bar, chin in her palm. Her usual routine—just sitting there, all beautiful and flirty and really, really fucking out of place amongst the dim lighting and worn-out leather.

And yeah, you’ve committed it all to memory, seen it in every light and shadow; the smoky liner ringing around her eyes, the gloss that makes her lips look shiny and sweet and oh so soft. The absolutely devastating smile that never seems to leave her—only gets wider, warmer, parting when she laughs and slaps a hand on the table, or lands it on your forearm.

Accidentally, of course.

"Does that mean I get to sit on your lap later?"

It’s a touch early for her to throw out bait so blatantly. That’s more of a three-drinks-in kind of thing.

Still, your mouth answers for you before your brain can catch up, “Depends if you've been naughty or nice.”

“I think we both know the answer to that one,” she says, far too casually for you to handle, daring you to let that thought linger. Let it rattle around your head with all the other loaded thoughts involving her in various states of undress and in all sorts of compromising positions—underneath, on-top, kneeling. Thoughts that are better kept on a tight leash.

Because you know what would happen if you were to give in to them.

How you’d reach over the bar separating the two of you, pull her onto the counter. Send all the glasses, the bottles, crashing to the floor, and just kiss that smile right off her face, right here, right now. Tear off her clothes and leave her bare and exposed to the cold December air, make her yours, fuck her absolutely senseless. Render her nothing but a victim to your fingers, your lips, your cock, to all the need that’s been boiling inside you over the past months and—fuck.

She's got you good.

There's no point in pretending like it hasn't been this way since the first time she found you—at the end of an alley that's at the end of another alley, down the stairs and into the underground proper. Waltzing her way into the hovel that is your whiskey bar; all for reasons that you’re yet to fully untangle.

Months of performing this same dance—it's late, she walks in, typically perfect and bouncy, like some half-remembered fantasy or a libido-driven hallucination. Only, she must be real, because there’s no way you could ever conjure up someone like her.

It's embarrassing, you really should be far more used to it now, built up at least a partial immunity to her brand of charm. But somehow, she still finds a way under your skin. You’re only human, after all. And she’s… she’s Giselle.

Undeniably, in-your-face gorgeous, Giselle.

Dead-set and determined to throw herself at you until you break.  

"Perfect," is her evaluation when she's taken her first sip. It plays out like it’s been choreographed: she licks her lips, flashes that million-dollar smile, lets loose a sigh of pure joy. Looks at you all wide-eyed and impressed; like you're the only person in the world who's ever given her exactly what she wants. Like she doesn't already live in a reality where everyone else falls flat on their faces to ensure that the needs of Aeri Uchinaga are met. “Always perfect.”

And you have your own steps to follow. You're glued to the pulse in the curve of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the naked collarbone when she shirks off her coat to reveal tits that are much too ample for her dress to contain. All these little things that make her so fucking distracting.

She says, surreptitiously, "You know, I didn't think you'd be open today."

"And yet you came anyway."

"And yet I did."

There's the loaded insinuation stacked on top of her words like a teasing question mark:

('I came looking for you.'

'I was waiting.')

"Like I said, a Christmas miracle," Giselle repeats, softly this time. Barely audible over the Christmas tunes you’ve got on a loop, some self-inflicted torture you’re wreaking on yourself for purposes unknown. Maybe to get into the spirit of things. Maybe to keep the silence at bay. Maybe to make Giselle's efforts feel less effective.

It doesn't work.

It does, however, have you leaning in just to hear her better, and that's a mistake right there. Getting too close that you can follow the lines of the dress she's picked out for the night. A sheer black, strapless number that hugs her figure close, dipping at her chest, giving you just enough of a glimpse to send the alarm bells ringing.

Ending short of the tops of her thighs, because of course she's wearing stockings, and of course they have tiny little bows holding them up, and you're already thinking about how easy it would be to get your teeth in them and pull them apart, and the walls are starting to feel closer and closer with each passing second.

But you don't say anything. You just try to remember to breathe. You chance a look back at her face, aiming for unaffected.

Her eyes instantly undo you.

Giselle uncrosses and crosses her legs. The stockings stretch.

"Like what you see?"

Now seems like an optimal time to pour yourself a drink. Something strong to fortify the weakness in your knees, to maybe bolster the resolve that's threatening to crack like the ice frosting over the windows outside.

You grab a glass, pour a good measure of whiskey and throw it back without even bothering with the usual ritual. You need it. The burn is a good distraction.

You turn her question back on her. Shame on her for asking something so obvious. "What do you think?"

"I think," Giselle smiles, tilts her head, that curtain of bubblegum-pink cascading over her collarbone and down onto the bar, "That it appears that all the effort I put getting into this tight fucking dress was worth it."

You're unable to stop yourself from saying, "Don’t need the dress if that was the intention." It slips out of you, like an idiot, and you decide to busy yourself by pouring two more drinks, because you really don't know what the fuck else to do at this point.

“Duly noted,” she says, likely adding it to some mental file she keeps on you. Ways to get you to drop your guard. Ways to get under your skin. “But don’t you think unwrapping presents are half the fun?”

You’re rolling your eyes, it’s too much, but Giselle’s too good at this whole thing. Got the two of you sliding deep into the easy rhythm of conversation you've found yourselves in many, many times before; when it's just you and her in the waning hours of the night and you're finding excuses not to close up and she's finding excuses to stay.

And the drinks just compound on it even more. All the alcohol really seems to do is blunt her filter and dull your better instincts, bringing you both to that tipsy point where everything that comes out of your mouths can’t help but sound like shameless innuendos; all terrible ideas that you both absolutely must indulge in.

Talking and flirting and drinking until you’re finally crossing that invisible line drawn over the counter of your bar, forgetting about that ethereal wall of separation that keeps you on the straight and narrow; that would normally stop you from doing things like reaching over and brushing a strand of pink out of her face and over her ear.

You keep your hand there, your thumb padding the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into your palm.

“So,” she says, and it’s accompanied by the kind of pause that holds a whole universe of possibility. She takes a sip of her third drink of the night, her eyes fixated on you, studying the lines on your face. Trying to find the cracks.

“So.”

“Why haven’t you made a move on me?”

She might as well have gathered snow from outside your door and thrown it right at your face. You blink, the warmth of the whiskey in your cheeks fading fast. “Very confident of you to think that I would want to.”

“Don’t dodge,” she chides. “We both know you didn’t open tonight for the amazing business rush. So. Spill. Why?"

You’re about to spout off an excuse—something about a Hippocratic oath, or bartender-customer privilege, but Giselle cuts your lie short before it can even leave your throat.

“You’ve been staring at me like you want to eat me alive every night I’ve been here, and you expect me to believe you’re not interested?” Giselle leans closer, her breath warm on your hand. Her eyes piercing through, stripping away every defence you’ve ever had. “You’re barely hiding it you know? How badly you want me.”

There’s an implicit challenge underneath her words. You get the message loud and clear:

Don’t you know how badly I want you too?

"It's—" you start, before course correcting when you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You swirl the whiskey around in your own glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light and dance. "Complicated."

"Oh really?" Giselle's eyes light up at that, and you're beginning to feel like you're falling into some trap she's set up. It just hasn’t revealed itself to you yet. "I like complicated. I live off complicated."

"I'll bet," you reply, not missing the fact that she's now taken your hand into hers, threading her fingers through yours. "Probably why you're here so often."

Giselle clicks her tongue, runs it across her lips. You'd die for a taste. "I thought I asked you to stop dodging. But, if you really want to know, I come here because I like the company," she explains, before ending her thought with, "and the attention."

"Because being an idol doesn't give you enough?"

"Not in the way I want it."

"And I do?"

"Not yet," she says, with an air of finality. "But give it time."

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of the unspoken. The air in the bar feels charged, like the moment before a storm hits. You're reading her, acutely aware of the things running through her mind, because you can see it in her eyes, because they're the exact same thoughts that’s never left yours.

You want her.

You need her.

She’ll give herself to you.

Giselle’s the first to break the pause. “Ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

The corners of eyes crinkle ever so slightly, and that's about where you realise your fate's been sealed from the start. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. You’re aching already. "What I really want for Christmas."

You don't need a map to know where this is headed. But you still ask anyway. "And what is that?"

"You."

You set down your glass with a clink. "Look, Giselle—"

"Let me finish," she interrupts, and now her hand's sliding up your arm, leaving a trail of static wherever she touches. "For Christmas this year, all I want is for you to do whatever you want to me."

A second attempt, "Giselle—"

"I know you want to. You know I want you to. We've danced around this for too long and I'm running out of ways to subtly tell you that if I don’t get my hands on that perfect cock that I know you're hiding, I just might burn this place to the ground. So," she says carefully, intentionally. Making sure you feel each word coursing through your every nerve ending, winding their way down to your cock, until you’re throbbing in your pants.

Giselle bats her eyelashes. Bites her lip. Leans even closer. Her tits get very close to winning the war against her dress.

"Don't you want to make my Christmas wish come true?"

You never stood a chance. "I do quite like my bar in one piece."

"I do too." Giselle's smile turns devilish. “But I like the idea of having your cum inside me more.”

"Then we better get you out of your clothes."

Only, a slight amendment.

"But keep the stockings on."

—

Giselle kisses you like a woman starved. Messy, sloppy crashes that has her nose bumping into yours and her teeth finding purchase in your lip. She seems determined to leave her mark. You’re more than happy to let her.

It’s a far cry from what you’re used to—the build-up, the slow crescendo where you both pretend that you don’t immediately want to jump to the inevitable—but Giselle clearly doesn’t give a fuck about any of that.

The moment you’ve dragged her over the bar, fulfilled your fantasy and cleared the countertop so the only thing standing between you and her body is the crumpled mess of her dress, she's on you. Moaning, whining into your mouth, desperate. Tongue hunting down yours, pressing into it, trying to wrestle it into submission.

Taking your cheeks into her hands, holding firm, the only thing keeping her steady as you match her hunger, heat against heat. Her taste is everything you've ever wanted—sweet and sharp, like the whiskey burning through your veins, warming you from the inside out.

"God, I needed this," she whispers in the breaths between your kisses, as your hands get adventurous and run down the length of her spine, pulling her closer into you.

You make good on your promise, finding the zip, peeling it down, leaving the fabric to sag off her shoulders. Her skin is cold underneath your fingertips, the curve of her back breaking out in goosebumps. Your touch makes her arch, her back bow, her breasts push up against her dress until it can't hang on any longer and the whole thing pools around her waist.

��Merry Christmas to me,” comes tumbling out of your mouth when you finally get to appreciate Giselle.

The full, round tits, naked and begging for your hands. The smooth curve of her waist, the dip of her stomach. The way her hips flare out, giving way to thighs that you know, just know, will be the perfect grip. And the stockings. Holding up the suspension of your disbelief—she’s so ridiculously out of your league and yet so, so needy for you.

“Fucking gorgeous, Giselle,” you’re telling her, making her sigh, her eyes closing shut as you reach out to fill your hand with her chest. Your touch makes her nipples pebble, stiffen underneath your thumb. She leans back, pushing her chest out even more, giving you as much of herself as she can for you to touch, to tweak, to worship.

And she’s so much smaller than you, so much softer than you’ve ever allowed yourself to believe. The reality of her in your arms is far more intense than any fantasy you’ve ever concocted in the quiet of the night after she’s long gone and left you with nothing but her memory. But she’s giving herself to you now, wanting you to do it all.

Letting you push into her, kiss the skin between her neck and her clavicle, press into her a brand that will linger long after you’ve both unwinded and unraveled each other.

“Just like that,” Giselle whispers in your ear, hands finding your neck, needing you even closer still. “Don’t stop, just keep touching me. You can do whatever you want—tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

Nothing else to do but oblige, to give in to your baser instincts, to bring every fantasy, every lurid thought to life. Giselle’s been living in your mind rent-free. Filled it with thoughts of fucking her into oblivion again and again—so you already know exactly where to go, what to do next.

You know to trace the edge of her stocking with your thumb, pressing down on the bow, watching as the skin around it flushes from your touch.

You know to drag your hand up, higher up her thighs, push the hem of her dress to her waist, slip under the elastic of her panties and hold itself there. Leave her trembling in anticipation of your touch.

“Please,” you’ve barely started and she’s already begging, breathless. Needing for you to explore her.

But first, you need to tell her how.

“I’m going to touch you,” you say, voice gruff, and she shudders, her hands tightening around your neck. “I’m going to get my fingers into your cunt, I’m going to squeeze your tits, I’m going to make you scream my name, and you will, because you’re going to be such a good girl for me. Understood?”

Her eyes flash open, meeting yours. Not an ounce of doubt. Just pure need.

“Yes,” she says. A single word that’s more a plea than a response. “Please. Do whatever you want. Make me feel good.”

She just about collapses when you yank her panties down and push your hands between her thighs.

“God—fuck—” and she’s sobbing already.

“You’re so drenched,” you’re remarking, sliding your fingers higher, feeling the wetness that’s been gathering there for who knows how long.

“For you,” she’s gasping, repeating herself, “For you.”

It’s so easy to find the heat of her, to push in and down on the top her mound. Give just the right amount of pressure on her clit that makes her jerk. Makes the muscles in her face twitch, her mouth open wide and moan. It’s a melody in your ears, and you press down harder, swirling now, and you’re beginning to think you’ve found your true calling.

