#get a ruffled shirt and a choker... maybe a suit jacket...

[music-for-them-asses]

OK friends, I think I'm going to go as a vampire for Halloween! (Thanks @sibelin for the inspiration!!) I'm drawing inspiration from SOFAD Dave, because his wardrobe FUCKED during that era. I have no idea where to look for clothes, though...if I was better at sewing, I'd make myself a jacket/blazer, but I've never sewn from a pattern before.... here's my inspo board at any rate!

[spiralhigh]

ranking the sdr2 cast by how much their formal wear hits

this is just my opinion, but my opinions are great and i know what i’m talking about! this will be long so it’s under a cut

S TIER:

s tier is reserved for only the best of them all, the cream of the crop, the fit that i would gladly lay down my life for. s tier is the crown jewel. s tier is what everyone else should strive to be... but only one can take the prize.

#1: AKANE OWARI

the undisputed champion. this look is everything to me. EVERYTHING. the red-trim cape with the fur. the contrast of the airy, gathered blouse with those skin-tight shiny (leather? vinyl??) pants. the pumps. the belt that screams disco style. the necklace accentuating the tasteful titty window. the red white and gold color scheme  are you FUCKING WITH ME miss owari this look could bring ARMIES to their KNEES in an INSTANT. whoever drew this deserves full creative control of the danganronpa franchise and i’m not kidding

A TIER:

a tier is for the fits that frankly own bones. they’re not as jaw-dropping and legendary as owari, but they’re still razor as hell and deserve to be met with riotous applause.

#2: KAZUICHI SOUDA

kazuichi, i didn’t know you had it in you, but this FUCKS. the character of the pins on the lapels, the sneakers, and the mispinned tie. the absolute CLASS of the suspenders, watch, and tiny round glasses. the handsome slick in the hair now that the greasy beanie is gone. the tasteful highwater. he looks like the host of the larry king show if the larry king show was exclusively about ska bands and he has never looked better

#3: HIYOKO SAIONJI

tell me this isn’t the cutest shit. the colors here are EXQUISITE. the bright notes from the blue on top, the way the soft pink is a perfect middle ground of the pink + white flowers on her sleeves, the subtle way the green in her bow matches the green in her collar, the white petals breaking up the sky blue that might otherwise look out of place? remarkable. stunning.

#4: PEKO PEKOYAMA

the ELEGANCE is EVERYTHING here. the monochrome is offset by just a splash of red that ties everything together with her eyes and the flower in her hair, the checkerboard pattern is visually interesting but not distracting, and her hair in that loose ponytail with the little white ribbon? ugh. ADORABLE! but most of all, look at those BOOTS. those CUTE LITTLE HEELS on those SICK LACE-UP BOOTS..... QUEEN shit!!!

#5: CHIAKI NANAMI

rounding out our a tier is chiaki in this adorable little dress just LOOK at her!!! she looks like a little rose, a perfect flouncy skirt with a glittery mesh overlay, a fun and fresh over-the-shoulder collar, a fucking big old bow tied in the back?? i can literally feel the way this dress would feel in my hands. it’s simple and perfect and frankly a GORGEOUS color on her this is flawless

B TIER:

b tier is a perfectly respectable place to be. these fits lack the lustre and flavor of the a tier entries, but they’re still dressed to impress and they still look fine as hell.

#6: TERUTERU HANAMURA

say what you will about teruteru (and i do) but this suit is ADORABLE and it fits in with his theme + talent better than any other mfer on this list. the tasteful white/brown/red palette gives it a flashy chocolate cookie look, which is amplified in the fun pattern on the jacket. the chef’s hat switching out for a little top hat and the way the cumberbund looks a lil bit like a chocolate bar is also VERY cute

#7: THE IMPOSTOR

now on its own, the suit is just alright. a vibrant pinstripe blue three-piece with the classic red tie wouldn’t land the impostor in b tier on its own... but that FUR COAT, LUXURIOUSLY DRAPED OVER THE SHOULDERS does WONDERS to pull this look together. not only is it worn with “yeah, it’s real mink, no, you can’t touch it” confidence, but it also ties the otherwise arbitrary white loafers into the structure of the look. it’s subtle and class as hell.

C TIER

c tier is full of looks that are... fine, but ultimately either are boring, lack cohesion, or have a confusing design choice or two that make it hard to get all that amped about. c tier is a passing grade, but nothing more.

#8: NAGITO KOMAEDA

there’s a lot that’s good about this outfit, but there’s also a lot that doesn’t really work. let’s start with the good: the slutty loose bowtie and collar, the tight-fitting vest that ends before the hipbones so you can see the belt, the cute little ponytail? (chefs kiss) exquisite, all of it. but the suit itself is boring as sing, and who the hell decided to put the t-shirt symbol on the sleeves??? was it to add visual flavor to an otherwise bland suit? this does NOT have the black/white/red elegance that peko had.

#9: FUYUHIKO KUZURYUU

the silver and gold mob-boss look, complete with matching shoes vest and fedora, are a nice nod to fuyuhiko’s talent! the plaid is teetering on the edge between fun and garish to me, but the fact that it’s consistent and the only pattern means it isn’t too offensive. quick question though: why are his pant legs rolled up like that?? this isn’t a cute “cuffed at the ankle” look, dude looks like he had to wade across a pond to get to the venue. what gives

#10: GUNDAM TANAKA

out of everyone here, gundam’s suit might be the most boring of all. the scarf is just his normal scarf. the red tie and trim don’t do anything to tie the look together. the only mild point of interest is the asymmetrical vest, and i can’t even tell if that’s intentional. simply put, this “““fancy”““ outfit isn’t even in the same ZIP CODE as the level of ostentatious chuuni that gundam serves us every single day in his casual wear. maybe even worse than being ugly... it’s disappointing.

#11: IBUKI MIODA

now, look. is this dress buckwild and ugly as hell? yes. but you know what else it is? it is IBUKI MIODA’S DRESS. there might not be a single cohesive thing about this dress aside from its color scheme. the huge poofy ruffles of the skirt and arm things with the spiked bow and corset are baffling. the artist somehow managed to draw the awkward, clumping shape of the skirt to make it look exactly like an emergency cosplay sewn four hours before a convention. frankly, i can’t justify ranking it as a c! but i’m doing it anyway, because the sheer level of craftsmanship demands it, and in this house we respect diy queens that are totally off the shits.

D TIER:

d tier is for outfits that aren’t offensive, exactly... but like, they sure don’t look good! d tier is not a respectable place to be. those in d tier won’t be laughed out of the ceremony in shame, but they should really run their outfit by someone else first next time.

#12: NEKOMARU NIDAI

now don’t get me wrong: i have nothing but respect for the titties-out look. keeping the shirt unbuttoned all the way down to where the lapels of the jacket end? that’s sexy as hell. however, this flawless idea has a confusing execution. why emerald green and orange? what’s with the... long-sleeved printed (hawaiian?) shirt? why the red pocket square? and the jacket itself, while fitted perfectly along the chest and midsection, has a weird, unflattering scallop shape flaring out at the bottom. i want to like this fit, but there are just too many bad choices.

#13: HAJIME HINATA

oh, hajime... literally nothing about this ensemble is it. the creamy manila suit might have had potential if there were literally any color variation in the vest (or potentially shoes) to give it a little more shape, or even if you just went with a white shirt underneath it! i could get behind a light, off-monochrome look! but that leprechaun-green shirt is downright perplexing to me. it looks like a mistake! did you get dressed in the dark? did you spill something on your other shirt? this is a mess.

F TIER:

f tier is inexcusable. f tier should never have happened. how does it get this bad. who did this? who’s responsible for this?

#14: SONIA NEVERMIND

y’know, the colors are pretty! i dig the white and teal! but... girl... what the fuck is this construction. the ruffles are all over the place. the bodice looks like it has less fabric than space it needs to cover. the bottom half of the skirt looks like it was sewn on as an afterthought because the top half was too short for dress code. what’s with the weird choker collar detached from everything else. why is the hairband a slightly different shade of green. so many decisions were made here and none of them are flattering

#15: MAHIRU KOIZUMI

yknow, i like the idea behind this. i can see what you were going for! the dress on its own might have worked, even! but everything else about it is just... so ugly. what the fuck is happening with those shoes??? the sheer black tights aren’t the sexy OL look you think they are. the collar of the dress looks like it’s... braided for some reason??? those earrings are so huge for no payoff, statement jewelry with nothing to say, and worst of all... that headband. GIRL. that headband and that belt...... there’s nothing here. also i love orange but it’s not her color.

and finally... the worst.

#16: MIKAN TSUMIKI

what the fuck. what the fuck is this. this is straight up cheap rubber fetish gear. why is the HAT rubber? that skirt ruffle makes this look like fucking polly pocket clothes. why the fuck is she wearing that. the clothes are so bad that it makes her hair look like rubber too. was she dared to wear this? is this some cruel punishment? i don’t even know what to say. this is the worst possible outfit. there is not even one redeeming quality about it.

[mythgirlimagines]

Well, now that Tuesday is here, it’s time for a brand new talentswap! Give a soft hello to Myth, the Former Ultimate Essayist!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Because of a combination of a weak body and her already existing scoliosis, this Myth spent most of her childhood bedridden and isolated from the world. With her frail body, Myth turned to reading and studying as her only two modes of entertainment. Myth was practically homeschooled, and from there Myth found her talent in writing. Although she is an expert in writing short stories, her true expertise lies in her essays that span a bunch of topics, ranging from science to history to even pop culture. Once her family raised enough money to get her scoliosis surgery, Myth was ready to attend Hope’s Peak and won’t let back pain stop her. When she graduated, Myth then was given the option to chaperone the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates, and that is how our story begins!

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Romantic

A high-school celebrity thanks to their boyish charm and their lovable rogue personality, Wyre is well-known for being able to charm anyone, male or female, and Myth is most definitely is no exception to this rule. In fact, Myth has been Wyre‘s favorite flirting and teasing target ever since they first met in Hope‘s Peak, and Wyre has been Myth’s first-ever friend since. This hopeless bisexual just couldn’t handle the rugged muscles or the bad boy attitude of her  tomboyish charmer of a BFF. Myth is currently working on an essay to confess her feelings for Wyre. 

Outfit: Neatly-combed pixie cut, black blazer over a messily buttoned white shirt, tan pants, black loafers, glasses, necklace, and bracelet from original design.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Voice Actress

Famous for her wide range of voices and her typecasting into villainous or demonic characters, Anon Scar chose to embrace the archetype of her usual characters and put on her classic “Demon of Tounges” act that roped her tons of fans in the seiyuu fan community. When Myth first met Scar, she was scared off by the voice actress‘s deep voice and hammy performances. From there, Scar knew to tone down her theatrics around Myth and soon Myth saw Scar for who she truly is: a kindhearted and almost maternal teenager. 

Outfit: Shoulder-length hair, a black ski cap with a skull on the front, black headphones with a microphone on the right ear, a black and white striped sweater, black fingerless gloves, scarf, skirt, stockings, and boots from original design. 

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Personal Assistant

In order to support both his parents and his little brother, Fusion had to take several odd jobs, ranging from a waiter to a cashier to even a court stenographer, resulting in him gathering an entire arsenal of skills and the title of Ultimate Personal Assistant. Despite his frightening height, Fusion’s kindhearted, reliable, and paternal nature made Myth warm up to him very easily. If Myth is ever in pain and needs her medication and comfort items, Fusion always has what she needs stashed somewhere on his body. Myth is still wondering to this day, where exactly does Fusion keep those things?