Fuck making her drinks; making her fall apart is why you were put on this planet in the first place.

Her breasts jiggle with every tremble that runs through her, flickering in reach of you, taunting you with their bounce. You can’t help but lean down. Not when they’re calling to you like that.

You lick a path from the base of her neck to her collarbone, and then lower, to one of those perfect peaks that’s been begging for your attention.

Giselle inhales sharp through her teeth, her chest heaving as you start to suck on her nipple. You work your tongue around it, roll it in your mouth until her knuckles turn white against the edge of the bar, her nails digging into surface. The sounds she’s making, these choked gasps that are so raw, so needy.

Showing how good she feels with every part of her body—pushing her breasts up and into your face, her hands tangling in your hair, legs spreading wider, thighs shaking at the effort of staying upright.

You don’t let up, keep going—tongue swirling, fingers moving at double-time over her cunt, her other tit.

Listening to her turn your name into something filthy, something that sounds like a curse.

You pull back off her, cool air kissing the wetness you leave behind, making her quiver, her high, fuck-me heels knocking against wood.

“Giselle,” you say, taking in this look of bliss on her face. The teary eyes, the trembling lip, her cheeks now so very red. “Gonna make you cum now.”

You don’t wait for permission. You already have it. You step forward, lifting her legs up and trapping her atop the bar, spreading her wide open.

Two fingers at first, all at once, no hesitation. Giselle’s pupils blow wide, shocked, teeth bite down on her bottom lip, muffling a cry that you feel in the pit of your stomach. She’s so soaked that you slide right in with ease, a slow push that makes her whine, the slickness making the sounds of your fucking echo over the din of the empty bar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Giselle stutters, all breathy and desperate. Hands flying to your shoulders, nails digging in. Holding on for dear life, writhing as your fingers curl upwards, pushing up against that magical spot inside that has her clenching.

“Such a good girl,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth like they’ve always been there, just waiting for her to hear them.

The whimper that she makes—the noise alone should be illegal.

“So tight around me,” you tell her, pushing on, focusing entirely on pulling more of these noises from her, doing your best to ignore how hard you already are, how unbearable it is to not be inside her. “So good for me.”

It’s the praise that makes her keen, makes her whine. Pushes herself onto your fingers, trying to get more, trying to get all of you. Just so fucking hot for you.

You can see it playing out across her body, the way she’s losing herself to the pleasure, giving up control of her own functions to you.  So helpless, so beautiful. So fucking delighted to finally have you using her in ways she’s only dreamt of.

You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re addicted before you’ve even had her.

“This cunt is going to feel so good around my cock.”

Giselle's nodding, slurring together a string of yeses and thank yous in response.

Her pussy’s pulsing around your fingers, juices soaking your hand, she’s already so close. So close that you can almost taste the orgasm on her skin.

“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you, Giselle? Want me to fuck you senseless.”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely there. Just stunningly beautiful even in the midst of her desire, and you’re not even sure she’s heard you at all until she’s panting out, “I want it. Need it. So much. Oh, God, please, fuck me with your cock. Make me cum. Make me scream.”

But you get in close, lips to her cheek, a command for only her to hear. “You’re going to cum all over my hand. You’re going to show me how badly you want it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, please—” is the most she can manage, a harsh whisper that barely gets through. You feel it more than hear it, a shiver running through her, down her spine and up yours. “Do it. Give me more, I need it.”

She’s nothing short of incredible. Writhing under your touch, losing herself to your fingers—there’s never been anything—anyone—like this. Anyone that runs this hot,  that pleads this much, that is so eager for nothing but you, as much of you as you can give.

There’s no excuse for why it's taken so long to get here, why you let every other opportunity skate by. But now’s not the time for regrets. This is all just catch-up. Getting to this moment that’s been burning a hole in your mind. Making up for all the times when you should’ve been bringing her to her knees, should've been marking her up as yours.

“Mine,” you’re claiming, taking her lips once more, feeling the tremble in her chin. “You’re going to be mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” her voice quavers back into your mouth.

She kisses you back like she’s drowning, like you’re the very air she needs to breathe. And it’s all you can do to finger-fuck her faster, pressing deeper into her wetness. It’s filthy, borderline disrespectful the way that you’re owning her now. But it’s all necessary, if that’s what it’s going to take to get to feel her shatter in your arms.

But just as you can feel her hips bucking up off the counter and into your wrist, as she’s about to tip over the edge, you pull back, breaking the kiss, leaving her choking for air.

“Look at me,” you tell her, forcing her glassy eyes to refocus, to snap to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to cum so hard for me. You’re going to look at me when you do.”

Giselle opens her mouth answer, but all that comes out is a whiny mewl when you slide your other hand from her tits to the back of her neck, pulling her into you, hard enough that you can feel her pulse drumming against your palm.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” you say to her, adorning her with all these sweet words that absolutely wreck her. And it’s so easy to because all of them fit. Your good girl, your slut, your baby, your whore. She deserves to hear them all. “Take it, take it all for me.”

“Fuck, please, I’m almost—” She tries and fails to put the syllables together—your fingers are too good, too precise in their frenzy. Playing her body, hitting every key, every beat, rushing to that final chorus.

And then it hits her, without warning, just a sigh and then she’s—

“I'm—I'm—cumming!”

Eyes trying to stay on yours, losing focus, turning wild, until she’s barely even there anymore.

Giselle cums.

Locking her in place, rippling across her body. Every muscle tensing, cunt quivering, hips lifting off the bar as her juices paint your hand.

“Thank you, thank you, fucking thank you—"

Her voice dies out, trapped in her throat, her words becoming nonsense as your fingers have her riding waves. You’re utterly transfixed, watching the orgasm rip across her face, melting her down to a messy puddle. Barely hanging on to you, mouth lolling open, eyes screwed shut, breaths coming in sharp and fast.

She’s limbless, her body goes slack, and you debate giving her the space, or even just a second to catch her breath, to come back to reality.

But you just don’t.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop working her, because something tells you that the last thing she’d want is for you to stop. Something tells you that she’s one of those girls—the ones who love to chase the high. Who love to be pushed, who love to be told that they’re doing so well, that they’re perfect.

And Giselle is.

“Again,” you press into her neck, and she gives you the closest approximation to a nod that she can muster. “Again and again, I’ll make you cum until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget what it was ever like to not have my cock inside you.”

The nods come faster, insistent, following a whine as your fingers slide out of her cunt, all sticky with her juices. You bring it up to her, hold it in front of her face so she can see the mess she’s made of your hand.

Her breath hitches when she opens her eyes, catching sight of your glistening digits. You don’t even need to prompt her; she takes the initiative—she’s sucking your fingers without a second thought.

Moans when she tastes herself, sucking them clean, tongue flicking across your knuckles, pulling them into her mouth, relishing her own flavour.

“So fucking needy for it, aren’t you?”

You withdraw your fingers, enjoying the cry of protest at the loss, but you’ve got better plans for her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, before backing off completely, leaving Giselle empty, her legs wobbly.

You're quick to lose your clothes, stripping yourself off without much ceremony, tossing them aside with little care for where they end up.

And yet Giselle’s eyes rake over you, following your every move—she’s seen you before, you’ve caught her staring at your arms, your biceps, making no secret of assaulting you with her gaze at any chance she can get.

But now it’s the unbuckling of your belt, the vanishing of your jeans, the reveal of your cock. Springing free, hard and heavy.

Giselle wants it. Mouth salivating, pussy leaking at the sight of it. Oh, how she wants it.

It gives her energy, has her reaching out for a touch, a stroke. But you stop her, gently taking her wrist into your hand before she can make her Christmas wish come true.

She even has the audacity to pout. “Haven’t I been good?”

“Good?” You repeat, and you’re laughing. “You’ve been downright angelic.”

The pout quirks into a smirk, and there’s that familiar mischievous spark returning. “Then don't I deserve a little reward?” Giselle’s fingers go to her folds, spreading them apart. Putting her cunt on display, proud to show off how ready she is to be filled. “Like that big, beautiful cock of yours in my perfect little pussy?”

You don’t bother with the usual finesse, there’s no need for that. This doesn’t land anywhere on the normal spectrum of casual hook-ups to making love. This is about fucking. About need, raw and unfiltered.

“So, would you please—"

You’re yanking her by the waist before she can get started, lifting her off the bar and setting her down in front of you. There’s that thrill rushing through her, at being so easily handled, so effortlessly claimed.

She’s panting, breaths fogging up the air between you, waiting for your instruction.

“Get rid of the dress.”

Her compliance is instant—she steps out of her outfit, her panties. Until she’s just standing before you; the charm, the sex appeal, the big beautiful eyes all in view, so full of hope and desperation for the special kind of bliss only you can provide her.

Just Giselle, her fucking gift of a body in a pair of tight black stockings and high stiletto heels.

“Now,” you say, tilting your hips forward, your cock jabbing into her stomach, pressing a stamp of need into her skin. Giselle preens at the contact, practically vibrating at your touch. One more thing— “Beg.”

“Fuck me,” she says. Simply, honestly. With every ounce of her soul. “Fuck me good. Take me. Please. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. I’ve been dreaming of this, of you fucking me just like this, so—please, make it real.”

“Begging’s a good look on you, Giselle,” you murmur, finishing the rest of the thought in your head. ‘You're going to be doing a lot more of it tonight.’

She yelps when you flip her over, force her to brace herself against the bar. Her lovely ass high up in the air, her pussy drooling onto the floor.

You don't bother warning her.

You stuff your cock into her.

She fucking screams.

So wet, so slippery. Sliding in and out of her, forcing her cunt to mould itself too you. So fucking tight that you have to bite back a groan, have to fight the urge to just pound into her, to fuck her into the counter.

But there's still a pace you're setting, a rhythm that’s not quite as frantic as her needy cries. You’re in no hurry, not yet. You want to savour this. The feel of her clenching around you, the way her back arches with every thrust, her palms slapping against the bar top, leaving little smudges of sweat behind.

“God, this—” Giselle tries, but finds herself lost for words, unable to properly articulate just how good it feels to have you inside her. But the noises she makes—whimpers and gasps and moans and groans—speak volumes.

You complete the thought for her— “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You’re grunting, pressing your body to hers, nipping at her ear. Slurring these dirty thoughts like they're sweet nothings, these words of pure filth into her neck. “Love being fucked like this. Been waiting for it for so long. So goddamn desperate for it that you can’t even fucking talk.”

She’s fucking amazing. Not just the feeling—hot and tight and perfect—it’s the way she moves with you. Pure pleasure ricocheting through her, the slap of her ass against your hips, the sway of her tits underneath her, her cunt desperately trying to swallow you whole.

It’s her, her body, so alive and responsive and sensitive underneath yours. Taking your cock so deliciously, her cunt fluttering around like it’s trying to hold onto it, like it’s never going to let go.

“So, so fucking hard,” she’s found her voice, clawing back some level of composure. Enough to tense her cunt, squeeze her walls around you. Needing you to know every inch of her body, every inch of her pussy, needing you to know that it’s all yours for the taking. “God, it feels so good—doesn’t it? Fucking me here. Tell me. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m a good girl. Tell me you’re never going to be able to spend another second here without thinking of my pussy.”

You know she’s right, she’s leaving a part of herself here, branded into the very fabric of this bar that’s been your sanctuary. It has you pushing in deeper, a violent thrust of your hips, a little punctuation to drive her point home.

She swallows as you pick up speed, chokes on a half-formed moan—so, so fucking close. But you’ve only just begun.

Grabbing her hair, winding your fist in pink, pulling her up so she's forced to listen. The details on her face are all hazy, her makeups smudged from tears, from where she’s rubbed at her face, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. But that’s not how this goes. That’s not how any of this goes.

“You want to hear how good you’re being for me?” A harsh whisper for her, and it takes so much effort for her to just nod in response. “You want me to tell you all the filthy things I’m thinking? Everything that I’ve been dying to do to you?”

“Yes,” she pleads back. “Tell me, please—I need to hear it all.”

So you do. You lay it all on her. Every unfiltered, explicit thought you’ve had—every depraved fantasy that’s on the tip of your tongue whenever she’s around. You tell her all of it, how much of a whore you’re going to turn her into; how much of a slut you want to make her.

How this isn’t the last time. No, there’s going to be hours, days, weeks of this after.  Of you fucking her here, of her coming to you just to have another taste of your cock. It’s a revelation, a promise, and it fucking ruins her.

“Every single time you've walked into here, every single time you've sat across form me, I've thought about this," you're grunting now, giving in to the urgency that’s been building up in your chest, the pressure that’s been weighing on you for what feels like an eternity. “I’ve thought about bending you over this very bar. Making you beg for it, making you scream out my name when I fuck my cum into you. Making sure every single person out there knows that this cunt is mine to take whenever I fucking want.”

It’s so fucked, the effect that hearing all this has on her. The sound of your voice, your darkest desires, the harshness of your words, it’s all too much for her, it’s everything she’s ever wanted to be told.

You’re unlocking something in her, something she’s never admitted to anyone, not her closest friends, not her bandmates, not even herself. The way you speak to her, the way you’re treating her like a perfect little fuck doll—and you’re realising that maybe, just maybe, it’s because no one’s ever fucked her well enough to find out.