Outfit: Afro tied into a long and puffy ponytail with a red hair tie, blue and yellow vest over a red dress shirt and a yellow bow tie, white gloves, glasses, pants, and shoes from original design. 

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Procrastinator

Getting picked on at school for her bookish, nerdy personality and her natural genius, Fusion II reinvented herself with a flippant, bad-girl personality, who couldn’t care less about her studies. Despite not caring about academics, Fusion II’s grades are still the top of her school. While originally scared of Fusion II, due to her punk fashion and delinquent personality, Myth’s fear of Fusion II diminished when Myth caught her reading one of her essays in the library, proving that she is still a massive bookworm and a nerd, much to the procrastinator’s dismay.

Outfit: Blue streaks in her ruffled up hair, black spiked headband, dark blue denim jacket with golden spikes on the shoulder, black fingerless gloves, dark blue skirt with a tattered edge, tall spiky metal boots that add 4 inches onto her height, sunglasses, t-shirt and choker from original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Poet

Despite what his adorable pastel fashion sense, innocent talent, and his calming hypnotic poetry would suggest, in reality, Janon has a foul mouth and an equally foul attitude and wants nothing more than to lie in bed all day without people bothering him. Myth can relate to that big time, alongside having a talent relating to writing, which makes Myth one of the few people who Janon is able to open up to. Sometimes, Myth and Janon organise ”nap nests“ (aka. piles and piles of blankets and pillows) and exchange what they have written together. 

Outfit: An oversized pink turtleneck sweater with a bunny on the front that covers his mouth and hands, formal wear from original design.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Speedreader

Despite Sparkle’s loud and dramatic personality being more suited towards a performance themed talent, Sparkle’s true expertise lies in reading at extremely high speeds. Sparkle and Myth’s shared interest in reading made them very close friends, despite their contrasting personalities. At some time in their friendship, Myth has been christened ”THE SPECTACULAR AND SPEEDY SPARKLE’S SIMULTANEOUSLY SPECTACULAR STOPWATCHKEEPER!”, for Myth regularly times Sparkle and gives Sparkle brand new material to read. 

Outfit: A blue vest over a white dress shirt, a red and orange tarten skirt, glasses, paldrons, cape, stockings, and boots from original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Ornithologist

Two great, but cursed, scientific minds, this freakish duo have took the world by storm with their “Future Avian Overlords” conspiracy theories. No matter how improbable the theory, Egg manages to point out real life aspects about the world around us, thanks to their twin, that supports the theory. But ever since Egg spread the theory that birds were just drones to Wet Sock, their relationship hasn’t been the same since. The twins scare the ever-living stuffing out of Myth, every time one of them decides to open their mouth, and Wyre regularly has to discipline them with violence for scaring her friend. 

Outfits: Dark brown sleeveless parkas over tan t-shirts, brown pants and brown boots, Egg has an alien pin and Wet Sock has a feather pin, glasses from original design. 

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Surgeon

Hailed by the medical world as a child prodigy, Curious’s steady and disciplined attitude made him a natural at surgery, despite their age and height. Having interacted with surgeons ever since she was little, Myth always felt at ease when around Curious. As a matter of fact, Myth met Curious before just before they attended Hope’s Peak Junior High, at one of the hospitals they volunteered at. Curious’s polite and charitable nature makes them a perfect companion for the timid Myth. In their off time, Myth likes to give Curious some of her short stories to read. 

Outfit: Hair in a small ponytail, mint green surgery scrubs and facemask, black pants, blue and white loafers.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Ice Skater

Myth actually saw Nerd’s performances on TV a couple of times and he was absolutely graceful and stunning on the ice. She may have a bit of a celebrity crush on him. But when she attended the Kibo-Con along with him, Myth caught wind of Nerd’s true personality: vulgar, surly, and loud-mouthed. But ever since Nerd met this tiny and timid essayist, his protective instincts have just flared up. Wyre knows about Myth’s little celebrity crush and Nerd’s little thing for Myth and is constantly coming up with schemes to choose her over the rude ice skater. 

Outfit: Hair combed over his right eye, a black, white, red and blue hoodie, black pants and red and white sneakers.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate VS Debater

Myth thought that she was the timidest person in the Kibo-Con roster. But ever since she met Eldritch, Myth may have some competition in the timidity category. Despite his confidence and boldness on the debate podium, when put in any other situation, Eldritch starts shaking in his boots and thinking up the worst possible scenario for every occasion. Despite Myth’s kindhearted and honest nature, Eldritch seems to think that Myth’s timidity is just a facade and that she will pull out a weapon from underneath her hoodie and assassinate him. 

Outfit: Neatly combed shoulder-length hair, red suit with a maroon tie, orange pants and black boots.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Astronomer

Despite her athletic, energetic, and childish demeanor, Dream is regarded as a veritable scientific genius in the study of the vast vacuum of space, to the point of having a star cluster named after her volleyball team. Needless to say, someone like Dream wasn’t what Myth had in mind when she heard she was going to be chaperoning the Ultimate Astronomer. At first, Myth wasn’t able to keep up with Dream’s energetic and outgoing attitude. But as time went on, Myth now looks forward to her relaxing weekly stargazing with Dream. 

Outfit: Star barettes, a galaxy-printed version of her original shirt, skirt, shorts and shoes from original design.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Paleontologist

Despite Iris’s klutziness and almost stupidly optimistic outlook on life, Iris is a verified genius when it comes to paleontology, often being cited in academic journals and discovering a couple of new paleontologic species. Iris claims that she studies paleontology because she wants to show people that the world is just awesome, no matter the time period. Myth admires Iris’s optimistic outlook on life, and wishes to learn all about Iris’s philosophy and way of life, and Iris is happy to teach Myth the ways of the Iris. Maybe Iris’s philosophy could be just the confidence boost that she needs. 

Outfit: Cracked glasses, a green dinosaur hoodie over a brown dress with fossil designs all over, brown steel-toed boots, bandages all over her body from various freak accidents at digs. 

Purple Anon, Ultimate Puzzle Solver

Ever since Purple solved a highly-difficult puzzle as a toddler, Purple managed to dominate every single puzzle that the high-tech research lab threw at her. With an unparalleled aptitude for solving all sorts of puzzles, Purple specializes in ciphers and word puzzles. Because of their intellectual yet timid natures, Purple and Myth get along very well. Because of Myth’s talent, she has no problem at all, when it comes to understanding Purple’s cryptic speech patterns and vocabulary. They regularly exchange mental stimulation with each other in the forms of scientific essays and puzzles. 

Outfit: A white sweater with a cipher puzzle of her name on the front, a skirt colored like a Rubix cube, stockings and shoes from original design.

This series will be a bisexual harem series centering around five Anons fighting for the affections of the timid essayist who just wants them all to get along.

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PERSONALITY

Because of her socially-isolated backstory, Essayist!Myth is supremely timid and often lets Wyre do the talking for her. Her time at Hope’s Peak raised her self-esteem and made her a bit more confident, but she is still painfully shy and socially-anxious. That being said, Essayist!Myth is really intelligent thanks to her hobby of reading and studying, and often finds solace with other intellectually minded Anons. Essayist!Myth isn’t at all skilled in the prospect of romance, which makes her a disaster bi, as opposed to the confident bi-ness of Romantic!Myth.

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APPEARANCE

Essayist!Myth has long brown hair with two pink barettes that goes over her right eye and reading glasses. She wears a pink hoodie with a bisexual pride badge yellow zipper and flowers on each pocket. Myth wears the purple skirt, black stockings and pink Mary Janes from her original design. 

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Let me know what you think of this series and this talentswap! If any of you have any headcanons for this AU, feel free to let me know!

-Fusion Anon

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I have been known to write an essay or two, especially one on Strawberry Shortcake lol

[brattywriters-anonymous]

A Rose In Harlem

OC x Erik Story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

Warnings: Language

@chaneajoyyy

Chapter IX: Rize

February 6, 2014

22 HOURS BEFORE SHOWTIME.REHEARSAL, NINE PM.

"Ladies, Gents! Find Seats! Sit in them!" All twenty-four models followed Yani's request. We just wrapped our rehearsal, everyone did phenomenal. I can only pray that we get it like this at 583 Park Ave. Yani and I have been thee dynamic duo for the past seventy-two hours. I've been steaming outfits, she's been bagging accessories. I've been designing roll-away walls, she's been contacting every contractor in her contacts to design the black and gold glitter floors.

Honestly, in the past month, Yani and I have been on our hustle. I finished my last shoot and have been on go since. Erik and I have basically been like two ships passing in the night. I usually would leave before him, and come home after he arrived. We never talked about my father's birthday, our kiss..well..kisses. None of it. I've been too busy. Yasin and I have been texting here and there, but I haven't seen him either. He's been understanding about it though. The only person I've been spending my time with is Yani.

We've collectively gotten maybe eight hours of sleep in three days. So now, we're just exhausted and over it. We're trying to get this rehearsal over and done with. The theater's silence is my queue to step on the stage, I do so, scanning my models faces. They're looking like kids on Christmas Eve. So excited for what the next day has to bring. Their faces make me grateful, my smile spreads and everyone breaks out in applause. I decipher a few, "Yeah Syd!" "You did it girl!" and "Woos" in the crowd, I yield my hands up and down, they lower their yells. "Hey everybody, We're down to the wire here. We're less than a day away. We've been working our asses off for a month and a half. I couldn't have ever gotten this done without any of you. I'm excited for everyone to see our hard work. I'm even more excited for you to see your hard work pay off."

I point to Iyo in the control center, He dims the lights and lower the projector screen. "I now present to you.. UPTXWN." Applause rings out as the projector displays a drone clip of High Bridge among the sunrise and Syd's voiceover, "Uptown, Home of the greats. From The Bronx, to Harlem. The place I know, the place I love." The six models she started with appear on the screen, daringly sitting on the railing, laughing with one another in their high end garments. "Our hustles.. It always had this special..thing about it. We always went a little harder. Thought a little smarter. Emerged to the top a bit faster." Photos of me and all of Uptown's finest begins scrolling through from right to left. From a photo of me and Dapper Dan when I was fresh out of college. Diddy and I when I was an intern at Chanel. With Kerry Washington a bit after Save the Last Dance came out when I was twelve. Sistah Souljah, Kid Capri, Bianca (aka Young B), Cam'ron, Juelz, and Jim Jones back when Rock-a-fella were still together, Kalis, and finally, A$AP Mob & me when they were fresh in the game back in 2011.

"And when we're on top, we set trends. We define eras. Their stamps will forever be evident in our culture. Here's mine. Here's UPTXWN." All of the photos scroll backwards and the screen goes black for a few seconds. Images of the Big L tribute wall outside of the Harlem Up Deli Market, in black and white appear, then the same original six models; Sam, Levi, Von, Jade, Deanna, and Cass kneeling at different levels, crowded around the wall. Making sure not to block his face or name. Then Pretty Flako instrumental bangs through the theater's speakers. The TV flake transition changes to the Bailey house shoot. The drone shot pans around the corner of the property, all twenty four models posing looking like royalty draped in over $80,000 worth of clothes collectively.  The visual pans over to a slowed down visual of Nina flashing her bottom grill, her thick frame vibing out to the up tempo beat. Then to Xierra kneeling beside her, giving face in her side profile. The screen shortly displays a wide pan of the property and models again, then switches to Levi. Iyo's suggested scene of displaying the details of his tattoos on his shirtless body-- while simultaneously showing the VVS necklace, the embroidery on the custom one of a kind jean jacket; came out perfectly.

The photos of each model in each of their looks scroll through at the right speed so each detail is fully displayed. Every model stands up, showing off as their photos went across the screen. As Gina's photoset emerges, I turn to the screen so I can roll my eyes. I instantly become reminded of how flirty she was with Erik before Yani had to snatch her up to take these.  Yani stands beside me, peeping the entire scene, "Girl, suck it up. She in it now. Let's get it over with." I shake it off, turning back to the models.  

The park Marcus Garvey Amphitheater scene pops up, it was a gloomy overcast. Which was perfect for the theme. As the looping instrumental repeats, each model was either sitting at the top of the folding seats, or crouched on the seat of the folding seats. The collective total of every look? $110,878. I'm lucky I got such great relationships with these clients and these models didn't fuck up any of they shit. The first visual was Von, on the center stage. His long hair hanging over his entire face. He rocked this black long open hooded jacket, shirtless. Displaying his massive musical themed chest piece. It gave me a grim reaper vibe that I was definitely looking for. The jacket was a piece I asked Chris Brown's people to create for their Black Pyramid line. They fucked with the vision and agreed to do it. Von flipped the bottom of the jacket back with force, the rest of the models appeared on stage, smoke filled the stage floor as the all black visual came to life. Gina and Cass rocked matching contrast dresses, Cass was the only model not in black that day. I put her in a white intricate lace Erdem Dress. Gina wore the matching Black dress.

Jade and Deanna were back to back. Jade was wearing a black deep v neck, with a leather ribbed comme des garcons jacket. With a cascading gold necklace reaching her stomach. Accompanied with black and gold aviator Louis Vuitton shades,  Black ripped Levis I thrifted on the East side, and Jefferey Campbell's Legion booties. Deanna was wearing my favorite outfit of that day. A black long sleeved Oscar De La Renta ruffled shirt with cut out shoulders, a Burberry black ruffled skirt, and black Averil Doc Martin boots. Her bamboos and three finger ring spelling out her name put a street edge on her look that was near and dear to my Harlem bred heart. GG beat every woman's face and gave them the same cohesive smokey eye with the black, In The Spirit MAC lipstick. The only difference makeup wise was Cass' white undereye liner.

Once again the photos of every model starts cascading slideshow style. Johan was my second favorite look for that shoot, He rocked a black high low long sleeved Alexander Wang shirt, black distressed Givenchy jeans, and his personal black on black Ralph Lauren Hi Boots. I was going to put him in some other shoes, but I saw the ones he had on and they looked way better with the fit. We accompanied that look with a black Cuban link necklace, the matching bracelet, and Dolce & Gabana retro flip up  round glasses.

Everyone's rave reactions trigger my tears of joy, it's all of our first times seeing the visual's final product and I couldn't be any more proud. This has really been my baby. I've nurtured it, I've put in the work for it. This moment was like its graduation. Everyone looks at me, "Awwwwww!" Yani gives me a big hug, "I'm proud of you, kid." I squeeze her, "I'm proud of us, kid." I push out a laugh.

The final shoot displayed the brownstones on Mount Morris Park, the street right outside of Marcus Garvey Park. Where my parents' old brownstone was. I only needed my original six for this one, since all twenty-four wouldn't fit on the stoop. That day, it was sunny. Not one cloud in sight. Perfect lighting for the intimate shoot. The theme was spring, specifically, pastel colors.

I dressed Jade in a pastel yellow Ted Baker maxi dress, I accessorized her outfit with vintage canary yellow teardrop earrings with a matching tennis bracelet. She wore some nude Christian Louboutin spiked peep toed heels. She stands up when she finds her face and yells while twerking, "Long Hair! Red Bottoms! Long Hair! Red Bottoms!" Everyone, including me burst out in laughter. She kept saying it so much during the shoot, I let her keep them. Paid the $1,500 tab too. Deanna was draped in a Monroe and Main white two piece suit with black accents on the collar and cuffs. We accompanied that with my personal pearls I got from my mom before she passed, some white Manolo Blahnic pumps, and some VVS diamond earrings while her hair popped in the sunlight. She wore her low cut with a rose gold tint. I put Cass in a pair of nude Emilio Pucci wide legged trousers, a White Alexander McQueen peplum top, and a matching nude blazer was draping over her shoulders. Her accessories was a silver double C Chanel choker, charm rings from Tiffany Co., and a vintage Chanel crossbody, gifted from Karl Lagerfeld himself. He said I needed something old for my collection.

The guys were matching my girls' fly. Von parallels Deanna with a Tom Ford cotton two piece suit,  I laced him with some white Versace loafers with the gold Medusa emblem on the center, with the Cuban link chain Johan wore at the Marcus Garvey shoot, and golden Panthere De Cartier  rounded sunglasses. Levi's parallel was for Jade's look. He wore a pastel yellow Calvin Klein. Accompanied with a large size canary ring on his index finger, and the Burberry vintage loafers. Sam paralleled Cass, in a nude ASOS suit with the matching vest. I kept it simple and just accessorized it with my dad's gold pocket watch and black Stacy Adams dress shoes.

I thought the presentation was over, but then the screen transitioned to me working behind the scenes. Me pointing and directing at the Bailey house, with the wind blowing like crazy, me filming on Highbridge at the crack of dawn, Iyo even snuck some footage of the meeting we had in Morningside Park. It looks like Yani snuck some footage of me putting the image board for the fashion show stage together as well. I'm just admiring the scene of watching the hard nights and amazing days I shared with an incredible team. The last shot was me sitting on my old stoop. I was just reminiscing, thinking of how my mom, dad, and I would eat ice cream in the spring in the same spot. I looked up, as I normally do when thinking of them, put my hands together and mumbled, 'allah , shkraan lak.' The camera was too far to catch my phrase. Afterward I bowed between my legs so I could have my emotional moment to myself.

Everyone hops on the stage to crowd around me and initiated a group hug. Once everyone slightly disbursed, I see Gina still sitting in the audience with Erik, I guess he just got here. I hear the doors open again and see Yasin, smiling at me.

--

By half past 10, everyone had gone home except for Yani, Nina, Gina, Erik, and Yasin. Nina is waiting on Rashad to pick her up, and I guess Gina is looking to Erik to take her home. She's literally been all up under him since his arrival.

"Tomorrow's gonna go great, babe. You got a great team behind you, you've been super focused. It can't go any other way." Yasin lands a kiss on my temple as I blush at his encouragement. I blink in Erik's direction, he's giving the same look he gave us at Rashad's party. He then grips Gina, pulling her closer to him, "Yeah. You got it Syd. We gon head out. See ya later." with that, Erik and Gina strut to the exit. Nina's phone dings, "Oh, bae is here! See ya tomorrow Syd! We gon kill it, boo!" She hugs me and Yani then jogs out the double doors, "Nice seeing you again Yasin!" he nods, "You too!"

--

"So tell me something about you, Sin! I've only talked about me when I see you. What was lil Yasin like?" We are strolling down Saint Nick Avenue after getting grilled jerk chicken from King Barka. We decide to sit on a park bench right outside Saint Nick Park to chat since I wasn't quite ready to go home. "Well, I was born and raised in Brooklyn. Flatbush. My moms is from Brooklyn as well. My dad's side of the family is from Harlem, the eastside, but they love uptown just as much." I grin as he continues, "I was a bad ass kid growing up. Always fighting, getting into trouble at school, I even got expelled in middle school." "Well damn! How did you go from that to--" I wave my hands around his silhouette, "This?" He takes a bite out of his chicken and flashes a sexy smile, "My mom sent me to live with my Uncle. The one that retired and gave me the maintenance business."

"Ahhhh, I see. He whipped you into shape?" He snorts, "Oh, he whipped me alright. A lot. He taught me what it is to be a man." "Where was your father?" He continues eating, pausing his story for a spell, "Uh.. He was in prison. He pushed weight for about ten years, he got caught up. He didn't snitch, so he got twenty. He got out after eight years for good behavior." "How's your relationship with him now?" He shugs, "We're cool. We had a little spat when he first got out. I had to be the man of the house for a while for my moms and sisters. I resented him for it." I take a hold of his free hand, "We patched things up recently." "So him and your mom still married?" He nods, "Yeah. Moms held him down. That lady.. She deserves the world." He finishes his dish as he glows at the mention of his mother.

"She had to get two jobs before I turned sixteen and worked with my Uncle. She held down our household for three years, alone, before I was able to step in and help her. After that, she went back to school. She finished the year before my pops got out, now she's a nurse. Doing what she loves to do." "That's great. That's what life is about, doing what you love." "Definitely." He throws away our empty plates and we keep walking down the avenue, "So what do you love to do Yasin?" "I love music." I stop in my tracks.

"Let me guess, you rap?" he sucks his teeth, "Nah, girl. I play instruments. Three; Acoustic guitar, piano, and snare drum." "Ah, okay! When did you discover your talent?" "I was... ten, I think?" "You make songs?" He pulls a slick move behind me, grabbing me by my waist. I roll my eyes as we continue to walk, "I haven't made a song in five years." "Why not?" I feel him shrug behind me, "I've been busy." I turn around to grab his hands, "You're never too busy to do what you love." He smiles at me, I sense the same glow about him that he had when he spoke of his mom. "Especially when it makes you this happy...just talking about it." Yasin closes the gap between us, "Maybe, you're right. Look at you. Doing what you love. You're inspiring Syeda. Beautiful, too." He strokes my left cheek with his palm. I freeze, much like I did a couple weeks back in my apartment with Erik.

Speaking of Erik, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do about what happened since my dad's birthday. I guess Erik knows what he wants, and that's Gina. So why am I freezing? What's stopping me? All of a sudden my inner thoughts are silenced when Yasin seals our distance, gently kissing me. My knees buckle and he hoists me up by my butt, cuffing the bottom of my cheeks. That makes me even weaker, he breaks off from me, "Damn girl. You good?" My eyes flutter as I respond, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm good." I pull him by his shirt to kiss him again.

--

[claws-n-salt]

Crackmas || Day 6

Crackmas Day 6 || Akumatized || Marinette gets a little too angry when she's looking at another of Hawkmoth's terrible akuma designs. When she gets akumatized, she sets out to fix some of Hawkmoth's mistakes. Unfortunatly for Chat Noir, his redesign is a bit different than the other's

Rated T || 1,441 Words

Cross posted on Ao3 || FF

Prompts can be found here from @mlcrackmas

Buy me a Coffee?

Re-Designer

Marinette grumbled to herself as she clicked through the new pictures Alya had posted on the Ladyblog. The most recent akuma design was, yet again, atrocious. For someone who was able to control water, the akuma’s outfit had been garishly yellow with stripes of bubblegum pink and chartreuse. Marinette could have designed something better in her sleep. In fact, she had come up with a better design the moment she’d heard the akuma’s name and found out their powers.

She was so busy fuming over Hawkmoth’s incapability to consider even the simplest color chart, that she didn’t hear the flapping of wings until Tikki shrieked as a butterfly landed on the pen Marinette was holding. “Re-Designer, I am Hawkmoth. If you agree to…”

“Shut it moth man. I can feel myself getting worse at designing just by hearing your voice.” Marinette felt the akumatization wash over her. “Let’s see what trash color combination you put me in.” She walked over to the mirror and faked a gag. “Really, orange and blue ruffles? I’m personally offended.” Re-Designer pointed her pen, now turned short wand, at her own outfit, changing it to a fitted jacket and a tailored pant that fit impeccably, both in a tasteful dark maroon. One of the lapels of the jacket held a little slot for Re-Designer to put her wand. “Now this is what I call a supervillain’s outfit.” Re-Designer did a little spin for herself in the mirror, ending with a wicked smile at herself. “Now it’s time to fix some mistakes.”