There’s no room here to be gentle, there’s no way in hell she’d ever want you to be. You tighten your grip in your hair, slam into her harder, skin slapping against skin, mixing with the wet sounds of her pussy taking all of you. Each cry you fuck out of her is music, each one a little higher pitched, a little more desperate than the last.

“This is what you want isn’t it?” You’re demanding of her, even when she’s blubbering, barely able to breathe let alone respond. Just trying to hold on.

But you’re not letting her.

You’re taking her to that place that’s beyond words, that’s beyond thought. The place where all she can do is feel and react. And she’s doing that so beautifully, her body shaking, her cunt quivering around your cock. It’s building and building, the things you’re doing to her, saying to her, making her choke on her own spit, making her eyes roll back and her mouth drop open, until all she can repeat, over and over again is your name.

“Again,” she shapes another word, another plea. She’s a total disaster of need. “Please, again, make me cum again.”

“You'll cum when I say you can,” you growl, forcing her to choke on another whine. The strangled noise goes straight to your cock; makes it throb harder inside her, drive deeper into her. You let go of her hair, only to palm her tit, squeezing into the flesh hard. Giselle jolts, a squeal escaping her lips. “But since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you cum before me again. Just this once. Just because it’s Christmas.”

You’re being evil, you know it, she loves it, but it's the best part. She clearly wouldn't want it any other way.

”Yes.” Giselle’s beaming, shivering with excitement. Getting fucked into utter ruins and thanking you for the privilege. “Thank you, use my pussy, do whatever you want, just let me cum.”

That sparks an idea, “Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want,” Giselle pants, not a single idea of what she’s agreeing to. But maybe that's the whole point. “Anything.”

There’s a grin that splits your face that you can’t help, that you don’t bother suppressing. “I’m not going to ask for permission anymore, Giselle. I’m just going to fuck you the way I want. Make you addicted to my cock. Take you how I want, cum in all your holes, fill you up over and over again.”

Giselle’s eyes go wide, nearly stops breathing entirely. So close. Knowing that the next words out of your mouth are going to decimate her completely.

“Gonna make you start the New Year knocked up.”

She freezes.

“God—” Giselle’s a fucking wreck, on the verge of something explosive, something else entirely. “Oh my God.”

She just needs you to give her that push.

“You love it, don’t you? Being made nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

You’re fucking her too hard, hammering into her too roughly, it’s a wonder that she can even manage a stuttered, “I—I—”

“Fucking say it, Giselle,” you say, “Spit it out.”

It’s too difficult for her to fit the words together, to form her reply, so it means all that more when she manages to tell you. “I want it.”

“Want what?”

“Your cum in me. All of it. Until I’m, until I’m—” She’s there, lost in it, in the idea of you ruining her in such a permanent, irreversible way. Or maybe completing her, making her whole, making her perfect for you and only you.

But you’re so close too. Right fucking behind her. All she has to do is say it.

“Until you breed me. Fill me with your cum, give it to me. I need it. Make me your permanent cocksleeve and never let me go. Make me yours—completely, forever yours. Make me your fucking whore.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Hits her like a fucking meteor. Leaping right off the most intense high she’s ever climbed. Bucking and quaking against your bar, your cock still impaled inside her, mercilessly undoing her. It’s nothing short of fucking pornographic, fucking depraved the way it’s destroying her.

Seizing her entire body in pleasure, her nails digging into the wood, scraping up marks that will prove to be a sweet, everlasting reminder of the exact moment she became yours. Fracturing her, breaking her apart into a million tiny pieces and then remaking her all over again as something purely sexual—something that only exists for your satisfaction.

“So fucking good, your cock, God it’s you, just you—” Giselle’s words dissolve into a keening cry that shatters the remaining silence of the bar. “Breeding me so good—”

Nothing short of a miracle that she’s still on her feet, that she can still do anything at all. One last thing she needs to do in the dying embers of her lucidity, one final goal—choke your cock with her cunt, wring you dry, make you flood her with your cum.

“Cum, cum, fill me, breed me, give me your—”

“Take it,” you exhale, “Take it all.”

And it’s Giselle in her entirety that overcomes you, overloading your senses with the pure, distilled feeling of just her. The smell of her sex, her perfume, the feel of her curves, her softness, the perfection that is her pussy, enveloping your cock, drenching it in her wetness. These things that you’ll never, ever be able to forget.

But it's her words that make you erupt.

“Breed me, Daddy!”

You cum deep into Giselle’s pussy.

Buried inside her, rushing white hot, thick and heavy. Ropes and ropes of it, spurting inside her, painting her insides, coating her walls until it’s just sheer heat and you making her whole.

Her cunt’s clenching around you, she’s begging, slurring moans and whimpers that there’s no fucking chance you have of comprehending—just basking in the knowledge that they’re desperate, needy sounds that are all for you.

She can’t keep it all in. But she needs to.

Something knocks the architecture out of her legs, but you’re quick enough to wrap your arms around her, holding her tight, keep her on her feet. Keeping her from collapsing entirely, just letting her pulse around you, clench and quiver.

You’re kissing her into the shoulder, cooing these affirmations, keeping her with you, telling her the truth of it all, “Such a good girl, Giselle. Taking my cum so well.”

Giselle can’t say anything. She sobs. Face buried in her hands. Not from pain, not even close. You’ve never seen pleasure look so much like agony. So much like release.

It’s overwhelming.

You try to make a move, take a step back. But Giselle flexes her cunt, clutching you tighter. Reaches back with her hand for your thigh to stop you.

“Wait,” she whispers. "Not yet. Don't move. Keep your cock inside me. Don't let a single drop get out."

You give her the time, because she’s just so perfect like this. So unfathomably gorgeous, all fucked up and cum-drunk. In ways no one should ever be. Like you’ve torn the wings off an angel, brought her down to Earth and made her yours.

You revel in it.

“Take your time,” you breathe; the exhaustion, the strain, the adrenaline pumping through your veins all coming to a head at once. Keeping your cock plugging up her cunt. Leaving all your cum inside.

Neither of you are moving anywhere. Not until she says so.

Giselle laughs.

“Perfect,” she sighs, voice hoarse and shaky. “I knew it would be perfect. I knew you would ruin me like this. God, I don’t ever want to go back.”

You’re laughing too, harsh, airless chuckles that feel like they’re being torn out of your chest. You twitch your cock inside her. “You think you have a say in the matter?”

“I guess I don’t,” she giggles.

You look around at the scene of the crime, the evidence you've left on her. The marks on her skin, her shoulder, her neck. The ruins of her dress, her panties. The tearing of her stockings. Her tear-filled eyes, her smeared mascara, her drooling lips.

And her cunt, so full of you, so very yours.

It’s barely believable. She may not have burned down the bar, but there’s certainly a fire that’s been set. One that’s not likely to die down anytime soon.

It has you swelling inside her all over again.

Gisele feels it.

“Say,” she starts, wriggling her hips against you, making you groan. “You didn’t have any Christmas plans, right?”

Your hands slip down to her hips, idly massaging into the small of her back. “None at all.”

Giselle’s laughter subsides into a contented exhale, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you with a soft smile. Her hand reaches back, caressing the side of your face. “And the rest of the year?”

“Nothing that can’t be cancelled.”

“Good,” she says, her breath sweet against your cheek. “Cancel them all. Close up for the holidays. Shut all the doors. Stay inside with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And do what?”

“Get to work,” Giselle answers, pulling you into a last kiss, threatening to undo you all over again. “You did promise to knock me up by New Years.”

[sscieloz]

Unnie’s sweet girl

Yu Jimin x Ning Yizhuo

Synopsis: Ningning is exhausted. Aespa’s 2024 schedule has been cramped for the entire year, and SM isn't of any help, with the way they keep fucking her over in every situation possible. She's stressed, overwhelmed, and upset. Thankfully, her unnie knows just what she needs to forget about all that.

Warnings: smut. breastfeeding. mentions of blood & anxiety. ning just needs to suck on some titties to feel better tbh that’s what this is about. you name it now

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: FIRST OF 2025!!! love that 😤😤

—

Ningning is exhausted. Aespa’s 2024 schedule has been cramped for the entire year. The girls spent months without a break, bouncing between practice rooms, award attendances, and airports no matter how exhausted they were. The price of being SM idols had hit them especially hard, this year— more than anything, the company keeps treating them like dolls. No breaks, no opinions, no excuses. They’re nothing but a form of profit, unable to do anything but obey orders and act like puppets 24/7.

It’s rough for all of them, naturally. Still, even though Karina, Minjeong, and Giselle are just as exhausted as she is, Ningning still gets it the roughest. All because of that bastard company— the one who went so out of their way to scout her back in China, with their xenophobia and misogyny. Their endless sabotaging will be the end of her, Ningning knows it.

SM’s sabotaging was starting to grow more obviou. It’s no news that they’ve cut her from brand deals, fan meetings, and fashion show appearances— even though Donatella's emails are frequent.

She wants Ning to be her it girl. It’s what she was born to be, the woman tells her. Ningning wants it so bad, too.

Frustration gnaws on her stomach, building up her throat until she’s so disgusted and disappointed with the company’s blunt xenophobic attitudes her entire body trembles, as she sweats and gulps in hopes this uneasy sensation will soon fade.

It doesn’t. Never does, for a fact. Yizhuo should be used to it, by now; it’s been weeks since she’s pretending not to notice her constant trembling, the way her hair keeps falling out despite not being bleached or trimmed in months, her clothes getting looser… being an idol is hard enough, with the amount of expectations and personas she’s supposed to live up to, and SM does an excellent job of making every second of Ningning’s life a living hell.

At least she knows she’s not alone in her miserable feelings. Just like Aespa’s members blossom together in every victory they get to celebrate, their struggles are rather similar. It’s easy to tell how they’re all barely pushing through: Minjeong’s body is covered in bruises, Giselle’s just recovered from an allergic reaction that is so bad her eyes are still puffy, even after weeks of treatment, and her coughing fits haven’t yet ceased. Karina is the only one who still seems somehow unharmed, pulling off their scrutinizing routine with a smile on her face.

Ningning knows she’s trying to keep it together so they won’t break, but it’s an unspoken truth that their bodies will soon give in if they don’t get some rest.

She was currently in bed, regretting her life choices after Giselle murmured a bland excuse and left their shared hotel room to stir off her own nerves on some other idol’s account. Not that Ningning minds it, of course. If anything, she’s envious. As much as she loves the rapper’s confidence to go have her fun and screw a bunch of idols whose identity she refuses to reveal to her bandmates, a part of Ningning also wishes for the guts to risk it all too. To allow herself to have some fun, just for one night.

Heaven knows how much she needs it.

Instead, Ningning’s boring self is entertained by her favorite TV show, Love island, in the company of her favorite plushies, the ones she takes with her everywhere, wondering when she became that lost in life.

Her sheets feel too hot. Ning’s sweating, even though the AC has been turned on for ages now. Suddenly, she can’t breathe. It’s too much, she can’t keep going like this. It hurts. The pain of existence hits her like a strong hit of wind, cutting through her chest and placing the heaviest burden on her heart. It infiltrates in her lungs, and she can’t breathe. Ningning’s hands go to her chest, trying to get the air she so desperately needs, but it does nothing to ease her suffocation.

There isn’t much she can do, then. Usually, Ningning would practice the exercises her therapist recommended to her, but her mind is currently too troubled to focus on anything but her agony. She chokes on air, pausing her the TV so she has at least something to occupy her hands with.

Thankfully, a knock on the door pushes the maknae’s darkest thoughts to the back of her mind. Ningning is soon presented to her leader’s smiley face, then, as the oldest enters her room without an invitation.

Not that she needs one, anyway. Karina is every bit of the perfect, caring girl she portrays herself to be on camera— she doesn’t need an invitation to her maknae’s bedroom. The leader always makes sure everyone around her is safe and cared for, often going out of her way to take care of others.

“Hi, Ningie,” Karina says, with a muffled voice as the youngest hugs her with a strength that is nearly suffocating. She doesn’t mind, though. If anything, Karina chuckles, trying to hug her back despite having both of her hands busy. “I thought you looked a bit down today, so I brought some snacks to cheer you up.”

In the older girl’s arms, Ningning melts. As always, Karina always knows what her members need, sometimes before they do so themselves.

Ning buries her head on the crook of Karina’s neck, pliable in the girl’s arms. She’d accept everything Karina suggested, eager to please her leader.

“Thank you, ‘Rina.” She murmurs, still clinging onto Karina’s neck like a koala. There are no complaints— instead, steady arms circle her waist and the maknae is urged up, locking her legs around Karina’s waist as the leader carries her to bed like she weighs nothing.

To avoid the leader’s worried gaze, Ningning gets busy with arranging the snacks the older girl had gotten for them once Karina delicately places her down on the bed. If the leader took as much as a glance at Ningning, she’d be able to see right through her. And the last thing the maknae wants is to be vulnerable like that.

She could handle herself, just like she’s always done.

Yet it’s hard to not fall apart when the eldest adjusts herself next to her and brings her closer until there’s barely room for air, as they cuddle and watch a random couple have clothed sex on the TV. As much as Karina frowns at Ningning’s choice of entertainment, she doesn’t comment on it.

Ning’s starved. It’s always like that when the leader is present; a few words of validation, some head pats thrown around and she’s sold, completely surrendered to the idol’s mercy.