Knowing exactly where to start, Re-Designer made one more minor change to her outfit design. Pressing the small button than was now above the wand slot, a small jetpack formed on Re-Designer’s back before she went up to her balcony and jetted off.

A few minutes later, Re-Designer landed outside the house of the person who had had the worst ever akuma design, Nino Lahiffe, aka The Bubbler. Lucky for her, Nino was currently walking out of the building. “Well, hey there Bubbler.”

Nino spun around from where he’d been locking the door. “Whoa, Marinette, you scared me. Wait, did you just call me Bubbler?” Re-Designer smiled sweetly at the confused boy in front of her. She was so focused on Nino that she didn’t notice Adrien walking down the street towards Nino’s house.

“That I did, Bubbles.” Pulling out her wand from its holder, Re-Designer gently waved it around. “I was just thinking about how terrible your design was when you were The Bubbler so I thought Re-Designer could do a little, well, redesigning.” Re-Designer let a hand fly to her mouth in a signature anime villain cackle as she watched Nino’s eyes widened when it dawned on him that she was akumatized.

Unbeknownst to Re-Designer, Adrien realized she was akumatized the exact same moment Nino did, and immediately dove into the bushes he’d been walking passed. Chat Noir immerged moments later, slowly beginning to make his way around the akumatized girl.

Re-Designer gave her wand a final twirl then pointed it at Nino, directing a bolt of sparkling pink light at him. The glittering wave washed over Nino, leaving him in a dark navy suit with embroidered bubbles in a light blue thread snaking up the side of the suit, from the right hem of his pant leg to the curve of his right shoulder. In his hands was a much sleeker bubble wand in a light blue matching the embroidered bubbles. “Um, Mari, not that I don’t mind the redesign, but um, it wasn’t really necessary.”

Re-Designer beamed at Nino. “Of course it was. Hawkmoth made you a costume that nearly caused permanent blindness to anyone who viewed it. I had to fix that travesty.” Nino’s eyes flashed to a place behind Re-Designer. Right as Chat Noir swiped to grab her, Re-Designer jumped to the side.

Whirling on Chat, Re-Designer pointed the wand at the superhero. “You know Kitty, your suit could use a little redesigning too.” Chat went to grab for Re-Designer’s wand, but pink sparkles washed over him before he could.

Re-Designer smirked. “That’s better.” Chat looked down at his suit which had shrunk down to a pair of black shorts, his belt tail, and the gold bell which was now attached to a choker like collar. As Nino doubled over in fits of laughter, Chat gaped.

Shaking off his shock, Chat sauntered towards a still smirking Re-Designer. “You know Marinette, if you wanted to see me with my shirt off, you could have just asked.”

“Well what would have been the fun in-“ Re-Designer’s words abruptly stopped as Chat plucked the wand from her hand. She hadn’t realized how close Chat had gotten.

“I will just hold onto this until Ladybug gets here.” Chat glared at Nino who was now sitting on his stairs, unable to hold himself up from laughing so hard. “How do I change my suit back Mari?”

“That was crafty kitty. You won’t be able to change your suit back until Ladybug uses the cure and that won’t be happening anytime soon so…” Re-Designer causally flicked one of her earrings. Re-Designer giggled when Chat gasped in realization.

“Be right back, stay here.” Chat ran into Nino’s house, both Re-Designer and Nino looking after him in confusion. A moment later, darkness rippled over Re-Designer, leaving an unakumatized Marinette in its wake.

Looking around in confusion, Marinette noticed a still suited up Nino on his stairs. “Wow Nino, that’s a really nice suit.”

“Um, thanks. You made it.” Brows drawing together, Marinette looked at her friend in confusion.

“I what? What do you…” Marinette trailed off when Chat stepped out of the house in his new and improved suit. She didn’t know whether to stare or laugh. Staring was what she went with. Slack jawed, Marinette watched Chat Noir waltz over to her in what looked to be more of a stripper outfit than a superhero suit. Had she done that?

“Sorry Nino but the princess and I need to go deal with something.” Marinette didn’t know if Nino had said anything in response because Chat Noir pressed her close and extended his baton, lifting them both into the air. Was Marinette internally screaming because she was currently pressed up against her very attractive partner’s bare chest? Yes.

When they’d made it a little ways from Nino’s house, Chat Noir set Marinette down and handed her the akuma, which he’d trapped in a glass jar she hadn’t even noticed. She’d been a bit distracted. “I think you can take care of this.” Chat raised a brow at her in expectation.

Marinette groaned as she took a few steps back from her nearly naked partner. “Not only did I turn you into a stripper while akumatized, but I also told you who I was?” Chat nodded, grinning mischievously.

Chat was glad Marinette had forgotten his next words when the akumatization broke, because it was prefect for his next move. “You know My Lady, you could have just asked if you wanted to see me out of the suit.” Before Marinette could protest, Chat Noir released his transformation.

Marinette should have been more surprised to see Adrien Agreste standing in front of her, now fully clothed. “Honestly, I thought Chat’s abs looked familiar.”

“Oh, you mean these abs?” Adrien slipped his shirt over his head. He gestured towards his sculpted stomach. “You know, the ones you were so desperate to see that you got yourself akumatized.”

Marinette only let herself admire Adrien’s physique for a moment before she snapped her eyes back to his face. “Excuse me, I got akumatized because of how trash Hawkmoth’s designing skills are when it comes to akuma outfits.” Smirking, Marinette nodded towards Adrien’s shirtless form. “This was just a happy accident.”

“Oh really?” Adrien began to saunter up to Marinette. “A happy accident?”

“Of course. In fact, maybe I should thank Hawkmoth for his appalling taste if this is the outcome.” Marinette tilted her head up towards Adrien as he stopped in front of her.

“Hmm, maybe you should.” Their lips met for a moment before laughter bubbled up from Marinette.

“Sorry, but I just had a thought. What if Hawkmoth was a fashion designer or something. It would be so ironic if he was in the fashion industry, yet created such distasteful outfits.”

Adrien joined Marinette in her laughter. “That would be hilarious!”

The two heroes laughed at the outlandish idea of Hawkmoth being a fashion designer. Across town, Gabriel Agreste overdramatically monologed about next summer’s fashion line inspired by The Bubbler’s outfit while sitting alone in his dark room of butterflies.

[winetae]

⇾ all that is gold (m)

⇁ female reader x taehyung

⇁ smut, angst || roommate!au + sugar baby!au

⇁ sub!taehyung, skype sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, possessiveness, slight breath play, oral sex, dirty talk, thigh riding, tae ends up sort of a switch? idk

⇁  11.2k

. . .

As a college student struggling to make ends meet, Taehyung resorts to a less than ethical method to satisfy his appetite for expensive treats. The last thing he wants is for you to find out how he acquires the Gucci in his closet… however this proves to be difficult when you are his roommate.

↳ or : Taehyung is a sugar baby and somehow thinks he can keep this a secret

a/n; ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

.

“Tae, a package arrived for you earlier this morning,” he hears you say, a piece of toast dangling between your teeth.

At your words, he almost chokes on his coffee, the hot liquid scalding his tongue.

Taehyung watches you scramble for your textbooks, muttering a number of colorful curses under your breath, and breathes a sigh of relief. He’s constantly worried that you’ll start asking what his frequent packages contain, or worse… that you’ll start to question who sends them to him.

“Maybe it’s time to invest in an alarm clock,” he advises, hiding his amused smile behind his mug of coffee.

“Fuck you,” you glare. He’s known you long enough to know your irritation isn’t faked, but it’s hard for him to take you seriously when you have crumbs sprinkled over the corner of your lips. “You know I’ve tried everything.”

“You have.” The thin walls separating your rooms make it impossible for him to ignore the ten different alarms you’ve set up every two minutes to help you wake up. Maybe a lesser roommate would have thrown a fit, but Taehyung isn’t really one to whine. There are worse songs to wake up to, and besides he enjoys eating breakfast with you. Over the past year the both of you had slipped into a comfortable routine: he would make the coffee and you would prepare the food. You’re not the greatest chef, but Taehyung never complains, especially when he himself can’t be trusted with the stove.

“Hey, come here,” he motions you over with a wave.

“What is it now?” you huff, slipping on your shoes. He wonders if he should point out your socks don’t match. “I’m late, Tae.”

“Just a sec.” He watches you reluctantly walk over, heavy bag weighing down one of your shoulders. Your face is slightly pink and freshly scrubbed clean, hair still damp. He likes you best like this—fresh, all softness and no edges.

He smiles and leans in close enough to smell the scent of your jasmine soap. Taehyung knows you’re in a hurry but he can’t resist taking his time, fingers slowly brushing away the leftover traces of your toast. The pads of his fingertips linger against your soft lips for a second too long, and he has to force himself to swallow down his feelings. Only the sheer force of will makes him pull back, his hand falling uselessly to his side. It’s not even been a minute and he already misses the proximity.

Taehyung hopes nothing in his face gives it away.

“There. Wouldn’t want you to go to class with food all over your face.”

You huff, rubbing the bottom of your face with your sleeve.

“Whatever.” With another glance to your watch, you wince. “Ah, fuck, I’m really late. I’ll see you later tonight, okay? Like we planned?”

“Mmhm,” he nods, watching you scamper away, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Sure thing, doll. I’ll see you tonight.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, Taehyung springs up, ready to retrieve his package. Usually he makes sure to wake up earlier than you, not wanting you to intercept it and start asking unwanted questions. He doesn’t like lying, but he doesn’t want you to find out the truth either. More than anything, he’s scared of how you will react.

When the brown box finally makes its way into his hands, the first thing he notices is that it’s smaller than the previous one he received three days ago. He weighs the parcel in his hands, impatient and eager to find out what she’s sent him this time. The size of his gifts never matter to him because he knows each of them are probably more than he deserves.

As much as he likes be dotted on, the ridiculous sums of money he’s been showered in still make him slightly uncomfortable. Even so, he can’t help himself from eyeing the contents of the box, his curiosity outweighing the guilt that slowly eats away his insides. He has an unreasonable appetite for pretty, expensive treats. His desires make him forget about the side effects, even though he knows his obsession with acquiring the unobtainable is unhealthy. With every new costly addition to his growing collection of leathers and furs, he lets himself be seduced by the opulence and delicacies only money can obtain.

Hidden beneath the white tissue paper, a delicate velvet choker lined with platinum and diamonds sits in its center. Taehyung gulps audibly, wondering how much a thing must cost.

Just then, as if sensing his awe, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Without looking, he picks up the call, already knowing who it might be.

“Do you like it?” her honeyed voice greets him. Although this is far from the first time she’s called him, his heart rate still picks up and his mouth goes dry.

She hasn’t called in a while, long enough for him to start wondering if she had finally gotten bored of him, if someone more interesting had managed to capture her attention.

“Of course I do,” he answers, index finger smoothing over the thin strip of fabric.

He has never owned a choker before, not even the ones made out of cheap polyester easily purchasable online. And this—this he would probably never be able to afford, not even if he emptied out his measly savings and saved up for months.

Not only does it look like something out of a fashion catalog, it feels expensive.

Still, despite it being months since this arrangement has taken place, he could never get used to the incredible amounts of money spent on him.

What had started out as relatively small gifts—an assortment of crisp bow ties and a Gucci wallet—had soon become piles of leather jackets and silk chemises.

Now when Taehyung opens his closet, it’s bursting with an eclectic mixture of designer button downs and worn-in sweaters, the bold prints clashing with the rest of his faded clothes.

“I thought you would like it… When I saw it, I knew it would look pretty on you. It’s vintage.” He imagines her meticulously picking out the choker just for him and bites back his smile, even though he’s alone in his room and no one is there to witness how much the thought pleases him. “Can you try it on for me?”

“Mhmm,” he immediately agrees, trying to unclasp the choker with one hand while still keeping the phone pressed to his ear. After a minute of struggling he manages to slip the material around his neck. He moves in front of his floor-length mirror to appraise himself and—oh.

“How does it look?”

“It’s…” He swallows thickly, feels the black velvet wrap around his neck snugly. “Tight.”

She hums, seemingly distracted. “Is that so?”

“It’s nice,” he hurriedly adds on, not wanting to seem ungrateful. He wishes he was more verbose and could tell her how much he likes it, how much he appreciates it. But he has nothing to offer her other than his sincerity. “It’s pretty.”

The word pretty doesn’t do it justice. The shade of midnight stands out against his golden skin, the diamonds sparkling like tiny stars. It makes his neck look longer, more delicate. Even though the fit is snug, the material doesn’t irritate his skin. He feels like a different person, more luxurious and sophisticated, like the version of himself he wishes he could be.

“I want you to show me how pretty it looks,” she instructs. Her voice is never harsh or demanding, but there’s something about it that makes his spine stand straight. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes,” he hurriedly complies, not wanting to displease her. “Ah… Do you want me to take a picture?”

“I think…” He can hear the ruffling of papers on the other end of the phone. “I think I have enough time right now to video chat.”

His eyes widen. It’s been a while since they last saw each other, and even longer since they used skype to communicate… On a normal day, she enjoys teasing him endlessly, sometimes pushing him to the point of tears. Overall, Taehyung enjoys their sessions, likes the way the sex is so drastically different from everything he’s ever experienced.

“Alright. Hold on, let me get my laptop.” It takes a moment before he can sit back comfortably on his bed, laptop perched on his lap. He waits for her okay so he can disconnect the call.

As he waits for her to call him back on skype, he starts to feel self-conscious. He looks down at his outfit and regrets not changing. The shirt he has on is an old thing he likes to sleep in—a plain white tee with a coffee stain near the collar that he has never figured out how to get rid of. His eye bags are prominent from lack of sleep and no screen filter could probably mask those shadows completely. He’ll never admit it, but Taehyung usually spends hours picking out the right clothes when he has to visit her. Today he doesn’t have that kind of time to spare. He doesn’t want to keep her waiting, especially if she’s calling him during her work hours, but he’s afraid his appearance will disappoint her.

It’s not the first time he contemplates why such a sophisticated and dignified woman would spend her time and money on a broke college student who doesn’t even have the rest of his life figured out. At first it had been insanely flattering, but as time passed and the amount of gifts kept increasing, it was impossible not to start feeling just a little bit inadequate and undeserving. With her endless supply of money and those sharp, exotic features, Taehyung is positive she could easily find someone more suited to her level.

His musings are interrupted by the skype ringtone that echoes loudly in the closed space of his room. Her face lights up his screen and he drinks in her features greedily. As usual, she is well put together; not a hair is out of place—the silky strands held back in a tight ponytail.

“Oh, that does look nice,” she says in lieu of greeting, her dark eyes fixed on her newest present. “I knew it would.”

Her eyelashes are doubled with black mascara, the sharp black lines accentuating the intensity of her stare.

“Thank you,” he looks down, not able to meet her strong gaze. “I mean, thanks for the gift. You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” she smiles, resting her chin in her hands. “I wanted to see you wear it. You suit Cartier.”

He’s not sure if he does. The miniature diamonds look out of place on him, especially with the shirt he has on. But he wants to believe her words, wants to believe that such an extravagant piece belongs on his neck.

“It’s a bit much.” He fidgets, stretching his hand to tug on the material around his neck. “We haven’t done anything lately…”

It’s what bothers him the most. There’s supposed to be an exchange of some kind, but Taehyung is the only one receiving.

“Stop thinking that way,” she admonishes, rolling her eyes playfully. “I wanted to treat you… I know you’ve been working hard.”

“Yeah…” He chews the inside of his cheek, trying to cast aside the guilty feelings that bubble in his stomach. He knows he’s not obliged to give her services for every present she decides to spoil him with, but Taehyung lives by the principle of give and take. And with every gift somehow more luxurious than the last, the balance between the both of them keeps tipping.

“Why don’t you show me how thankful you are?” she suggests, leaning back in her chair. “We have some time before my next appointment.”

Appointment?

He’s spent countless hours memorizing the curves and dips of her body that he could name the constellations of beauty marks scattered down her back. Yet, despite knowing her body intimately, Taehyung is always reminded in times like these that he doesn’t know her at all. It’s not the first time he asks himself what kind of occupation she has, what kind of life she lives.

He suddenly takes notice of her surroundings—the white walls, the minimalist decor, the glass panels and high ceilings. It looks like a high-end office in the uptown district, the kind of work place you only see in dramas. His inquisitive nature wants to ask her if she’s calling him during her work hours, but he ends up keeping the question to himself. Even if there are certain boundaries that separate the two of them—unspoken rules, limits that he has imposed upon himself—Taehyung is scared one of these days he’ll toe over those lines. Because even if he is curious, he’s constantly reminded that he doesn’t belong in the world she lives in.

“What do you need me to do?”

His mind races with images of their previous encounters over skype. With her, he’s never sure what she’ll ask him to do… He could be asked to put on a show for her. Her requests are never predictable.

“Hmm,” she tilts her head and leans forward slightly, her cleavage peaking through the opening of her blouse. Taehyung suspects every action of hers is calculated and deliberate, with the sole purpose of rendering him weak. “It’s been a while since we’ve played together… I’ve missed you.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip nervously, wondering what kind of game she wants to play this time.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Taehyung knows those are the words she wants to hear. He thinks they might be true, to some degree. There’s certainly a physical attraction between them. But what they have… He knows it isn’t a real relationship, not in the traditional sense anyway.

“Can you get yourself hard for me? I want to see you.”

Taehyung wipes his clammy palms on his sweatpants. He’s not sure he can get in the right mood. It’s easier to let loose and give in to his base desires when he meets her in fancy hotel suites or in her upscale penthouse. In the confines of his room, sitting across a screen, it’s hard to shift into the persona she wants from him. But he needs to try.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll guide you through it. Just follow what I say,” she soothes, her sugary voice encouraging him to relax.

He tries his best to relax and do what she wants.

“It would be better if I could see you in person… We always have so much fun. Last time we played together, you came so hard,” she grins, eyelashes fluttering close. “I still have the stain on my skirt.”

“Y- you didn’t throw it out?”

“Sometimes I’ll wear it to work,” she flashes him a smirk that makes his stomach tighten. “I think of all the ways you begged for me.”

Taehyung isn’t sure if she’s messing around with him. It’s hard to tell with her. She likes to rile him up, mostly because it works every time. Even now, he’s bombarded with images of her walking around an office in her tight black pencil skirt; the faint traces of his orgasm visible to anyone who dared looked closely enough. The fact that someone like her would willingly parade herself stained in his desire makes his skin heat up. He palms himself through the thick material of his sweatpants, closing his eyes, trying to recall the events that occurred the night she let him soil her skirt. Taehyung tries to picture her clothed body an arm’s reach away, teasing him.

“That’s it, just relax,” she coaxes. “I know it’s better when I’m there, but you just have to pretend for now… Hmm, want to know what I would do to you if I was there with you?”

Taehyung nods eagerly in response, adjusting the laptop so she can have a better view of what he is doing. His camera isn’t the best quality but he hopes she can still enjoy the show he’ll put on.

“I would probably tease you over your pants… But my mouth would feel much better than your hand, wouldn’t it? It’s too bad I can’t be there to hear those pretty sounds in person. I love the noises you make just for me.”

The empty promise tempts him, and he barely holds in his groan. He can count the number of times her lips have touched his cock on one hand, despite their countless sessions together. The thought of having something more than just the usual teasing touches makes his member begin to stiffen in his grasp. He quickly pulls down the waistband of his sweats and boxers; he doesn’t even bother to take them completely off—just leaves them bunched up on his thighs.

Taehyung tries to think of ways to make it look sexier but his movements are awkward, his calloused skin rubbing painfully against his shaft. He spits into his palm and uses the wetness to stroke himself off, acutely aware of her intense scrutiny. The feeling isn’t as good as a mouth, but the glide across his hard shaft is smoother than before.

Soon his mind begins to wander… He tries to picture her sitting between his legs, slender fingers replacing his own. With every stroke, he imagines her leaning closer, hot breath tickling his red tip, teasing him further. She would want to hear him, would want to know how much she affects him. With this in mind, Taehyung whimpers loudly for effect, watching his screen between half-closed lids.

He might be mistaken but her breathing sounds a little uneven. “You’re not going to come already, are you?”

He shakes his head. It feels good but Taehyung is greedy and needs more before he can reach his end.

“If I gave you permission, what would you do to me? How would you please me?”

He worries his bottom lip at the unexpected question. What would he do if she was here by his side? He tries to envision her on his bed, hair splayed out on the cushion beneath her. Would she find his mattress too hard? His bed too small? Taehyung doesn’t know what he would do, if he’s being honest. When it comes to her, he’s lost without instructions. He doesn’t dare do anything without being prompted—too concerned she wouldn’t enjoy it.

Things would be different with you, he thinks. Just thinking about you tangled in his sheets, thin tank top riding up to expose your skin, has him gripping his member more firmly.

“I’d kiss your neck,” he manages to say. “Slowly. Gently.”

No biting, just soft kisses into the crook of your neck. He wants to take his time with you, wants to hear your breathing deepen and body squirm in unspoken desire. When he would finally kiss his way back up to your lips, your cheeks would flush a dusty rose color, his name falling prettily from your lips.

“I want to worship your body, spend all my time kissing and licking it until you can’t take it,” he continues, barely aware of her presence anymore.

It’s easy to imagine himself peeling off your shirt. Your skin would be so, so soft under his tongue, his lips, his fingers. He wants to learn what makes you moan, wants to memorize all the different ways that make you cry his name in need.

“I would take my time… And when I finally get to where you need me the most, I would give it to you hard.”

He imagines you wouldn’t need any foreplay, that you would just beg him to sink into you. He knows you would be able to take it, that your pussy was made for his cock. Of course he would give it to you. He would do anything you asked if it meant pleasing you.

Visions of you arching your back, of his hard member sliding in and out of your sopping core, make him twitch into his hand, tip leaking. He’s closer than ever to the edge, fucking into his hand like he would your hot, drenched pussy.

“Keep your eyes on me… You’re doing this for me, remember?” Her voice breaks his trance, and he struggles to keep his eyes fixed on the screen like she desires.

“Don’t come,” she orders in a firm tone.

But the fantasy he’s conjured in his head is still imprinted in the forefront of his mind.

“C-can’t, oh fuck,” he stutters, his hand moving over his slick shaft in determined strokes. “Fuck, I’m gonna–”

“Taehyung!” The sharp warning snaps him out of it. He looks back at the screen, desperation clear in his eyes, forehead matted with sweat. “If you come now, I’ll make sure you eat it up.”

He shudders and digs his fingernails into his palms, trying to ease off the edge. The sharp pinpricks of pain distract him momentarily. He tries to calm down, does his best to even out his breathing, but he can’t focus properly. He’s not sure if it’s another one of her empty threats, but the last thing he wants is for her to watch him eat his own semen. It feels dirty, somehow, and even more so because there’s a depraved part of him that enjoys the act.