A mess, that’s what she is— mostly one of the consequences of being thrown around to the public as soon as she could walk. In her 22 years of life, she’s attended so many survival shows and singing competitions that work became more than just a part of her routine, it defined her entire self. After some time coping with her feelings, Ningning came to understand that her lonely life led her to be touch-deprived to an embarrassing amount. She craved people’s recognition, their praises, and most of all, their uttermost affection.

Usually, this desperate need of hers would be carefully hidden in a quiet, obscure corner of her brain. But Ningning can’t help it, at the moment. Not when her unnies’ validation hit so deep.

Instead of being annoyed with the maknae’s clinginess, Karina sighs, brushing her thumb against Ningning’s mouth. Her lips are bruised and sensitive, but because it’s Jimin, she doesn’t mind.

Karina can do to her as she pleases.

“Ningie…” Her voice is low, almost as if she’s afraid Ningning would break. To avoid that, the maknae invites her in with an open mouth. As if they were made for that, Karina’s lithe fingers slide easily, depriving her of any clear thoughts. “I thought you had that handled. Have you been going to therapy?”

It’s Ningning’s turn to be annoyed. She moves her head abruptly, choosing to focus on her balcony’s view instead of Karina’s worried gaze. “You know we don’t have time for that, Jimin. Or for anything else.”

Anxiety is a fairly common disorder. It’s hard not to be so anxious about everything when they’re constantly overstimulated from the time they wake up until they go to sleep. Because of that, Ningning would often be caught chewing on her lips or biting her nails until they bled, in hopes of calming herself off from her overwhelming mind. During better days, her unnies used to tease her nervous mouth— she just had to have something to occupy herself with, in order to calm down.

Fortunately, her therapist had helped her find better alternatives to her harmful tendencies. With time, Ningning started to feel better and less anxious in her daily life. So she decided to discharge herself from her sessions.

It was obviously a dumb decision. Not that she would ever admit it, much less in front of her leader, who’s already so worried about all of them.

Although Karina doesn’t judge her. She never does, for a fact. The leader has seen Ningning in her darkest moments, helped her through panic attacks, bathed her drunk self, and sang her to sleep so many times the maknae couldn’t even count. They’ve laughed, cried, and gone through nearly everything together. Karina knows Ning’s issues, likes, dislikes, and preferences more than Ning does so herself. She knows what the maknae wants— or better, what Ningning needs.

There wasn’t anything she could possibly hide from her bandmate, leader, and most loyal friend.

“My poor baby.” Karina pouted, as if the mere thought of Ningning being uncomfortable was enough to leave her twice as upset. “You’re so stressed, aren’t you? Those months have been tough, for sure. Don’t worry about anything now, though. Unnie’s going to take care of you.”

No other word was necessary to know the comfort Ningning needed.

With eased practice, Karina unclasps the hook of her bra, getting rid of her shirt soon after. It’s hard not to stare at her bare torso; Aespa’s leader is perfect in every way, especially with her pristine skin and her big, perky breasts, begging to be touched, adored. Her gentle hands guide Ningning’s mouth to her nipple, smiling faintly at the maknae’s eagerness.

It’s a routine they’ve done a few times, before, so both of their moves are precise and forward rather than awkward or uncertain, even.

Ningning’s worried, troublesome thoughts vanish within seconds, and her content hums send a shiver straight to Karina’s core. Although the feeling is promptly ignored, so she can focus on the needy, whiny girl on her lap. It’s time to take care of her baby girl, only.

Drool leaks from the maknae’s mouth, desperate as always to have her leader’s big, juicy tits all to herself. Ningning’s own clit pulsates as she suckles on Karina’s breasts, tracing circles around her areola with her tongue before gently nibbling on her nipple.

“That’s it, baby girl. Take as much time as you need.” Karina reassures the maknae, running her pointy nails through Ning’s scalp in a gentle caress. “I’m always here to take care of you.”

Even though Ningning knows there’s no need to be exasperated, a part of her can never help it. Not when Karina uses that soothing tone, the one reserved for the times when the youngest is feeling the most vulnerable, craving attention. It melts her completely; Ningning’s panties are soaked as she attempts to get Karina’s entire breast to fit in her mouth.

How pathetic she must look: so small and vulnerable, latched onto her leader’s body, so messy the gushy sounds of her mouth surpass the TV noise. These are the times when Ningning’s reminded of how much taller and stronger than herself Karina actually is, even though the eldest rarely flexes or comments on it.

In fact, she gets rewarded for her mess with a laugh from Karina, which deepens the heat in her core. Small acts of validation have always affected the most— like the subtle glances the leader would sometimes send in her direction, when Ningning aced a difficult part of their choreography, or even small moments like the current one, with a laugh or a brush of fingers on Ning’s skin.

It’s always more enough to get her on fire.

Yizhuo loses track of time, lost in the paradise Karina offers her. At some point, the leader holds her chin and guides her mouth to her other nipple, but other than that, the maknae is content on emptying her brain’s thoughts just as she had been told. Soon enough, she’s too hot, bothered by the aching feeling in her cunt to keep suckling any longer. Ningning’s pussy is throbbing, pulsating as she rocks herself against the older girl’s lap for some relief.

While it does work— the friction between her clit and panties is much welcomed, Yizuho still wants more. So she moans, loud and clear as her fingers make their down inside the leader’s toned abdomen to announce Karina’s tits are no longer enough.

“Unnie…” She whimpers, looking at Karina through her lashes. She knows how Karina likes her the most, and there’s nothing more she likes to do but please her leader. “Unnie, please. Touch.”

Ningning’s last words are rushed, as impatient as her unsettlement in between Karina’s thighs. It’s not her fault, obviously. If anything, it’s solely Karina’s, for spoiling her rotten. The maknae’s hands flutter to her arms, then to her neck, placing kisses on the corner of Karina’s mouth for what it feels like an eternity.

“Are you all messy, my love? Do you want my help, is that it?” Karina’s voice is drenched in fake nonchalance, adoring the lost gaze in her maknae’s eyes.

She grabs Ningning’s hand, taking her time as she kisses Ningning’s ruined nails, unaffected by the dry blood beneath their skin from how much they’re picked on.

There’s only one thing Karina likes to do more than giving Ningning everything she wishes: making her beg. Getting Yizhuo’s pretty knees bruised from the time spent on her knees is Jimin’s favorite activity, indulging her brattiness until all that’s left are pretty lips and obedient aura, greedy and ready to be played with like a doll. It’s an opportunity she waits eagerly for.

But Ningning had been so stressed lately… She spent so many weeks bottling up her feelings, and made sure to use her manners and address Karina with the honorifics she usually refuses to use, arguing that they’ve already gotten past the need of formal language.

Who’s Karina to deprive her of anything?

One small, shy nod from Ningning and the leader is ready to grant all her wishes.

After helping the maknae out of her pajama shorts, Karina’s knuckles brush her pussy through her panties. There’s a wet spot on her entrance, one Yizhuo closes her legs to cover after she feels Karina’s burning gaze on her pussy.

“Look at how wet you are just from sucking on my tits, Ningie.” Karina grips Ningning’s thighs, preventing the maknae’s to do so as she murmurs, enamored with the sight of her beautiful girl. “I guess you must really like them. Do you, baby?”

Ningning nods with enthusiasm this time, rocking against the girl’s fingers in hopes of being touched.

Still, her answer doesn’t satisfy her unnie enough. Pushing Yizhuo’s panties aside, Karina slaps her pussy twice before gathering some slick and circling the maknae’s clit, shushing her whines with a quick kiss.

“I’d like an answer, Ning.” Karina’s too soft on her. Even with the subtle reprimand, the leader doesn’t stop touching her cunt.

Doesn’t stop building up the familiar knot in her lower abdomen, the one who makes Ningning so driven by lust she can’t even see past the little black dots that adorn her vision.

Ning’s answer comes in heavy pants, and she’s encouraged to rock her bare pussy against Karina’s hand, this time. “Yes! Yes, I love it unnie. Your tits are the best, I love to suck on them. I’d do it all the time if you’d let me— ah!”

Karina adds a finger to Ningning’s soaked entrance, loving the way she’s so responsive to her touches. The action sends joints through Ningning’s body, making her grasp loudly as Karina enters her deeply.

“More fingers, unnie.” She tests the waters, biting her lips to keep herself from smiling when Karina raises her eyebrows in response. “Please?”

Yizhuo’s good manners are rewarded with two of Karina’s fingers. They slide in easily, thrusting in and out with swift motions on her soaked slit. The sudden invasion erupts a burning sensation that mixes up deliciously with pleasure, so good it’s addicting.

“That’s my sweet girl.” Karina praises, using her free hand to grab and pinch Ningning’s nipples beneath her tank top. “Always so good for unnie. You’re perfect in everything you do, Ningie. Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now. So sexy…”

Yizhuo is absolutely sure she’s going to explode. Karina’s words, along with her fingers and the wet kisses she places the maknae’s shoulders are more than enough to send her to the edge. She feels her orgasm coming up embarrassingly fast, her inner walls tensing up to prepare for the overbearing feeling.

Her leader feels her clench too, and smiles even more.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl.” Karina tells her, using her thumb to play with the maknae’s clit just how she knows Ningning likes it.

The effect is immediate: with a high cry, Ningning orgasms, holding onto Karina as her legs tremble furiously throughout her orgasm. She loves the sensation: the heat of her body feeling tingly all over, working its way down through her lower abdomen until she’s left panting, lightheaded from pleasure.

“No more, unnie.” She whines when the leader’s fingers doesn’t stop moving inside her. When her attempts of leaving Karina’s lap are unsuccessful, Ningning resumes to grabbing her bandmate’s wrist. “’M too sensitive. No more.”

Karina laughs, giving in to Ningning’s wishes as the maknae buries her face onto her neck once again. “Okay, okay. No more.” She runs her hands up and down the maknae’s back, soothing her until she’s calm again. “You were so good for me, Ning. Truly unnie’s sweet girl.”

Although she can’t see Yizhuo’s face, Karina is positive her bandmate’s face is all red, flushed with embarrassment as if she weren’t cumming all over her fingers moments ago.

“Thank you, unnie.” Ningning murmurs, kissing Karina’s cheek as she leaves her lap this time. Karina merely shakes her head, grabbing the maknae’s chin as she places a chaste, gentle kiss on her lips instead.

What an honor it was, to be the one to make Ningning cum all over. Karina adored her maknae, and she’d gladly do anything to make sure Ningning was happy and well.

“You do know I’m here for everything, right? Please don’t shut yourself off for any of us, Ningie. We just want to help you.”

She’s worried about her, naturally. Ningning knows that no matter what happens, her bandmates will always view her as the awkward, shy trainee they met years ago.

They don’t need to worry, though. With them by her side, Ningning feels strong enough to go overcome all of her demons and difficulties.

“I know, ‘Rina.” Is what she tells her unnie, instead. After they get their clothes back on, Ningning clings onto her again, opening one of the snacks as Karina turns up the TV’s volume. “I love you. Thank you for being here, always.”

Karina hugs her with full strength, laughing when Ningning complains about the lack of air. “I love you too, baby. You’re unnie’s sweet girl, ok? I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Love island’s drama soon catches their attention, and they spend hours lost on the reality show, in a warm bubble. Ningning doesn’t even recall the anxiousness she felt earlier, and another feeling takes place in her chest as she realizes how lucky she is to have someone to take care of her.

Love.

[dollfacedsl1ut]

Thoughts about ghostface aespa with sprinkles of g!p ?

!ghostface g!p! Aespa let’s talk about it….. this is the !nice fem popular reader version you can ask for the other one and I’d post it maybe..

a/n : ik there’s gonna be some type of typos AND IM SORRRRY SPARE ME PLEASE

content : murder (shocker), panty stealing, yandere themes, smut, mentions of a fivesome, the jock leaves reader for a rando.., unconsenual recording, reader gets leaked to the jock, groping, sexual corruption??, overall idk what this is you don’t either so yeah..

All members of aespa are in college and had their fair share of people they hated and wanted dead it didn’t matter who you were If you did something that angered them you were on the hit list which rounds up to 95% of the school especially the popular kids (they hated them so much) expect you, to them you were a actual person who didn’t care about luxury brands and cars or about drama / who was fucking who’s boyfriend while they were away to them you had a pure and innocent mind which made this attraction to you grow

It started off with stalking and obsessions to breaking in your dorm whilst you’re in classes maybe if they’re lucky enough you’ll be sleeping they stole various of things from miniature accessories you owned to clothing such as panties and bras..yeah you noticed stuff going missing but you just though you misplaced them or they got lost whilst you took trips to the communal laundry mat…

But one day there was a Halloween college party at a cabin in the woods, everyone was invited so everyone was there, the aespa girls took this as a good opportunity to start their killing spree.. the kill started off good they got rid of the people who would be missed by a minimal amount of people they enjoyed hearing their cries and their begs for forgiveness it just drove them too kill more that night but once you arrived it was like a switch flipped in their brains instead of their murderous mood they were more hyper and eager..

Their eyes scanned over your body looking at the way your costume hugged your curves the coils even see the out line of your panties, if they looked close enough they could tell you weren’t wearing a bra. The happy mood they once had flipped again once they seen who you brung, the jock that had the worse attitude and bullied people who didn’t have the latest car model needless to say they were pissed that you brung him out of everyone else on campus he was the worse guy you could’ve picked and they weren’t happy with you they were gonna make sure you never bring someone who isn’t them to another party..