He wants to call her bluff, knowing she doesn’t have the time to carry out her threat. He closes his eyes, thinks of you on your knees in front of him, taking him down your throat. For some reason he thinks you wouldn’t like to delay his orgasm. No, you would probably keep swallowing him down, even after he ejaculated into your mouth. You would lick him clean and keep licking, ignoring his protests, until he was fully hard again. Fuck, he would come as many times as you wanted, if it meant having you. He wants you so fucking much.

The muscles in his thighs and lower stomach tense.  It’s the only warning he gets before he explodes—hot, white fluid landing on his stomach, his thighs, the sheets. Sweat drenches the front of his old shirt and he can see the faint outline of his nipples through the damp fabric. He blinks lazily as the fog of lust clears up, realizing his mistake only too late.

“I’m sor—,” he swallows hard, choker constricting him. “I’m sorry. I tried to hold it off b—”

“I don’t want excuses,” she snaps, losing her composure. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to follow simple instructions.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats meekly, the tips of his ears burning in humiliation. He can’t believe he wasn’t able to control himself. Under her guidance, he was usually able to hold off for long periods of time.

“I don’t have time to deal with this properly right now. Come around at ten tonight.”

Taehyung nods quickly, not wanting to displease her further.

“Don’t be late,” she hides her warning with a smile. “I don’t want to punish you more than I already have to tonight.”

With a click, the image of her face fades out. Taehyung wipes his cum-covered hand on his already soiled boxers, fingers trembling.

.

.

It’s become routine.

In the mornings, he will wake up to a discreet package containing gorgeous, high-priced items of clothing. During the night, he’ll take a cab ride over to the uptown district and meet her in her fancy penthouse. Depending on her mood, he’ll either spend hours tied up to her bed, surrounded by feathered pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets, or on his knees, head buried between her thighs. There is never a time when he cums more times than her. Some days, he’s not allowed relief at all—especially if he’s displeased her.

He was worried today would be one of those days, but the sight of him wearing the Cartier choker must have excited her.

In the cab ride back home, Taehyung finds himself dozing off several times. His limbs feel heavy, and all he wants to do is let sleep claim him. He remembers she had offered to let him stay the night but he refused to cross that line, no matter how tired he got after their sessions. Siyeon isn’t one to beg, and she never presses the issue with words, but sometimes Taehyung wonders if she tries to fuck him to sleep. Like tonight for example…

His hand reaches for the choker around his neck, remembering the jeweled present she had been fixated on almost the entire night. He knows she likes when he wears the clothes she sends him, he can tell by the way her eyes gleam with possessiveness. Taehyung isn’t sure how he feels about that… What does she see exactly when she looks at him? Although the sex is more than satisfying, there are moments when it feels somewhat impersonal. Like she could be fucking anyone else and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Maybe he’s overthinking again. He thinks he should stop worrying so much. What they have is just sex. Good sex. Siyeon is rich and pretty, and in many aspects the ideal woman of many. There’s really no reason to complain. He’s accepted to put a price on his body in the form of opulent gifts. He’s accepted his choices but he’s not proud of himself. 

He can’t wait to take a shower and erase the traces of their encounter. He hates to be reminded of his questionable decisions. His desire to clean himself off and go to sleep helps him trudge up the three flights of stairs.

He freezes in the doorway when he sees you curled up on the couch. Automatically, his hand trails up to his neck, making sure the velvet choker has been taken off and put away.

The sound of the door opening must have jostled you awake; you rub your eyes, blinking up at him sleepily.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the couch,” he frowns.

“Tae… Where have you been? I tried calling you but your phone was off.”

“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?” he instantly worries, cursing himself for not checking his messages earlier. He walks over and crouches down so he can level his gaze with yours. His reaches out automatically to push a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Tae,” you wince, nose crinkling, moving your head away from his touch. Up close, he notices your makeup has smudged around your eyes. Usually he would tease you for looking like a raccoon but he has the presence of mind to know now isn’t the time to make fun of you. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“What?”

You run your fingers through your hair, looking away.

“It’s fine,” you utter, even though he can tell you don’t mean it. “We were supposed to have a movie night, but you must have been busy…”

“Oh shit.” He suddenly remembers that today is Friday, the day of the week reserved for lazy nights and movie marathons. “I’m so sorry… I forgot it was tonight.”

“Yeah, I realized,” you mutter, disappointment dripping from each syllable. “I’m okay with you changing your plans, but it would have been nice if you told me beforehand…”

“Hey,” he reaches out for your hand but you twist away from his grasp. That stings, probably more than it should. “I’m really sorry. I know I fucked up… I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you again.”

“Tae… What am I to you?”

The sudden question catches him off-guard, causing him to shake his head in confusion.

You let out a small laugh, eyes not meeting his. “Forget it.”

“No, tell me,” he insists.

You take your time before you respond. “All this time… I kept thinking you might like me back?” you confess nervously. “I don’t know why I thought that way.”

It’s hard to hear you over the hammering of his heart. Did he hear you correctly? Taehyung finds himself doubting the reality of the situation. How many times has he imagined this scenario? How many times has he daydreamed about you shyly confessing your feelings?

He says your name gently, ready to tell you how he feels. He wants to assure you that you’re right; he does like you, has liked you for the longest time. He wants to finally move on from that awkward place the both of you are stuck in—more than friends, but not quite lovers.

“Don’t, Tae,” you warn, cutting him off before he can continue. “Don’t tell me you like me back if you don’t mean it.”

“I do like you,” he insists, frowning. “I like you more than you think…”

He never imagined this scene would play out like this.

“Yeah?” you snort incredulously. “How can you expect me to believe you when you reek of sex?”

You eye the lavender bruises and crimson lip prints that paint his neck like a collar with ill-hidden contempt. It’s too late to cover them up now that you’ve seen them, but Taehyung still clutches his neck hoping to undo the damage.

He wants to tell you it’s just sex between Siyeon and him, nothing more. But he doesn’t want to let you believe she’s a random girl he hooks up with from time to time, because she’s not. It’s worse than that.

“__ …” He distances himself from you, suddenly ashamed. 

He can’t tell you the truth. You’re already disappointed enough with him and he doesn’t want to add on to that. Once again he’s reminded as to why he doesn’t deserve you. Even though he wants to be with you, he knows he’s not enough. He just hopes when tomorrow will come around that you’ll forgive him. 

.

.

Things don’t go back to normal. Somehow, you miraculously manage to wake up on time every morning, sneaking out of the shared apartment before he even has time to get up and make coffee. After several days, Taehyung notices that you’ve started to avoid the apartment. On the rare occasions he does catch you at home, you don’t spare him more than a polite greeting.

Taehyung doesn’t make any effort to close the growing rift that separates the both of you. How can he, when he knows you’re better off staying away from him? He can’t even dare to look you in the eye. The conversation he shared with you replays constantly in his mind and the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how right you are. How can you accept his feelings when he’s sleeping with another woman? He’s a fool for thinking that he could somehow continue to have both women in his life. Siyeon satisfies every material desire he has, which should be more than enough, except Taehyung craves your love and affection, too.

His secret weighs down on him more than ever. It’s all he can think about during lectures and his morning jog around campus. He can’t concentrate on his work when his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. When he passes by your room, sometimes he lingers in front of your door, trying to work up the courage to talk to you again.

He knows he can’t face you when he’s still accepting Siyeon’s gifts.

If he was a better person, he would have ended things with her a long time ago. If has an ideal man, he would have never agreed to this in the first place.

It’s the third Sunday morning without you when he finally reaches a decision. Taehyung stares at your vacant seat while sipping his coffee, the smell of burnt toast still lingering in the air. He misses your soggy scrambled eggs, the way the two of you would curl up on the small couch together and watch cartoons. He misses the sound of your laughter when he cracks a joke and the way you call him Tae and not Taehyung.

Even though dressing up in exquisite fabrics bring him great joy, Taehyung won’t let himself cast away his chance to be with you. He knows he can’t let himself mess this up.

That’s how he finds himself in Siyeon’s penthouse on a Sunday night.

It’s the first time he’s initiated any contact with her. It’s also the first time he hasn’t put any effort into his appearance. He feels a bit silly standing in the middle of her luxurious penthouse in his hockey jersey and track shoes, especially when she’s always refined and elegant.

“I think we should end this.” He doesn’t want to draw it out, too afraid he’ll end up losing his nerve.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. All his muscles are tense with the effort of not squirming under her scrutiny.

“Are you… saying you want to walk away from this? From all of it?”

“Yes,” he swallows, doing his best not to avert his eyes from her intimidating gaze. He needs her to know he’s serious about his decision.

“If that’s what you want.”She tries to sound detached but he knows better. Even if she remains for the most part a mystery to him, Taehyung can tell he’s hurt her pride.

“I got these for you yesterday when I was out,” she shows him the shopping bags by the door. “I was going to send them later, but you can take them now and consider them parting gifts.”

He doesn’t move. He feels his jaw flex despite his efforts to stay disinterested. Why was she always tempting him? It was just like her to throw out one last bone to see if he would bite.

“Try on the clothes, Taehyung.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“After everything I’ve done for you… surely, you’ll let me have this?” She arches an eyebrow at him expectantly.

He bites the inside of his cheek and considers her last request.

“Just be good one last time and try them on. I picked this out just for you, after all. They’re yours… regardless of your decisions. It would be such a shame to let them go to waste.”

Her words mock him, entice him. There’s no use pretending that he doesn’t want to try on the garments she has carefully picked out just for him. She has the tact not to leave the price tags on, but one glance at them and he can tell they’re all in the thousands. He wants to know how the soft fabric will slide over his skin, how much better he’ll look in clothes that are worth more than anything else he owns.

He pulls off his jersey, itching to try on the brand new clothes. He knows he shouldn’t but the rational part of him fizzles out as soon as his hand comes into contact with the soft cashmere. Every time he’s amazed at how she always gets his measurements right.

“Don’t forget the scarf.”

He hesitates. There is no doubt that the blend of blues and reds is beautiful. But whether it’s a Gucci scarf or a Cartier choker, Taehyung is unsure if wearing something around his neck is the right thing to do in this situation.

As he ties the square of spun silk around the column of his neck, he imagines her eyes darken with something akin to possessiveness like they have done all the times before.

She steps closer and reaches for the printed silk, retying the knot so that the fabric clings tightly around his throat. When he swallows, the silky material digs into his skin and restricts his breathing.

“There,” she pats his cheek in a show of mock affection. He can’t help but feel a bit like a dog—collared, groomed, trained.

His nostrils flare in protest, but he bites his tongue. He stares straight ahead, not daring to look down as her delicate hand trails down the Gucci sweater. He’s hyper-aware of her presence, from the warm breath that hits the sensitive skin of his neck to the smell of her overbearing Chanel perfume.

“Who is she?” she questions, voice low and husky.

“W-What?” He fails to keep his voice steady.

“The girl you’re leaving me for, who is she?” He averts his eyes when she pursues, unrelenting.

She grips his cock through his jeans, making him jump in surprise. He’s ashamed to find out he’s already half hard. He doesn’t know why his body is betraying him now of all times. Maybe he’s been conditioned to expect sex whenever he sees her. Maybe he’s just fucked up.

“Is she pretty?”

He refuses to answer. He doesn’t want to get dragged into another one of her games. And he has no intention of bringing you into the mix.

“Have you fucked her?” she continues, fingers pressing down on his zipper.

He finally looks up, hackles raised. He knows she only wants a reaction from him, but he can’t help but take the bait.

“Don’t talk about her,” he hisses between his teeth.

It feels inherently wrong. The two women in his life are not supposed to mix. You belong in two different worlds, worlds that are separated by the number in your bank accounts, by the tags on your clothes. She belongs to the unobtainable—a sparkling fantasy world that he can visit in exchange for his body. And even though that attracts him, Taehyung has finally realized what he really wants. 