They watched you and the jock the whole time, every single time you giggled, and felt uncomfortable by his sick jokes, but when he dismissed himself to “piss” they knew it was the perfect time for his death as well, the funny thing was he didn’t have too piss he was fucking another girl in the outdoor bathroom although they wanted to kill him there they wanted to make him feel overwhelmed with emotions so that’s when they finally approached you, you were scrolling on your phone drinking out of a red cup, the conversation was the best one you’ve had in years y’all had so much in common which turned you on although they haven’t showed their faces yet it was a turn on to have things in common it was Giselles idea to go to the bedroom to further explore this attraction..

Once y’all reached the bedroom it just felt like your panties were soaked right that minute the way their hands wondered on your body, the soft touches on your plush thighs, although you’ve never had a fivesome before you wanted to make this work the, sensations of them stretching you out felt so good you’ve never came this fast when you had sex but the way their cock filled you up so nicely you overall had the best experience besides the sounds of camera clicks you weren’t sure if that was your imagination or not you were too horny to be bothered with it, your body was sore and tired after it was finished you just wanted to take a quick nap, Karina and winter being the ones to wash you down and Giselle and ningning getting ready to send the videos and pictures of your sexual encounter with them to the jock,..

After you were sleeping soundly they knew it was time to start their next kill The Jock, after the recordings were sent to the jock they left kisses on your face Giselle might’ve left a slap on your ass and Karina might’ve groped your tits but it’s not like you would care much, the burner phone they used to send the pictures to the jock was ringing with messages angry to ones pleading for you to meet up with him so they did just that, He was pacing around in the back yard with his phone in his hand replaying the video just to hear your soft moans ring in his ears, they could tell he just finished fucking yet another girl and it seemed like you were the next, his pants were unzipped as his cock poked from between the hole in his boxers, They stood in the shadows until they eventually pounced on him ningning pinned his hands to ground as Giselle held down his legs, Karina replayed the sex tape over and over as the jock cried he knew they were the ones that fucked you and slutted you out the video replaying in his head even if the phone was no longer in his vision he couldn’t help it but feel blood rush to his dick watching you get fucked by 4 people at once wishing it was him and his friends fucking you instead, abusing your tight holes then leaving you alone crying and sore but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore to anyone he felt his body going numb as Karina cut into his chest blood gushing on the grass it just made them smile seeing yet another pathetic person being humbled but he wasn’t the first one they needed this to happened too and he certainly wasn’t gonna be the last..

[lyrenminth]

The one who got away

Angst. Fwb situation with Justin.

In another life

I would be your girl

We keep all our promises

Be us against the world.

You didn't know how it began. These dirty feelings for him. The way your heartbeat increases watching him making you a sandwich after fucking the life out of you. It was unnatural, unwanted, unexpected.

It was unreasonable knowing damn well you weren't ready for a relationship. But you enjoyed the way the treated you, how smooth his skin was, how strong he was not having a problem fucking you standing up, how his hips connected with yours and how raspy and masculine his hands felt while touching your body.

And you didn't want to think about the other side. The side it that made your mind betray every rational thought. The side that made you dream of a house with a beautiful garden and little children with blond hair and slint eyes running all over the place. The side that made your heart hurt.

You had your life's plan already and that never include a 6'6 athletic man in the mix, and for once you wanted to follow your path after fighting for a ounce of independence with your family. You could hear Meg voice telling you "don't lose your mind for a dick" and she knew better than you in many aspects.

But you looked at him, all focused cutting the sandwich in a perfect half (like you like it) and pouring grape juice (your favorite) in a tall glass. You knew it was a dangerous territory to have this family dynamics with him, but you couldn't stop.

And Justin looked like he didn't want either. You saw each other at least twice a week, only to undress each other, but everything started when he asked to stay a little more time. Suddenly, you were having deep conversations about football and your deeply dislike of mac-and-cheese. Sharing silly stories from your childhoods, those he would never share with the media.

The mistake of Justin was paying attention to you like he actually care. And you mistake was believe that he actually care.

Now you were pondering in that horrible and hurtful question: are we fuck buddies or something else? And the answer was unclear for you too. Because you can't...you must not like him.

Your dreams were first. You were first. You traveling schedule, your clothing brand, your goal of becoming someone important by your own right. Having Justin in that equation with his almost-celebrity status tainted your purpose. You weren't Gisele Bündchen.

"Here you have" he said, giving you your plate and sitting next to you. He made two sandwiches for himself, you knew how much he liked to eat. He was a big foodie just like you.

You still felt the spams in your core, the emptiness of something missing. It was to early to fuck again? Your libido with him was always high. How annoying.

"Thank you" you started eating avoiding looking at his beautiful face.

"I was wondering if you are going to stay in LA for the next week?" he asked, cleaning his lips with a napkin.

"Yeah, I leave in two weeks" you put your sandwich down, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to punch yourself. "Why?"

"Umm" he played with his napkin. Was he nervous? "I got an extra ticket for the game, and if you want it it's yours"

You frowned. How agressive were those damn butterflies?

"Someone in your family can't go?" it must be. It has to be.

"Yeah, something like that" he looked at you, and your eyes went to his lips as usual.

"We say no public sightings" it was a rule he proposed. "Technically, we are not going to be together" he said.

Stay true to yourself. You can deal with a broken heart, you can't live his ways. Stay true to yourself. Love come and goes.

You bit your lip, and lower your gaze. It was your fault for allowing these interactions. The truth was you were scared, you didn't want to lose yourself but you enjoyed his company.

"What do you say?" his tone was so kind and hopeful that made you want to run away and throwing yourself at him in happiness. All at the same time.

You didn't want to know how he felt about you. Maybe he was in love, maybe he wasn't.

You sighed, not hungry anymore. You turned around to face him.

"Justin, I can't" it was the truth, it was the painful truth. "I can't go to your games, and I can't keep doing this" you move your hand between your bodies "I-um...I-" you gasped for air, feeling the knot in your throat "We agree this was something casual"

Maybe in another life. In another moment of your life. But not that night.

"I know" was all he said, frowning.

"Then, let's keep it casual, ok?"

"Yeah" he sounded sad? It was your imagination.

"I mean...I don't want to catch feelings and going to your games and all that stuff" your shake your head "It's going to erase the lines. I need the lines, Justin"

"Okay"

"Maybe we need a time apart too" he laughed without fun at you proposal "I don't want to catch feelings" you repeated "And you have tons of choices, I mean there are girls throwing themselves at you. You aren't going to starve" you joked trying to light the mood.

Then you saw how he closed himself. His expression hardened and you swore his eyes lost all shine.

"If that's what you want" he said, serious.

I don't know what I want, dumbass.

"It's what I need"

He only nodded. Yup, he was mad. But why? He started cleaning the table, you noticed he didn't eat much too.

"I'm going to call an Uber" you stated, understanding he didn't want you there, you started looking for you phone.

"It's too late. I'm gonna take you to your house" he declared.

It's something you liked about him, he could be mad but he wasn't an asshole.

"You don't have to" you find your purse, and took out your phone.

"Don't argue with me. It's late, it's dangerous. I know you don't want to spend more time with me but at least let me take you to your house so I know you're safe" he sounded bitter, and sad.

Wow. You stopped what you were doing only to look at him. He turned around, avoiding your gaze, like looking at you was unbearable.

"Thank you" you whispered.

The car ride was silent. And you were doubting your decisions. Maybe it was too soon? Too harsh? When you building complex appeared in sight you were about to cry. Why? You were the one who asked for it. You looked at his hands, his strong thighs and his stern look...oh.

"Thank you for the ride" you said, clenching to your purse. A heavy energy settle between both. You noticed he was holding tight the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

"You're welcome"

"Thank you for everything" he shook his head slightly at your words. His Adam's apple moving up and down. "Good luck for the rest of you seasons. I truly believe you are a great athlete, and you must be proud of yourself"

He took a deep sigh. "You don't have to do this" he declared, you heart sank "Good night"

And that's how you knew it was over.

"Bye"

In the next month you spend trying to get rid of him. You told your friend to help you to keep your mind free of him. You avoid watching his games, or being closer to anything related to him. It was relatively easy since you never went public with him. But the ache you felt made you sleepless and weak. You cried whole nights, realizing that you miss him. His scent, his dry sense of humor, his warm body, his hugs after sex, how good he made you feel.

Your dreams were the only thing you clinched for dear life. It was the reason you took that decision. Somehow, you didn't find it enough at that moment.

The nail in the coffin was to block his number and unfollow him from social media. After that you become a workaholic, traveling here and there, meetings with others brands, designing new clothes. Efficiency was your second name.

Everything was falling into place, but during some nights you would miss him. The sex, the intimacy. You had to fight against some actions, including stalk him or watch interviews. It was bad because he was a quarterback, face of a franchise. One Subway commercial and you were ready to unblock him. It was pathetic.

You were too stubborn to call him. To admit it. To give a second chance. And you had to learn to live without him.

Because you were the one afraid. The one who got away.

[curiousascuriouscanbe]

That's how you knowwwwwww he loves youuuuu - that's how you knowww he's yourssss

Mini ramble

The part of Enchanted where Giselle turns the curtains into a dress is so Evelyn Coded!! Evelyn is a very, very resourceful person and very handy at sewing. And, fun fact! The blue tartan fabric that makes up the ribbon on her book hat has been in her family for two generations, as this resourcefulness was passed down from parent to child.

I can just imagine March trying to toss out old clothes or something of the sort, and Evelyn goes, "No wait!!", takes them, and comes back with something brand new and spiffy.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate have decided to move in and officially begin their life together. He checked out of the inn where he had been staying for the final time and packed his belongings into a trunk. In this chapter, the two of them unpack, and Sebastian tells Kate all about his family as they view old portraits.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter doesn't have any smut, but there is a discussion about using an excessive amount of potions to sleep/escape trauma and recounting memories of lost loved ones.

Art credits: @hogwartslegacypics provided the screenshot in the background, and @giselsann-opencommissions perfectly depicted these mischievous little munchkins. Giselle is an absolute pleasure to work with and has provided all of the drawings for the story. I cannot recommend her enough if you're looking to commission some art!

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

It’s well past lunch time, and Kate hurriedly puts together a lunch of roast turkey sandwiches with crunchy carrots and cucumbers on the side. At the table, Sebastian absolutely wolfs it all down, and she has to put together an additional serving for him.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to Feldcroft, yes?” Kate asks. “We’ll visit the cemetery, and perhaps you can show me where you lived.”

A sensation of panic erupts inside of him. “I don’t think we should actually go into Feldcroft. I… I’m not sure that the villagers will be friendly to me. Surely, they all know what happened to my uncle.” He imagines apparating there, watching anxiously as Feldcroft’s inhabitants begin to whisper to each other warily, close their doors quickly, perhaps even summon a local Auror out of fear. His heart couldn’t take it. “We should just visit the cemetery. It’s far enough outside of town that we shouldn’t encounter others. I don’t want to… cause a commotion or involve you in a difficult situation.”

Kate studies him and accepts his suggestion. “I guess we’ll avoid the Floo network and apparate, then.” 

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence as they finish their meals. 

“Let me take care of the clean-up,” Sebastian offers, standing and gathering the plates.

“Thanks, dear. In that case, I’ll just be outside with the laundry.”

When Kate eventually returns, she finds Sebastian on the loveseat, engrossed in one of the books she had nicked for him from the Hogwarts library. Flicking her wrist to magically turn on the gramophone, she and Sebastian both smile as soft music begins to play. She continues on her way to the bedroom to fold the clothes and put them all away. 

“I’ll help you in a little while. I just want to finish this chapter,” he calls out.

Several minutes later, Sebastian enters the room and finds Kate a bit flustered. It was simple to put her laundry away, but she doesn’t know where to put any of his garments. Together, they conduct a magical extension charm to construct a closet, and Kate transfigures two wooden bowls into doors. He comes to a happy realization - this spell isn’t one that can be taken back, and she hadn’t had any second thoughts about creating the space for him.

Sebastian levitates his trunk into the bedroom, and little by little, everything gets placed in his brand-new closet. Some of his clothing has seen significant wear and tear, and Kate makes a mental note to try to mend some of the items when he is at work next week. 

Though he had previously warned Kate that he didn’t have much, she is still surprised to see that it was not necessary for Sebastian to magically extend it. The bulk of its contents were clothing; the rest, now, are miscellaneous items like his broom, razor, toiletries, a case filled with various potions, several dragonhide-bound journals, a quill and ink pot, and some old photographs, which Kate requests to view later. 

In the bathroom, Kate organizes the potions, adding them to her own store, organized by type. Some are new additions to her potions cabinet: his contraceptive potion, an invigoration draught, and a few antidotes for poisons and ailments. Kate is familiar with but has never seen such a large quantity of Wiggenweld potions, sleeping draughts, and Dreamless Sleep potions. She eyes them curiously as Sebastian enters the room. 

He immediately stiffens upon noticing what is left in his potions case and tries to distract her. “What shall we do for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll decide later,” she answers quickly, then studies his face as she asks, “Sebastian… do you typically not sleep well?”