“Or what?” she laughs airily, eyes glinting in the dimly lit room.

Any response he could have had is cut short once she reaches down the front of his pants to grip his already semi-erect shaft.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip, watching her hand squeeze his hardening length once, twice. It takes everything in him to stop himself from thrusting his hips into her warm palm, seeking more friction. He can already feel pearls of sweat drip down the side of his face, can taste the iron on his tongue as he falls deeper into a haze of lust. With every upward stroke he’s this much closer to giving in and he hates it. He hates how powerless he is against her, hates how weak his body is.

“Do you think she’ll fuck you as good as me?”

The mention of you snaps him out of it temporarily. Is he really letting himself be coerced with a dick rub and a handful of designer clothes? Is he really that weak?

He lets her back him up towards the leather couch, still unsure about this predicament. With a hard push, he’s forced to sit down. Her face is a deceptive mask of calmness but he readies himself for the storm that’s about to hit.

Taehyung doesn’t expect her to fall to her knees in front of him, unzipping his jeans slowly. He stares at her in disbelief, wondering how far she will go. Is she trying to prove a point? 

“She can’t give you what I give you,” she murmurs, grip tightening around his member. “She can’t make you cum like I do.”

“Sh-shut up,” he gasps as her hand encloses over his leaking tip. “Shut up. Please stop talking.”

“What was that?” She pulls back, coy smile painted on. “Say that again.”

He expects her to reprimand him with more torturous teasing, not shift forward to take his hard length into her mouth. Taehyung watches, helpless to the onslaught of pleasure as her hot mouth dips down slowly. The wet warmth wraps around his cock perfectly, her tongue stimulating every nerve ending. He should be putting up more of a fight, but his attempts at resistance quickly crumble away with every sweep of her wicked tongue. 

She’s never blown him quite like this. Usually she’ll take her time and only give him what he needs after copious amounts of begging. Even then, her touch will stay feather-light and teasing, not nearly enough pressure and friction for him to be fully sated. But this—this is meant to destroy him in one blow. 

“Shut up, sh-shut, uhhn,” he grunts, hips thrusting involuntarily. He barely registers that she lets him push into her throat, drunk on the need to release. He feels the need build in the pit of his stomach but she puts a halt to his orgasm when she releases his cock with a lewd smack of her lips.

Her hand fists over his cock in slow, deliberate strokes, mouth sucking the tip with just enough suction for it to feel fucking good.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” She emphasizes each word with a scratch down his legs, her manicured nails leaving behind raised pink lines he knows will stay there for days. The bite of pain helps him calm down, but the illusion of peace is shattered when she stands up.  

Her skirt is the first item of clothing she discards. Without the barrier of the wine-colored material, the heady scent of her arousal hits him full force. He casts a fleeting look between her legs. The dim overhead lights don’t allow him to see much, but he imagines there’s a wet patch on the lace material of her panties.

It’s not every day she decides to take off her clothes, so he can’t help but gawk a little as she starts to discard her pearls and silks. It’s not that she’s insecure about her body… Taehyung knows she’s proud of it, knows she’s confident that her looks can make men weak in the knees. She gets off on power, likes knowing he wants to see her, to feel her. She likes knowing men crave her. He wonders if the reason she’s acting so out of character is because she wants him to need her again.

Once she is completely bare, Taehyung can’t help but sit still and admire her. Her smooth, unmarred skin seems to glow in the dimly lit room, and he swears he has never seen someone so physically attractive in his life.

She forces him to scoot backwards into the couch, straddling his thighs. Proof of her arousal glistens on her thighs, and Taehyung has to fight down the sudden urge to touch her because he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, doesn’t know if he should. 

He makes a move to take off the clothes she has gifted him but she stops him by grabbing his wrists and shaking her head. She wants him to stay fully clothed? He squirms beneath her hold at the thought. 

It’s so hot beneath the collar of his knitwear, he can feel his back start to dampen with sweat. He wonders why she prefers to stay clothed during sex… He had always assumed staying clothed gave her power over him, but all he feels is sticky and uncomfortable.

He’s not sure if it’s because of the novelty of the situation, but he makes no move to push her away. In fact, all his muscles tense in anticipation as she lowers herself on his cock that’s shiny with her spit and precome.

“You’re saying you want to leave this?” She clenches down on him, hot walls squeezing tightly around him, and he has to swallow down a yelp. She laughs, but even in his lust-consumed mind, Taehyung can tell it’s hollow. “You can’t. Even when you’ll fuck her, you’ll think of me, of this. You’ll think of how hard I make you come. Every. Fucking. Time.”

Her words sink into his skin and burn. He hates how she always knows exactly what to say to get under his skin. He’s gripped by the fear she might be right. What if he can never escape her? What if he keeps on giving in every time? 

She moves her hips in tantalizing circles, oblivious to his inner struggle. 

“You might not love me,” she hisses, hand wrapping around the column of his throat. She doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t choke him like he knows she’s capable of, but the added weight on his neck still makes him feel lightheaded. “You might not love me baby, but you sure as fuck love my pussy.”

And with that she slams her hips into his hard, the loud, wet noise echoing in his ears. The abrupt move has his hands scrambling to find purchase on something, anything; he clutches her thighs, hoping it’ll anchor him to reality. His vision spins, unsure of how much more he can endure. He feels the muscles beneath his fingertips tense with every sinful rock of her hips. She’s used to this position and Taehyung knows she can go for a long time like this.  

“Don’t you?” Her usual velvety voice has turned into a growl and his spine straightens at the sound. Her features twist unnaturally, her statuesque beauty morphing into something much more menacing.

He can feel her nails through his sweater, scratching down his chest, can feel her hot walls pulsing around him. 

“I—fuck,” he grunts, clenching his jaw in his effort not to give in.

It’s much too hot. The sweater he’s been told to keep on does nothing to calm down his racing pulse. He’s drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.

“You love the way I fuck you,” she taunts between heavy pants, equally affected. “If you want to come, I have to hear you say it.”

A loud whimper escapes him as his eyes shut close in defeat. “Yes! Yes, yes. Fuck, I love it.”

She rewards him my quickening the maddening swivel of her hips. “Good boy…” 

He can hear her smirk triumphantly, “tell me what you love about me.”

“I love it. I love the way you f-fuck me – oh god! I love your pussy. I love it, I love it,” he chants brokenly, completely lost to the pleasure.

“Is that right?” Her pace is more frantic now, her breath labored. She must be nearing her end, too. Taehyung exhales in relief—this means his pleasure is finally within reach. 

She leans forward and tugs the silk around his neck between her fingers. The tight hold around his throat cuts off his breathing and the lack of oxygen makes him dizzier than he already is. 

“Don’t come until I tell you,” she warns, still rocking her hips at a dangerous pace.

The figure above him starts to blur until all he can focus on is the drag of her hot walls against him. It gets increasingly hard to follow her demands when his release is so close he can taste it. The obscene noises of skin slapping and low grunts fill the spacious apartment. With a last burst of energy, she lurches, hips still undulating even as he feels her quiver and clench around him. 

When she raises himself off of him, he is nervous, too afraid that she’ll leave him like this as punishment for leaving her. He wouldn’t put it past her. His cock twitches as the cool air hits it, dripping in her juices. 

“Come now,” she orders him, breathing still uneven from her orgasm.

Instantly, he grasps his hot length in his hand, desperation making his movements sloppy. His cock is so wet that his hand slides over his member with ease, seeking relief. It doesn’t take long—three, four rushed strokes—when he finally bucks his hips upwards as waves of rippling pleasure overcome him. His new sweater and pants are splattered in white traces of his arousal.

There’s so much of it, he notices, glancing down. His ensemble might cost thousands of dollars, but instead of feeling fancy and polished, he only feels filthy, soaked in sweat and cum. He’ll have to carry the soiled clothes on the way back home, showing anyone who passes by just how dirty he is. He closes his eyes, distinctly aware of the smell of sex and her perfume. He wants a shower badly but he’s too proud to ask her for anything more. 

She cups his cheek into her hand, forcing him to look at her. “You did a good job…" she praises, smile a little strained. “Now, when you wear these clothes, you’ll always think back to this moment, of how good you’ll always be for me.”

He wants to wipe the smugness off her face, wants to argue that this is the last time he’ll ever be hers. No… In truth he was never hers to begin with—never completely, never in the way that mattered. He wants to remind her but something in the way she looks at him tells him she already knows.

He vows to get rid of the clothes as soon as he can and erase her from his memories.

.

.

Taehyung keeps every gift she’s sent him.

He’s not proud of it – he wishes he could cut her out of his life for good. But Taehyung’s body was made susceptible to the desires of the flesh, and he doesn’t have it in him to give up on the priceless clothes that are now his.

He tells himself he won’t regret his decision, that walking away from that life was the better choice. Still, despite all rational thought, he finds himself still anticipating Siyeon’s packages every morning. It feels like he’s going through a withdrawal and wonders if there’s something wrong with him.

Keeping his troubles to himself is difficult… He wants to come clean and get everything off his chest but he’s still afraid that his friends and family will judge him and look down on him. Instead of confiding in someone he knows, he does some research online. Somehow, it’s relieving to find out he’s not the only who feels the way he does.  

It takes a while, but he slowly starts to get back on track. He realizes that being a sugar baby had been a way of escaping his burdensome reality of student loans and wobbly future. He had let himself believe it could be a means to an end… In retrospect, he had only been stalling, refusing to acknowledge his problems. Even if he still hasn’t figured out the rest of his life, he is learning to focus on the present. 

These days, his studies take up most of his time. He finally finishes his photography project he’s been neglecting for weeks. It’s funny how he believed being a sugar baby was a way to distract him from his stressful life. Now that he’s stopped, Taehyung feels a lot better, no longer worried about being caught or asked unwanted questions. He only notices now, but he had been skirting social obligations and inadvertently ignoring his friends. He’s lucky they have forgiven him for being a dick and silently promises to make it up to them. 

He promises to make it up to you, too. He knows leaving the sugar baby life behind can’t miraculously fix everything between the two of you but time has allowed the both of you to repair your friendship even if there’s still that elephant in the room.

Taehyung can wait. He’s okay with waiting if it comes to you. Really, he’s just grateful you’re back on speaking terms with him. Not being able to spend time with you normally and talking to you regularly had been painful, and he never wants to go through that again.

Taehyung can wait, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you so much it sometimes physically hurts. It’s like his feelings have been magnified tenfold. Selfishly, he hopes you still feel the same way about him, even if it’s been weeks since your confession. When he converses with you now, he can’t tell if you do or don’t. The playful banter is back and there’s certainly some kind of tension that sparks between the two of you, but he needs verbal confirmation. He doesn’t want to pressure you though. And he certainly doesn’t want to put a strain on the relationship that had taken so long to repair.

It’s a Saturday night when the long awaited shift finally occurs.

He’s long since used to your eccentricities but he still stops and stares at your crouched form. You’re clutching one of his shoes, head almost buried inside… For a moment, he’s worried you’ve finally lost it.

“Um… Why…” he tilts his head in confusion. “Why are you sniffing my shoes?”

You jump, startled, but turn around to look at him accusingly.

“I’m not sniffing!” you protest hotly. “I was checking the label.”

The label? 

His eyes blow wide open in realization and he struggles to find a plausible excuse. 

“Care to explain why you own,” you check your phone. “Shoes that cost almost one grand?”

He gulps. He knew he should have tried to be less conspicuous. 