The chestnut-haired man hesitates, not wanting to admit the truth - that he uses the potions as a crutch to avoid being plagued by insomnia, nightmares, and the phantoms of his past. “Well…”

“We’ve been sleeping together for almost a full week now, and I’ve never noticed you having any difficulties, so why do you have all of these draughts?” His eyes dart around, avoiding her gaze. “Seb… I need to know these things. We’re going to live together now. Someday, we’ll be married.” She takes his hand. “Please tell me. It’s alright. You can be vulnerable with me.”

Sebastian sighs in resignation. “You’re right... I should be honest with you. It’s just… difficult to talk about.” He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I struggle to sleep. I have frequent nightmares and night terrors. When I’m alone with my thoughts and can’t fall asleep, I can’t help but relive the past - all of my mistakes, what I experienced in Azkaban, what I’ve had to do for the Kelpies… It’s so hard to manage it all. The draughts are my way of… well, avoiding further misery. I… In truth, I- I rely on them heavily.”

Nodding solemnly, she considers her words carefully. “Anyone in your place might struggle, love. You and I… together, we are going to get you some help from a Mind Healer. Using sleeping potions so often isn’t…” She trails off, unsure of how to say what she means without offending him.

“I know it isn’t healthy,” he admits quietly. “But other than sleeping with you lately, nothing else works. At least my sleep is undisturbed when I take them. I have to be able to function during the day…” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly distressed and starting to panic. His voice becomes shaky, his words spilling out quickly. “Look, K- Kate… I- I understand if you think it’s t- too much to deal with. You don’t have to stay with me - you don’t-”

“Seb, sweetheart - no.” Kate brings his hand to her chest, slipping it under her blouse and placing it over her heart. “Do you feel that - my heartbeat?”

He nods shakily as his fingers tremble. He closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin.

Kate gazes into his eyes, speaking calmly and seriously. “My heart beats… for you, Sebastian. I’m here to stay. It’s not too much for me, I promise. We will get help for you. I just need you to be open to the help.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slowly start to relax, but his hand remains over her heart. “I’ll try,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll t- try to be open to help. For you. For us. I don’t want to keep living like this. I… really do want to get better.” 

She reaches up to caress his cheek. 

There is a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Being with you… already makes me feel safer, more at peace than I’ve felt in the past decade.” He inhales and exhales slowly as a calming mechanism. “I- I’ll do whatever it takes to get better.”

“I believe you. Just remember, I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me anything.”

The two of them return to the bedroom and finally move the trunk, still containing various miscellaneous items, inside the closet.

“Now, can you show me those pictures?” Kate asks eagerly, grinning. She settles herself on the bed, sitting up and clutching a pillow against her abdomen. 

“Sure,” he replies, opening the trunk once more to fish out the photographs. He holds them close to his chest, as though they are precious and fragile. Before revealing them to her, he explains, “When I got out of Azkaban, I accessed my parents’ old vault in Gringotts. There wasn’t much there - certainly no money or valuables. Just a few mementos that Solomon couldn’t sell. I found these portraits and some journals that had my parents’ research.” He lays the pictures on the bed upside down, and then goes back into the trunk to retrieve some of the books, also placing them on the bed.

“What exactly did they research?”

Sebastian smiles, exhaling through his nose as he sits down next to his girlfriend. “Just about everything. They were experts in their fields. My da taught Magical Theory at Hogwarts, and my mum taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. They both researched heavily - especially during summers. Before they died, my mum was studying…” He grabs one of the blue notebooks, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Well, her work is quite varied. Healing Muggle children from werewolf attacks, non-traditional teaching methods for nonverbal offensive and defensive spells, and… erm… the Unforgivable curses.” He pauses, clearing his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“So… your mum was also interested in the Dark Arts,” Kate notes.

“It was her job,” Sebastian quickly responds. “She had to know all about them. She… She and my da… they didn’t look at Dark magic as completely bad… just as regular magic is not always completely good.”

Kate nods, feeling as though she’s put him on defense. She tries to make up for it. “I suppose that is true.”

“My da traveled often for his research. He actually… believe it or not, studied reincarnation at one point in India. In fact…” Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “I should read his journals again, now that we know about our past lives. Perhaps I could pick up his research where he left off…” He trails off, looking thoughtful and determined, before continuing on. “My mum and da teamed up at times, too. They focused a lot on defensive magical theory and trying to find an engaging way to teach it to students. They also spent a good deal of effort… researching love as a form of magic in its purest form.” He smiles. “You know… they were… honestly, madly in love.”

Sebastian reaches over to the photographs and flips the first one over. Kate grins, her eyes scanning over every little detail. It’s clearly a portrait of his parents on their wedding day. Sebastian is the spitting image of his mother, who appears to have lots of freckles and soft curls. Her wedding gown is fashionable for the era; she wears a veil and carries a simple bouquet of roses and baby’s breath. His father has dark hair with a mustache and beard, and he holds and gazes at his wife in complete adoration. They look so cheerful.

“I remember how they would read together at night, holding hands,” Sebastian murmurs. “They’d whisper sweet words to each other, and much to my dismay as a young lad, they would kiss often. They supported each other fervently, and they loved working together. Our house in Aranshire was filled with books, and the cellar was their official workspace. Anne and I were told that if they were in the cellar, they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.”

Kate reaches out to touch Sebastian’s hand. “That’s so sweet. How did they meet?”

“At Hogwarts,” Sebastian answers with a grin. “They were academic rivals. My mum was in Ravenclaw, and my da was in Slytherin. They had classes together over the years, and they were always competing for top marks. Supposedly, it all changed when they were assigned to work on a yearlong project in Potions class their seventh year, and they realized how similar they actually were and became friends… and then, it turned into love. When they graduated, they got married straight away. Anne and I didn’t come along until quite some time later.”

“Do you think their Potions professor put them together as partners on purpose?” Kate giggles. “I feel like I would do something like that if I was a teacher… just to see what happens. The drama. But I can’t imagine Professor Sharp, for example, ever doing such a thing…”

Sebastian laughs at the thought. “No way would Sharp do that.”

“What was your mum’s name?” Kate asks.

“She was Selina Ware,” he replies. “She had a brother, but he died in his twenties in a work accident, so I never met him. The entire Ware family line - they all passed away before I was born. That’s why Anne and I were forced to live with Solomon, my da’s brother.” He looks into the distance, stony-faced.

“Hey. Let’s focus on the good.” Kate squeezes his hand. “Leave your uncle out of it. Don’t let the bastard weasel into your happy memories. I’ve heard enough about him to know I would have hated him.” 

Sebastian laughs out loud, surprised by her reaction, and he leans over to kiss her cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you.” 

The next picture is one of Anne and Sebastian as young children, likely around seven years old. Kate grins in delight as she sees their coordinated sailor-type outfits. Both of them look incredibly mischievous - Anne more so than her brother. She has a cheeky smile on her face and a slingshot in hand. Sebastian carries a book - no surprise there.

“Oh gods, you were adorable!” Kate coos. “Look - you were missing a tooth! And your hair was so curly…”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, my mum could never get my hair to behave. It was always out of control. Honestly, my hair’s always been like that. Now, I just keep it shorter, and it seems to be more manageable that way.”

Kate looks even closer at the photograph, examining the setting. “Where was this taken?”

“In front of our house in Aranshire,” Sebastian answers. 

“Seb… If our children are even half as cute as you were, I’ll never be able to say no to them,” Kate murmurs. “And Anne - what a beauty! And how interesting - her hair doesn’t look curly at all…”

“She took after our da,” Sebastian explains. “My mum never had a problem putting her hair into braids or other styles. It was always my hair that was the issue.”

“Did they put you and Anne in matching outfits all the time?” 

“No. They wanted us to have our own identities outside of being twins,” he says fondly. “We only matched when we were really young, when there was an occasion for it, like posing for a photograph.”

When they view the final portrait, Sebastian puts his arm around Kate. This is a family portrait, and Mr. and Mrs. Sallow appear to be more than a decade older than in their wedding photo. His mum wears her hair pulled back with a hat, and her outfit consists of a jacket, white blouse, and a matching skirt. Sebastian’s father wears a formal suit with many pieces. They stand behind the twins with their hands on their shoulders. Sebastian is wearing a collared shirt with a bow tie, suspenders, and breeches with tall stockings. He is grinning from ear to ear, showing all of his teeth. Anne is wearing a floral dress that flows just past her knees with a bow in her hair.

“How old were you here?” Kate queries, her focus fixed on all of the little details.

“Around ten years old. I remember this was taken shortly before they passed,” Sebastian recounts. “I remember that our parents were so excited for us to get our Hogwarts letters. It was practically all Anne and I ever wanted to discuss. They knew we were going to do so well in school.” His eyes soften. “Since they were professors, they were aware of the curriculum and had us read some of our textbooks in advance so that we could get as much out of our education as possible. I devoured those books - so did Anne. In fact, we sometimes fought over the textbooks. We also knew our way around Hogwarts because our parents would bring us there once in a while during summer.” 

After some time, Kate murmurs, “What a tragedy that such brilliant minds could be snuffed out by a gas leak from a lamp.”

“Yes,” he replies softly. “A silent killer. I… I wish there was something I could have done, but it was too late when Anne and I found them. If… If I had been close by, I might have heard it go silent…” He stops talking for a while, attempting to put aside his typical, go-to negative and unproductive thoughts. Focus on the good. “I… I guess for me, it’s a reminder that nothing is promised. We have to treasure all of the time we are given with our loved ones. And, Merlin, we spent so many happy years together in Aranshire. I miss them so much. All of them.” 

Kate pulls Sebastian close, kissing his hair. 

A sense of warmth and contentment fills Sebastian’s soul as she continues to study the photographs in depth. It’s been a long time since he allowed himself to really reminisce about family - at least, the positive aspects of his childhood. Seeing Kate so engaged and wanting to learn as much as she can about his mum, da, and Anne, a newfound appreciation grows within him. He relishes the moment, nuzzling into her chest as they bask in the comfort of each other’s presence. There is a profound tranquility in their connection - a sense of being understood and accepted completely. He knows their road ahead may not be easy, but he is more sure than ever before that they can overcome anything as long as they stand together.

“Do you… think they would have liked me?” Kate wonders quietly. “Or might they have envisioned someone very different for you?”

Sebastian considers her question for a moment and shifts, sitting up. “They would have loved you, Kate. You embody so many of the qualities my family valued deeply - intelligence, loyalty, an open mind… And your ability to see the best in me is… well, something truly special. They would have recognized your kindness and the way you uplift me. So… yes, I genuinely believe they would have approved of you wholeheartedly.”

Kate doesn’t respond right away, feeling a bit emotional. “I wish I could have known them.”

“I know,” he replies. “I wish you could have known them, too. They would have adored your joyful spirit and your warmth. But maybe… Maybe, in a way, they know you now. Every time we share memories and make new ones, perhaps they are with us.”

A tear slips out of Kate’s eye, despite her attempt to blink it away. “That’s… the best way to think of them, Seb. I’m sure you are right.” She finally places the portraits on the bed beside her. “We should frame these. They should be displayed in our home.”

“You’re right,” he murmurs. “They should be cherished, not locked away in my trunk.”

Kate’s eyes light up with an idea. “Let me pick out frames next week.” She looks into the depths of his eyes. “I know I will never really meet them, but it’s important to me that your family has a place here, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes are locked on her, a mixture of awe and gratitude in his expression. “Thank you, Kate. I… can’t fully put it into words, but it means the world to me that you care so deeply about honoring my family’s memory.” He places a soft kiss on her forehead.

“And we can add our own portraits someday,” she adds. “Did you know that a photographer just opened a shop in Hogsmeade?”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” he replies, his interest piqued. “Did you… have something in mind?”

Kate blushes a little. “I mean… I guess I thought it might be nice for us to pose for a portrait together.” She looks a little pensive - dreamy, even. “I might like to keep a picture of you in a locket, if I may be so bold.” 

Sebastian reaches out to tuck some hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and his smile genuine. “The thought of you keeping a photo of me in a locket… is incredibly endearing, my sun. I dare say I may like to keep a picture of you on me as well.”

“I’d like you to be near my heart always, so that I can feel your presence… especially when you’re on these dangerous missions,” she explains, lifting her hand to his cheek. “You have no idea how much I am going to worry about you.” 

“Trust me, I know your worry is genuine,” he acknowledges plainly. “And I can’t promise you that I’ll be completely safe - not with the nature of my work. But I will always do my best to come back to you in one piece. Carrying  your image with me will be a constant, heartening reminder of what I’m fighting for.”

“I just wish your work was not so dangerous. I wish… you had a choice.” She looks down for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering, before glancing back up at him again. “Sweetheart… we need to get you out of there.”

“I know, but it just isn’t that simple,” he replies, threading his fingers in hers. “The DMLE isn’t exactly keen on letting me walk away. I have a contract to honor, and they have leverage over me… because of my past.”

Kate nods solemnly. “But then… What can we do? How can we end this contract? There must be a way out that doesn’t involve you going back to Azkaban.”

“There are some possibilities,” he says quietly. “But none of them are pleasant. I don’t want to worry you any more than you already are. Just know… I’m exploring every avenue to earn my freedom.”

Staring at nothing in particular, she is silent for several moments. “I trust you, Bash. I know you’ll figure out a solution. The Kelpies must be brought to justice, and I am confident you’ll be the one to do it. You’re… cunning, resourceful, and determined - and I love you for it. You’ll succeed - I just know it.”