“Tae, I have eyes! Coming home at weird hours of the night, receiving mysterious packages every morning… You’re able to afford all this,” you gesture at his leather belt, his shiny watch. “A couple months ago you had trouble paying your rent, and now you want me to believe you suddenly have enough money to buy nine hundred dollar shoes? Tae… look at these!”

You flap around the shoe in disdain. “Do you know how much pizza you can buy with that kind of money? Why would you waste it on slippers?”

He fights down the urge to argue that they aren’t just any slippers. They’re Gucci. The fur lining feels heavenly between his toes, something other brands can’t compete with. Of course you wouldn’t care about that… You have no interest in fashion. You wouldn’t be able to spot a counterfeit Gucci purse even if he shoves one under your nose… which is probably the reason why you have never noticed he’s been walking around in hundred dollar clothes for months.

“I- I can explain, __,” he mumbles, feeling his hands get clammy.

“You’re a drug dealer, I know,” you sigh in a resigned manner. “Or at least you were one. I’m glad you finally got yourself together, Tae.”

“Ah—what?” He blinks owlishly, trying to process what you’ve just said. In another situation he would have laughed at how certain you seem. Him? A drug dealer? He’s not sure if he should be relieved you provided him an excuse or offended. 

“Also… I know you like fashion but please refrain from buying hideous monstrosities next time.” 

He knows now is the perfect time to confess, to come clean and finally get his secret off his chest. He says your name softly, trying to gather his courage.

“It’s not what you think… I haven’t been dealing drugs.” He tries to ignore the way your eyebrows shoot up questioningly. He has to tell you the truth. “I’ve had a… uhh… sponsor.”

He’s not sure what term to use, which one is closer to the truth and which one will make him appear dishonorable. He wants to give you his honesty, but he also doesn’t want you to see him as something dirty either.

“A sponsor?” You knit your brows in confusion. “Tae… You mean like a sugar daddy?”

“Kind of… She…” He fidgets, trying to find the right words to describe Siyeon. “There wasn’t a contractual agreement or anything. I’d provide sexual services and she would send me gifts.”

“And she… you let her do things to you?”

“Don’t say it like that…” He looks down, regretful. “I’m an adult, I gave my full consent. We never did anything I didn’t like… She just wanted sex.”

Seconds tick by before you’re able to form your next words.

“What did you do?”

The tone of your voice has Taehyung looking back up in surprise. Instead of seeing the disgust he expects in your eyes, there is only curiosity.

“Did she tie you up?” 

He hesitates, can feel his ears turn pink. He never envisioned a scenario in which you would react this way and he flounders for an answer.

“Sometimes,” he finally admits.

“And you liked it? You like being tied down?” You ask eagerly, drawing closer to him.

“What else did she do? She’s the kind of woman to make you beg, right?”

He inhales sharply at your words, feeling weirdly turned on. 

“Isn’t that what you want to do to me?” he retorts, surprising himself by his audacity.

He’s used to poking fun at you but this kind of sexual banter he’s unused to. It feels different, new, and he would be lying if he said he doesn’t want to explore that territory. 

“Maybe,” you answer with a swipe to your bottom lip. 

Fuck… That’s hot. He’s never imagined you as the dominant type, but all he can think about now is you jerking him off while his hands are tied up. Or maybe you would tell him to eat you out on the kitchen table. He would do it all. He wants you so much… He can’t count the number of times he’s thought of you pleasuring yourself from across the hall. He remembers that one time he had caught you moaning into your pillow late one night when he had gotten up for a bathroom break. The muffled sounds had given him enough spank bank material for months.

“Are you picturing me doing that right now?” you interrupt, grinning. “That’s naughty. I’m right here in front of you.”

“Can’t help it,” he confesses sheepishly. “I’ve wanted you far too long.”

Taehyung’s eyes trail downwards, distracted by your nipples that have hardened under your flimsy top. He imagines how soft your breasts would feel in his large hands, how loud you would get for him when he would bite and suck marks into your skin. 

“Tae…” you suddenly turn serious, biting your lip in the way that tells him you’re thinking hard about something. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

He swallows thickly, nodding in understanding. Of course you wouldn’t want to fuck him. Why would you want to after he told you his secret? You probably can’t look at him the say way.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you declare, a pink hue coloring your cheeks. “I do actually… I really do. I just think we shouldn’t rush into this…”

“You do?” he repeats back, relief washing over his features. “Ah, then that’s fine, doll. I can wait. We can wait together. You’re right… I haven’t even taken you out on a date. My parents taught me better.”

You laugh at him, hitting his arm. It’s only then he realizes you still have his fucking Gucci slipper in your grasp. 

“I’m so fucking horny right now though…” You lick your lips, eyeing his bulge hungrily. “I’m going to go disappear in my room for a bit to…take care of things.”

“Ah fuck,” he groans, imagining you thrusting your fingers in your wet pussy, crying out his name as you approached your peak. “That’s fucking hot. Fuck… Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do?” you smile mischievously.

“Me? You know I’m gonna come all over my hand thinking of you across the hall fucking yourself. I’m going to wish I was there with you. Fuck, okay, so I’ve thought about eating you out a lot. I bet you taste so fucking good…” He knows he’s working himself up but he can’t seem to stop. His cock is so fucking hard he wants to palm it but he somehow manages to keep his hands still at his side. “I bet you’ll drip all over my tongue, fuck. I can’t wait until you let me eat you out like you deserve.”

You shiver once, eyes shutting close. He wonders if you’re imagining him sinking to his knees, ready to worship your body like he knows you both want.

It’s fucking torture having you so close but unable to touch you. He’s used to controlling his pleasure but you seem to have more difficulty. Taehyung notes how your thighs rub together in a poor attempt at satisfying yourself, eyeing the spot between your legs greedily. Fuck, he swears he can smell you from where he is. The sweet aroma tempts him to break your rules. 

“Tae,” you moan quietly. The sound has his ears instantly perk up, and he continues talking, wanting to see you feel good.

“You realize I can smell you through your jeans, right? You must be really turned on right now… If you told me to take off your jeans I bet I would find you soaked. So good… Ah fuck, I really want to taste you. Would you like to ride my face? I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

“Tae… Uh, remember what I said about no fucking? I kind of take it back,” you squirm, legs almost crossing in your effort to find friction.

“You can’t do that,” he grunts in complaint. “I’m going to treat you right, okay? That means food before fucking.”

“Why did you have to make me so fucking horny?” you whine, features scrunching up in frustration.

“You asked me what I wanted to do to you!” He laughs at your disheveled state. “You think I would stop at oral sex? After you come on my face, you’ll take my cock like the big girl I know you are. Maybe we can use your pink vibrator to warm you up… Even though it’s nothing compared to my cock.”

“Oh my—wait… How the fuck do you know about my pink vibrator? Tae!”

He ignores you. “How do you like it, doll? I bet you like it really rough, right?”

“I do,” you nod, distracted once again by the low husky notes in his voice. “You’ll give me what I want?”

“You can just take it. I’m fine with you using my dick when you need it.” He cracks a grin, winking saucily.

“Tae!” You snort down a laugh. “Okay, we said no sex, right?”

“Not until I feed you. That was the consensual agreement.”

“But you’ll give me what I want if I ask you to?”

He raises an eyebrow in question. “What did you have in mind?”

“Want to sit on your lap…” you say quietly, fingers reaching to grab at his shirt. “I really need to come.”

He takes in your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, and swipes his tongue over his dry lips in agreement. How can he refuse you when that’s all he wants and more? He takes a seat on the couch and waits with hooded eyes as you clamber into his lap. The way you plop down is far from graceful but he finds it endearing how eager you are for him.

“Tae, can we try something? I read it online and thought it was hot.” When he gives his consent you continue, voice trembling with excitement. “Can I try riding your thigh? It’s supposed to be sexy…”

He visibly shudders under you, the image of you using him to get off too much to handle. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth curving into a pleased smirk. 

He’s caught off guard when you lean in to kiss him—softness melting against him like snow. It takes a moment to realize that you are kissing him, but when it fully registers, he’s cupping your cheeks and pulling you closer. Distantly, he notes how long it’s been since he’s kissed someone. He doesn’t ever remember kissing Siyeon and she was the person he had been with for months. You bite his lower lip, tongue tracing the seam of his mouth, fingers running through the hair at his nape. 

He thinks kissing you might be his new favorite thing. He loves the way you mold against him, as if he was made just for you. There’s a fluttering feeling in his chest he can’t shake, and with every press of your lips over his his, the feeling only intensifies. It’s a warm, comfortable tingle that makes his toes curl. 

He’s so lost in your hot kisses that he barely notices when you start to rock your hips against his thigh. It’s a bit awkward at first, but you quickly disregard any sense of propriety as you lose yourself to the tingles of pleasure that zap through your body. Your small moans make him grunt in response and he has to constantly remind himself that this is for you, not him. He can always go get himself off in the shower later thinking back to this exact moment.

“You’re so pretty, __” he praises, mouth agape as he worships you with his gaze. “You’re so pretty riding my thigh. Does it feel good rubbing your needy clit against me? Hmm? Tell me how good it feels for you.”

“Ah… kind of… bony,” you pant out, sweat beading at your forehead.

“Bony?”

“Your thighs are kind of bony but it…” You blow a strand away from your face as your pace quickens. He can feel your heat through the ridges of his jeans and imagines how much more satisfying it would feel without the layers separating the two of you. “It feels good. I think I can come like this… Oh god!”

He presses your hips down harder against his thigh, desperately needing to see you fall apart. He doesn’t know where to focus his gaze—eyes darting from your face to your heaving chest, to the frantic roll of your hips. He needs to commit every detail to memory. 

“Tae I think—”

“That’s right,” he encourages. “Will you let me see you come? I want to see you so badly… I need it. I need to hear you, need to feel you soak through your jeans.”

The dirty talk seems to get you off, and with a loud shout of his name you come. The sight is so delicious he has half a mind to come in his pants as well, but he somehow manages to hold off.

You collapse into his arms, head resting in the crook of his neck damp with sweat. He’s still hard as a rock, but his need to orgasm is only secondary to his desire to hold you close. 

He threads his fingers through your hair, short fingernails scratching your scalp pleasantly. He presses light kisses on the crown of your head, inhaling the familiar fresh scent of jasmine soap that belongs to you. 

Taehyung doesn’t know why he was so worried about being intimate with you. You two haven’t even had sex yet but he already knows with you it will feel different from anything he’s ever had.

His flesh is weak, easily tempted and swayed by the promises of satisfying sex and the ostentatious. Admittedly, he has little to offer you. He’s unable to express his feelings in measurements like carats. 

But he realizes now that all that is gold does not glitter: that love and affection can’t be bought. Siyeon hadn’t been able to turn his attraction into love no matter how many pricey gifts she provided him. What you offer him is much more valuable than any Gucci sweaters or monogrammed Burberry scarves.

I love you.

Words he has never allowed himself to say rest on the tip of his tongue. He’s tempted to let them spill from his lips, but he would rather wait and savor the taste in his mouth.

.

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a/n: okay i need to thank a lot of mutuals who helped me with this :’D my number one smut consultant @bxebxee ;; also @noona-la-la-la @btssmutgalore @authorose who gave me helpful sub smut advice and the only fem dom in my life @tayegi:’) @mint-tape and @floralseokjin also shared links on fem doms and male orgasms :’’’) and @yoongihime and @seaseok for reading over some of the writing !! ♡ also @taesthetes and and @taeverie who encouraged me to the end ;;;

this list is quite long >.< but i was only able to finish this cursed sub tae fic with your help so tysm and ily all !!!

(+ title is taken from tolkien’s poem in lotr lmao)