“I won’t lie to you, darling. It’s going to be a tough fight. But knowing of your unwavering support and faith in me gives me strength. I won’t give up. Our future together is too important.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” she genuinely inquires.

Sebastian’s heart swells with gratitude at her offer, but his countenance turns serious as he considers her question. “It’s important to me that you stay safe, first and foremost. Really, the most helpful thing you could do, Kate, is simply be here for me, provide a safe haven where I can feel comfort and solace. That alone means more to me than you can fathom.”

“Right,” she responds, looking aside and biting her lip. “I can do that. I just wish I could do more. I would do anything to help you, Seb. Truly.”

Sebastian gently takes hold of her chin, turning her face towards him once more. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Darling, you do more for me than you realize. You give me strength and resolve and hope. And I know you would do anything for me… That’s why I have to protect you.”

Kate leans in and kisses him again, lingering. “I want to protect you, too. You’re everything to me, my moon. It just isn’t fair - I wish I could free-”

She suddenly sits up, hearing a loud tapping coming from the kitchen. “Oh - it must be an owl with a letter.”

Sebastian lets out a small sigh, carefully untangling himself from her embrace. “Stay here, love. I’ll go check it out.”

He makes his way to the kitchen, where, indeed, an owl is perched just outside the window, hooting. After opening the window, he unties the letter from its foot and watches it fly away. The envelope is addressed to Kate. When he flips it over, a flicker of recognition comes across his face as he notices the seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

[dojae-huh]

Lucas has to build up his popularity again. Showing his face here and there, attending programmes. After he finds his footing again (psychologically first of all), I think he will be pushed as an actor. His main selling card is his looks and charisma, not performance skills, so modelling/acting/tv-personality is best. A Chinese-Thai Cantonese native speaker promoting in Indonesia in Korean, lol. Will Korean become the lingua franca for the region? It has the grammar/writing system advantage and the soft power of celebs.

aespa are on fire this comeback. Frankly, after many listens I still didn't warm up to "Armageddon", it's my least liked A-track, but the song serves aespa world-building and the transition to the part 2 of the lore. The concept is very beautiful, of course. And pre-releasing Supernova was a super smart move. SM repeated the success of "Illusion" (but this time adding an MV).

aespa members all progressed with dancing and stage precense, even Giselle moves better (the upper body, not legs yet). Now they are ready for global expansion and representing SK. They can show strong live singing, impress with encores, are confident. I agree with the method of starting off with minis and singles. A rookie group needs time not only to gain a fandom, but also to mature as performers. NCT U, aespa, Riize got first songs that serve in hind sight. Black mamba makes sense after the reveal of the lore. NCT started with a now classic track and with the most popular members. Riize - with a difficult daring choreo they are now known for (they repeated it with "Impossible").

The new TWS song is as bland as the previous ones, couldn't finish the MV. I'm actually curious if they will do well (considering Hybe's wealth and socmed platform, affiliation with SVT) or be the victim of fan fatigue. So far they offer nothing new in comparison to TXT and Enhypen.

Dream's "Moonlight" Jaemin gets the best clothes for MVs, heh. That sparky sweater caught my attention during the first seconds of the MV. The song is not for me, but it's very on brand for Dream - optimistic, uplifting, comforting. The MV is nice, light and sparkly, very nice colours. Fitting the concept. I like the white outfits.

Dream for me is the definition of "idol group". They are strong at performing (dancing skills, cohesion of the unit, similar height), every member is different and stands out on his own (it took time, but SM figured out how to highlight everyone and use individual skills), they are good at providing "a good company" (variety, friends, vlogs). Their overarching concept is youthful, optimistic, in parallel to their fanbase (growing up from teens to adults). The unit isn't vocally strong, only Mark is a good rapper, but the lack of technical skills is well hidden by assigning singing parts the members can manage, using Jaemin's deep voice and smiling face instead of trying to make him really rap, uniting voices in a chorus like in this song, etc. Dream sells "good time" and "good company" instead of "art" or "food for brain and ear" (like 127).

[silversiren1101]

Ooooh cool ask meme! How about stillness, day, and alternate (just modern bc im boring)?

Hi Cassy! For Mino and Moro!

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Minovae: Mino is a woman always in movement, whether fidgeting, tapping, pacing, or (the most common) tail movement! Her armor makes her kind of noisy if she is really moving around, so, as most ganzi do, her tail is quite expressive and often speaks her mind for her, even if she doesn't really want it to. Happiness is swaying like a contented cat. Agitation is a rattle at the tip like a snake. Shock has her feathers all bristling and standing on it. Thrashing about for excitement and rage both...

Stillness, though. That's bad. ESPECIALLY if her tail is still, lying on the ground as if deflated... she's in a bad spot. We're talking actual depressive or despair or sorrow, because a dead tail means dead spirits.

Morolai: Claw ticking! Moro can't help but click her claws either against her throne's armrests or against each other. She doesn't otherwise fidget all that much, and even her claw action is a calculated threat, hehe.

day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

Minovae: Mino is almost always in her armor. She's a Hellknight, that's just what they do. When she's not, though, she wears surprisingly feminine clothing in delicate colors. She grew up beneath the shadows of the Wiscrani aristocracy, seeing those fancy ladies in all their lace and frills and finery. Sad orphan she was, she couldn't help but soothe herself to sleep imagining what it'd be like to wear something nice, that could hide her scales and feathers and tail...

As an adult, she has no desire to hide her ganzi features anymore, but she does indulge in a spot of lace and delicate fabric! What she wears is still quite comfortable and practical, but with some ribbons and feminine accents as a minor indulgence. A gift to the child that no one came for.

Morolai: This queen has an entire room dedicated to just her wardrobe, and she is always commissioning new outfits and pieces to add to her collection. She prefers dark colors with sharp profiles and cutouts that accentuate her own natural features. Practical? No. Elegant and sexy and classy as hell? You bet. She won't be caught dead wearing anything that isn't flattering on her, or something someone has already worn before. Hell, she probably won't even wear the same outfit more than once unless it's to make a point!

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

Minovae: Just did here!

Morolai: CEO and owner of a fashion empire, and fashion model while we're at it. She is a genius and visionary in her designs. She models them herself. She is cutthroat and lethal in the competition. She will insult people to their face saying they don't deserve to wear her brand. I'm talking if Gisele Bündchen founded and controlled Prada and Versace and Armani combined.

This isn't gaudy tacky "accessible" high-fashion like LV or Chanel. This is the subtle true wealth vs 'rich' brand. Her label isn't blazoned across the front of her products, it's stitched into the seam and has only a few immediate-tell markers. This is "if you recognize it you're part of the club" type of fashion.

It's the darkest of colors. It's outlandish but also stylish. It's elegant but slutty as fuck.

She absolutely has assassinated the competition.

From this Ask Game

[arquivonuvem]

Weekly Fashion News Report

Formula 1 driver, Fernanda Alonso joins german fashion brand BOSS as a brand ambassador (WWD)

H&M will be opening their first store in Brasil in 2025 (CNN)

French government will be paying for costumer's clothes repair. The decision was taken to avoid clothes to be thrown away and to support fashion industry workers (The Guardian)

H&M is suing Shein over copyright infringement (Hightsnobiety)

Know for being Phoebe Philo's muse, Daria Werbowy appears in new Gucci High Jewellry teaser campaign (BOF)

After 8 years hiatus, Gisele Bundchen is back in new brazilian fashion brand Colcci's campaign (L'Officiel)

Crystal Palace, becomes the first Premier League team to hire a creative director. His name is Kenny Annan Jonathan and will be responsible for the apparel collection and fashion partnerships (BOF)

[fortressofserenity]

Underpaid

If I'm not mistaken, male models tend to be underpaid. I might also add that many of them aren't as well known as their female counterparts are, Enzo Junior has modelled for photographers before but he's a bit player. If male models are underpaid compared to their female counterparts, in the case with Pietro Boselli they might as well turn to Plan B. A second career to give them supplementary income at that, but not enough to pay for their gym membership especially if they're starting out or something.

Because of how underpaid so many male models are, if a brand were to seek a male representative it would seek out actors and athletes. I suppose if there are any hot male scientists around, then brands will seek them as well and pay them as much as they do with athletes and actors. The other problem is that women's appearances tend to be prioritised more than their actions, so this is also why female models are paid more than women working in say sewing, even though sewing's the more useful of the two jobs.

It's also more looks-agnostic, but when women's bodies are prioritised over women's actions it makes it likelier to objectify them a lot. Okay, I'm dead wrong here as sexual harassment also occurs in garment industries. But when women's looks are prioritised over women's actions, I feel it sends a bad message that the former are more important than the latter. It gets worse whenever it's headed by men, that explains a lot of things.

Along with how profitable women's clothing tends to be, it seems even if male models do exist and get a following themselves they're going to be second fiddle. Pietro Boselli is pretty well-known, but even then he's nowhere as well-paid as Sean O'Pry is who in turn isn't as well-paid as Gisele Bundchen is. It's a good guess to say that many male models are middle class, earning enough to get by in life and buy whatever they want and need. But it is this rare for them to be rich.

[wilddwcrds]

Full Name: Selene Angelique "Angel" Sinclair

Age & Birthday: 29 years old, September 11th

Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Current Residence: Larklight Inn

Occupation: Unemployed / Depop seller / Influencer

DETAILS

Family Legacy: The Sinclair sisters are new to Clearwater after inheriting the Larklight Inn and renovating it.

Favorite Spot in Town: She likes some of the boutiques but that's it, she's undecided if she likes Clearwater at all.

Hidden Talent or Hobby: Angel has a business savvy mind when she focuses, and her particular talent lies within marketing and social media. It's not so much a talent as it is something her previous lifestyle thrived from.

PERSONALITY

Core Traits: Shallow, Stubborn, Analytical, Excitable, Idealistic, Entitled, Distractable, Impulsive, Sociable

Strengths: Whether she means to or not, Angel can lift the mood of a room because she's more determined to have fun than anything else. When she sets her mind to something, she's focused and more analytical than she seems but for the most part, Angel is fairly upbeat. Mainly because she lives in her own little world.

Weaknesses: Angel doesn't often want to see the bigger picture. She only really cares about how something might impact her, and her shallowness definitely tips into selfishness at times. She prefers surface level connections than deep friendships, which used to fit her old life.

What Keeps Them Up at Night, If Anything?: Angel is terrified of being poor and getting a real job. She hates selling her clothes. She hates it when comments on her social media expose the truth behind why she's in Clearwater so she's often deleting them.

How Do They Handle Conflict?: Angel usually handles conflict with a smile and she knows how to deliver cutting remarks with a sweet voice. She thinks of herself as too classy to get into a real fight or conflict, so instead she usually makes flippant remarks behind someone's back.

HISTORY

Backstory: The Sinclairs had it all, and Angel was never worried about the consequences of swiping a credit card multiple times a day. Because there were none. Her and her sisters grew up with the best of the best, from educations to vacations to the homes they owned in different countries. Angel grew up with the idea that indulgence was simply what she deserved. She studied business and marketing at an ivy league college, but this was more a right of passage than something she had any passion for. Regardless, she took what she learned and applied it to her own social medias until Angel Sinclair was something of an online brand itself. Thousands of people watched her luxe lifestyle videos, or making smoothies that she swore is why she's snatched. In 2022, after her parents died, Angel felt the world beneath her feet shift. She didn't handle her grief as well as she could have, veering more into her indulgences as a way to escape. In a way, she still felt untouchable. Just like she always had. But slowly and surely, the perfect life chipped away. It started as a few cancelled credit cards, and then it became banks coming for the substantial money Giselle and Stephen owed. And then, it was repossessions. The only thing the Sinclair sisters ended up with was an inn, that not even the banks saw worth in taking. With no other choice, they've come to Clearwater and it's the first time Angel has had to stand properly on her own two feet. She doesn't like the town, she doesn't even think turning Larklight Inn into a boutique hotel will be worth it. But, she knows there's no other choice. And she'd rather be with her sisters through this than face anything alone.

Current Situation: Angel is trying to frame the move to Clearwater and the renovation of Larklight Inn as something cute and fun and not a last attempt at making sure the Sinclair name doesn't lose absolutely everything. She's often trying to capture aesthetic moments for content, only for her face to be absolutely disgusted as soon as she stops recording. She sells a few of her things on depop, with utter regret.

How Do They Feel About the Changes in Clearwater?: She doesn't notice the changes in the way a local would. If anything, Angel thinks the changes are trying to put glitter on something that won't glitter at all.

CONNECTIONS AND RELATIONSHIPS

Reputation in Clearwater: Angel probably has rustled a few feathers since she's arrived, especially considering she still talks to people with an air of disinterest or demand in her voice. She's tried to make a few friends, but she doesn't know how to have a conversation that really means something unless with her sisters. Angel is still, naively, treating her time in Clearwater as temporary.

Important Relationships: Sylvie, Seraphina, people who help with the inn or people she treats like the help lol

Potential Story Hooks: Angel becoming more down to earth over time would be fun to explore, like friends that get through to her, they could make her see how out of touch she is. Small moments like that which add up to bigger changes. Angel actually able to help small businesses and sales with her skills, and for the first time ever she realizes how important community is.

[d3adpr1nc3ss]

tag game!! creds: @strawberrymilkshakedoll

fav model: gisele bundchen

fav color: pink obvs

fav beverage: ultra rosa monster energy

fav book: books close by kori jane

fav singer: lana del rey

fav emoji: tounge sticking out with eyes open

fav movie(s): coraline, jennifer's body, death becomes her, i know what you did last summer

fav animal: cat

fav clothing brand: juicy couture!!

fav season(s): spring and fall

fav character: needy, alyssa foley, raquelle, harley quinn

pass it on ! <3

[sscieloz]

💭 richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader

not proofread j some silly thoughts💕

pt.1 | pt.2

- you were thrilled to know you were going to share a dorm with another international student, specially since you were having a hard time adjusting.

- giselle was a sweetheart from day one, introducing you to everyone and making sure you always felt included.

- she was very classy and noticeably wealthy—you could tell, by her clothes and by the way she carried herself, that she came from money. besides, whenever you’d go out to fancy museums or coffee shops, something would always make your eyes grow big: always amused to your surroundings—yet she’d never bat an eye at it.

- you were given a full ride scholarship, and the only reason you were attending this specific university was due to the soccer coach spotting you at an international club tournament you played in new york and scouting you. you were hesitant, at first, but you weren’t going to get an offer to a university that was that prestigious at home anyway, so you decided to go.

- your parents were still paying for your stay, with much effort, so you tried to spend as little as possible.

- which meant subtly ducking from your roommate’s daily coffees and girl dates.

- giselle actually thought you didn’t like her until she realized you spent most of the time in the dorms because you were quite literally broke.

- it’s an issue she solves quickly enough.

- at first she just bluntly offers to pay for your stuff, but stops herself as you keep denying her efforts, with a flustered face. it’s only when she changes techniques that she starts succeeding in her efforts.

- she’s subtle, then: giselle gifts you clothes she claims that are “thrifted”, makes sure there’s always your favorite drink placed on your desk whenever you return from your practices, buys you the shoes she caught you lurking on the internet for far too long, claiming it’s your birthday present—even though your birthday isn’t until the upcoming months...

- accepting a purse she claimed she’d never used and “was in her closet for ages”. you later get told by a classmate said purse was just out of stock in seoul, even though it had just been announced

- you don’t suspect a thing, keeping her little gifts and dismissing them as just little treats she gives you as a friend. it’s giselle, after all. she was born into luxury, and gift giving is her primary love language.

- besides, you grew tired of rejecting her efforts to spoil you, and you hate to see her so offended when you tell her you just can’t keep that many presents. you hate the faces she does when she doesn’t get what she wants. and it frustrates you to not be able to gift her just the same. you wish you could spoil her rotten, too.

- as you stop telling her ‘no’, giselle becomes more and more confident.

- “it’s what roomies do, Y/n, don’t worry.” she assures you every time you try to give her the gifts back. in reality, giselle loves to see you dolled up in the stuff she chose. being the star player, you quickly gained popularity, so what better way to tell those useless whores who were always ogling you that you belonged to her already? what better way than having her brand all over you?

- she even gave you a friendship ring, as she called it, once you two went to the university’s fall ball, to symbolize how deeply you’ve connected since you started attending uni.

- you were basically either with your teammates or aeri and her friends. she was pretty, outgoing and naturally insanely popular. she dragged you with her everywhere, having you follow her around like a puppy. you didn’t mind, though: her friends were funny enough, and you liked getting to hear the drama and the gossips without being a part of it. they were also always polite to you, too, so you enjoyed hanging out with her and her group. they weren’t your friends, though. you reminded yourself that every now and then. just colleagues.

-

- she loved how shy you got when she touched you, too. it took her much, much patience, but after nearly a whole year, you were finally comfortable enough to be relaxed at her touches.

- an occasional hand on your waist, a kiss on the cheek; hugs that went for perhaps too long, cuddling sessions in the dorm as you watched her turn her buzzing phone off (she had a party to attend when you called her for a movie night. “oh, it’s ok unnie!! have fun.” you told her, but giselle was already sitting beside you and grabbing a hold of the blanket for herself.)

- she insisted on cuddling until you fell asleep too, even though your bed didn’t exactly fit both of you. however, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny her anything, already feeling like you owed her so much. she was the one who was always taking care of you, not only with her little gifts. she was always asking about your practices, if you needed any help with your classes, whether people were being nice and polite to you, since you still struggled with your korean when talking to many people at once. you were truly grateful to have her, so, naturally, you’d do anything for her.

- you’d often find yourself waking up with her hands groping your tits or lingering too close to the hem of your panties, but you’d never think much of it, dismissing it as your friend being just unconscious while sleeping.

- she was possessive, too. you could see the cold stare she gave your teammates whenever you had one of them over to study. funny enough, they never looked at you the same way again, nor did they accept your invitations to host movie nights anymore.

- your only friend (besides aeri) was jini. you were both new to the team and had many classes together. like you, she was shy, lost and very reserved, which was part of the reason you instantly clicked. you enjoyed hanging out with her between classes and practices, even more once you got to know her a bit better: jini was actually quite energetic and bubbly, always talking about her favorite mangas or the new songs she was listening to. you liked to hear how passionately she talked about things, sometimes so immersed she wouldn’t even notice you getting left behind in the sea of people, as you walked through your classes.

- naturally, giselle despised your teammate, always making sure to hug you extra hard and send her hard glances whenever you looked away.

- whenever she felt as if you didn’t have 100% of your attention on her, she’d buy you a fancy gift: an ipad of your favorite color, a watch, new earrings... it kept you clingy for days, entertained with your new stuff; just as she liked it.

- the first time you fucked, the two of you had just returned to another one of her fancy dinners with her friends. you were drunk, hot, and messy, struggling to get out of the small black dress that clung tightly to your body— which, of course, giselle had chosen for you to wear. you asked for help to take it off, but as soon as you felt your roommates long fingers trace your bare back, you lost it: you turned around, kissing her fiercely as the dress fell onto the ground, leaving you completely exposed.

- a wave of wind roamed through the window, hitting your body and making you shiver, feeling your nipples harden and your conscience returning. you took a step back, murmuring apologies and being extremely embarrassed, until you felt her hands on your waist again, pushing you onto your mattress as her body hovered on top of yours.

- she whispered it was ok; her pretty pet was horny, that’s all. she’d take care of it. and so she latched her mouth onto your body, making you moan loudly.

- you woke up still dizzy, with your body filled with bruises. you were still ashamed but deeply satisfied, and aeri brushed your hair as she said you could still be friends or something else, if you’d like.

- from then, you’ve been her girlfriend, though things had hardly changed. only now, she encouraged you to be vocal about the things you wanted her to buy for you, and you had to work for them.

- regardless, you love being her pet ;)

-

bonus: you didn’t realize you were kind of her sugar baby (even though she was only months older) until one of your teammates pointed it out, giving you a whole lot of harsh words and making a show of talking about how you were only with aeri because of her money. you ignored your girlfriend for a whole week after that, until she decided she’d given you plenty of space and confronted you with a serious tone. you started crying and she listened attentively as you explained the filthy words your teammate had said to you and all of her twisted suggestions. giselle nodded and pulled you close, kissing you and reassuring she knew none of that was true. yes, you were kind of a sugar baby since giselle spoiled you so much, but it didn’t have to be like that if you didn’t want it to be. you brushed your tears away, saying it wasn’t that; the girl’s words were just so agressive… the thought of people feeling so sure you didn’t love giselle as much as she loved you was overwhelming, which was why you distanced yourself. she understood, murmuring for you to tell her immediately when such things happened instead of refusing to see her, which you nod as she kissed the top of your head.

the girl gets expelled from your team 2 days after your conversation with giselle. however, you don’t connect the dots, only shrugging and not paying much attention to jini’s words as you walk to the cafeteria.

[lolidolli]

thanki♡ @strawberrymilkshakedoll

fav model: vlada roslyakova

fav color: baby pink

fav book: the virgin suïcides

fav singer: lizzy grant, mars argo

fav emoji: 🐇♡

fav movie: sleeping beauty, bambi (1942), old barbie movies, tinkerbell

fav animal: bunnies ♡,cats

fav clothing brand: brandy melville

fav season: winter, summer

fav character: snow white, princess giselle (enchanted), princess aurora , janet webber (girl interrupted) 🧁

🧁tags all moots♡

[jentlemahae]

i’m so happy that aespa have individual fashion ambassadorships now. i always felt like group ambassadorships don’t work with fashion brands (hybe PLEASE take notes, free my fimmies from the evil clutches of louis vuitton) bcs each member has a different style and personality. imo their group deal with chopard works fine bcs idt personal style matters when it comes to jewellery as much as fashion. anw their individual deals work so much better! karina in pravda, winter in polo ralph lauren and ningning in versace, it’s like the stars are aligning, that’s so perfect!!! idk if giselle has an official deal yet but she has been working with acne studios, loewe and ottolinger and honestly all of those brands fit her well so yay!!!

agreeeeeee !!! i really don’t like group gigs when it comes to fashion and fashion/visuals is such a BIG aspect of aespa’s concept so i always thought them choosing the right gigs was really important, so i definitely agree with u :3 and yeah . free lsrfm from lv and their ugly clothes .

[blogmodule2]

2-1 Blog: Under Armour: Where Do We Go From Here?

In the case study article, what market segments were identified and what segmentation strategies were implemented? 

With advertisements that targeted men, Under Armor first built their brand by marketing their products through the "tough guy" and football image (University of Virginia, 2016). University of Virginia, 2016). They achieved this by delivering innovative and modern technical apparel. Under Armor gained $2.3 billion in sales in 2013 but only $500 million came from their women's products, motivating them to expand into the female market (University of Virginia, 2016). As a result, the campaign "I Will What I Want" was created. By using a ballerina, the campaign targeted women who would relate how they were recognized after attending a ballet school because of their lack of body, but continued to pursue their passions and danced for the rest of the advertisement, which was so included in another part of the campaign, famous model Giselle Bundchen (University of Virginia, 2016). In addition to niche segments such as the health club industry, closely targeted activities like Pilates and rock climbing were also highlighted in the case study article. 

Targeting segments based on demographic characteristics was Under Armor's segmentation strategy. Kardes et al., 2020 describe demographic characteristics such as age, gender, income, education, occupation, etc. In marketing, demographic segmentation is more popular since characteristics of consumers can be measured easily and inexpensively. (Kardes et al., 2020). Due to Under Armor selling athletic apparel, segmenting by psychographics would also be a segmentation strategy since niche segments have been mentioned such as health clubs, Pilates, and rock climbing. (Kardes et al., 2020) Psychographic segmentation measures attitudes, values, and beliefs about lifestyle. In addition to behavioral segmentation, there are other segmentation strategies that could have been implemented, such as segmentation based on product attribute or benefit preferences, as well as usage occasion. Sports or workout clothing from Under Armor contains benefits for the occasion. 

What do you believe are four to five key points to remember when implementing segmentation strategies? 

When implementing segmentation strategies, the following four key points should be kept in mind: 

1. Realize that there is no such thing as a "one size fits all". There is no one size fits all approaches to market segmentation (Kardes et al., 2020), and consumers have different preferences. In order to really understand who our audience is and what they want and need, we need to analyze their preferences. 

2. In addition to consumer details, consumer behavior also matters. As well as knowing our audience, it's easy to find out where they reside, what their demographics are, and what their psychographics are by poking through databases like the U.S. census. Rather than asking what consumers are doing with our brand, we should ask what actions they are taking? When they visit our website, what do they do? Do they behave the same way as other customers? (Vilner, 2017) Has this become a trend? (Vilner, 2017)  

3. Beware of the majority of fallacy. During majority fallacy, a company neglects smaller and less typical segments in favor of the large average segments (Kardes et al., 2020). In larger segments, competition tends to be fiercer, and they are not always the most profitable segment, but the small, neglected segments can be much more profitable, especially in an environment with less competition (Kardes et al., 2020). 

4. A company's ability to distinguish products by their characteristics can influence the segmentation of its market (Kardes et al., 2020). A company's efforts can lead to over-segmentation when its products are so similar that they compete. If you are trying to implement segmentation strategies on a product that you already have, you may need to determine if it is like the product, you already have. 

Identify a new market segment that you have noticed recently (during your own shopping experience online, in a commercial ad, or in a secondary resource such as a magazine) that you believe would be a great market to explore. How might you create a segmentation strategy to reach this new market segment? 

The spiritual herbalist community is a new market segment that is interested in exploring belief. Social media platforms are widely used. Plants, herbs, and flowers are becoming increasingly important to spiritual practices, as well as decorating and crafting with them. By researching everything about this new market segment, I can create a segmentation strategy to reach them. Demographics, geography, psychographics, and their behavior as consumers are all things I would like to know. It would then be possible to create a strategy for reaching this segment by researching everything about them. I would choose the following segmentation strategy. As this segment could be classified as lifestyle or niche, I would use a psychographic segmentation strategy. 

References 

Kardes, F., Cronely, M., & Cline, T. (2020). Consumer Behavior. MBS 

Direct. hrtosth/moscirectvitasource.com/b00ks/9781305161689 

University of Virginia. July 27, 2016). Under Armour's willful digital moves. Harvard Business Review; Darden Business Publishing. httpstti//services.hbsp.harvard.edu/Iti/links/content-launch 

Vilner, Y. (2017, December 12). 5 factors to consider when segmenting your customers. Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership. httpstti//blog.marketo.com/2017/12/5-factors- consider-segmenting-customers.html