#Enjoy it with a background and without a background!!!

[mononijikayu]

water — gojo satoru.

"Satoru, lover….oh." you gasped again, your hands fisting in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck, your body arching into him. "I want—" "I know, I know." he whispered against your skin, his voice low and husky. "Just hold on, babe. I'm gonna take you exactly where you need to go." And with that, he surged forward, capturing your lips in another fiery kiss, his hands moving to grip your thighs, holding you steady as the intensity between you built, hotter and hotter until you felt like you were about to burst.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: afab!, romance, smut, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, exhibitionism, kissing, making out, fingering (f! receiving), oral sex (f! receiving), rough sex, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (lover, babe, etc), characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, sorcerer! gojo satoru, sorcere! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5.5k words.

NOTE: this song hasn't been out of my head since it came out and now tyla has new music out and i just know it will slap and i will dance to it. i wanted to make sure satoru's first since i haven't written for him in a while!!! this begins this playlist!!! i hope you enjoy side 2000!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 2000;

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU JUST WANTED TO ENJOY THE PARTY. It’s been a while since you’d found yourself trying to destress from work and the busy push and pull of life. And with Satoru’s schedule being the chaotic mess it was, it was always so rare for the two of you to go out for way too long and have fun together, with schedules that contradict each other.

So, when your next door neighbors finally debuted their pool at their house, they decided to throw a barbecue party for the neighborhood. When you told Satoru about it, he told you he was willing to take a day off. And knowing that, you knew you were taking the opportunity, even just for tonight, to loosen up. Isn’t that what life’s all about?

The evening sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the pool, the perfect backdrop for a party that was only just beginning to heat up. Laughter and music filled the air, but your eyes were locked on one person. 

There he was, that bright eyed man Gojo Satoru, standing at the edge of the pool with his signature grin, a drink in hand. His bright snowy white hair was damp from a quick dip, droplets of water clinging to his skin as he watched you approach.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as you slid into the water, your body moving effortlessly through the cool pool. The tension between you was thick, the playful banter from earlier simmering into something much more intense as the night wore on.

"Looking a little wild tonight, babe." Satoru teased, his voice dripping with amusement as you swam up to him. He set his drink aside, his blue eyes glinting with a challenge. "Think you can keep up?"

Normally, you’d throw a sarcastic retort his way, but tonight was different. Tonight, something in you wanted more. The playful banter wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel his hands on your skin, to see if he could really make good on all those teasing words.

"You think you can handle me?" you shot back, your voice low and sultry as you moved closer, the water swirling around you both. The music pulsed in the background, the beat matching the thrum of anticipation coursing through your veins.

Satoru’s sly little grin widened, his fingers trailing lazily along the edge of the pool. "I don’t know, babe." he drawled, his voice laced with mock uncertainty. "But I’m more than willing to find out."

Without another word, you pushed forward, closing the distance between you, pressing your body against his. The cool water contrasted with the heat of his skin, and the contact sent a shiver of desire through you.

"Normally, lover boy…." you whispered, lips brushing against his reddening ear. "I can keep my cool. But tonight, I think…I think we need some heat, don’t you think?" You trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air between you.

Satoru's hands found your waist, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your neck. His blue orbs clashing against your own, mischief echoing in their very color. 

"Good that you agree with me." he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your throat. "Because I like it when you’re a little wild."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his hands roamed over your body, the slickness of the water making every touch feel even more intimate. His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you slightly, pressing you against the pool's edge, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, blue eyes darkened with desire. "Can you handle this, babe?" Satoru’s vibrating voice was a low, dangerous rumble, full of heat and promise. “Can you really?”

Your breath hitched, the tension between you unbearable. "Why don't you show me how hard you can go, lover boy?" you challenged, your voice breathless, your body already burning with anticipation. “I’m sure….I can try.”

With a wicked grin, Satoru leaned in passionately. It was almost immediate, the way he was capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His ferious tongue teased yours, slow and deliberate.

Your lover always makes it a point to have a shot in tasting every inch of you as his hands explored your body under the water. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his damp hair as the kiss deepened, the world around you fading away.

Every brush of his lips, every caress of his hands set your body on fire, making you sweat despite the coolness of the water. You could feel him, hard and ready against you, and the need for more, so much more. Everything about him was overwhelming. And you loved it, you loved it too much. 

"Satoru, oh—" you gasped as he kissed a trail down your neck, your body arching into him, desperate for every ounce of contact. "You're making me lose my breath like always."

"Good." he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding lower, gripping you tighter. "Because like always, I’m not done with you yet."

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deeper, hungrier this time, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. The heat between you both was scorching, your bodies pressed together in the water, moving in perfect rhythm. His lips traveled down your throat, his teeth grazing your collarbone, leaving you gasping, breathless.

"Then make me sweat, lover boy." you whispered against his ear, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw as his hands moved under the water, teasing your thighs, pulling you closer. “Make me feel good, like the water.”

Satoru groaned, a sound that sent a thrill through you. "I plan to, babe." he promised, his voice thick with desire as his hands gripped your waist.

He grins as he is lifting you slightly, pressing you harder against the pool's edge. "And when I'm done, you're gonna be begging me for more."

His words sent a shockwave of heat straight through you, and you could feel yourself trembling with need. The water around you felt like it was boiling, every touch from Gojo Satoru was igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your body. He was taking over you, every bit of you — like he always does.

"Satoru, lover….oh." you gasped again, your hands fisting in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck, your body arching into him. "I want—"

"I know, I know." he whispered against your skin, his voice low and husky. "Just hold on, babe. I'm gonna take you exactly where you need to go."

And with that, he surged forward, capturing your lips in another fiery kiss, his hands moving to grip your thighs, holding you steady as the intensity between you built, hotter and hotter until you felt like you were about to burst.

Everything was just getting started.

And Gojo Satoru was still pretty hungry.

He liked having his fill of you every single time.

Your heart raced as Satoru’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to keep you anchored while the rest of your body felt like it was spiraling out of control. Every kiss, every brush of his lips against your skin sent jolts of electricity through you, making you lose track of time, place, and everything else that wasn’t him.

The party noises faded into the background. The splashing of the pool, the music, the chatter of distant voices, none of it mattered anymore. It was just you and Satoru, bodies pressed together, the water swirling lazily around you as if time itself had slowed to match the intensity of the moment.

"Still think you can keep up, babe?" he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and teasing. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, but beneath it, there was a hunger. There was this endless raw, desperate need that mirrored your own. “I wanna go as fast as I can with you.”

"Don’t worry about me, lover boy." you shot back, breathless but determined, your hands sliding down his slick chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. "I can handle you."

Gojo Satoru’s grin widened at the challenge, his lips pressing hard against yours in a bruising kiss. All you could do was let him win, as you groaned against the pleasure of his searing touch. Even the heat of the passion was burning on water. 

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he wanted to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips. The water between you only heightened the sensation, the cool liquid a stark contrast to the heat that burned where his skin met yours.

"I’ll make you sweat more, babe. I promised you." he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if he could barely contain himself. 

His lips trailed down your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed and nipped his way down to your collarbone, making you gasp with each new touch. You could feel your body responding to him, heat pooling low in your stomach, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. 

"Satoru, lover boy. Oh, you’re…." you moaned, his name slipping from your lips before you could stop it, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. 

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tighter as he pressed you back against the edge of the pool. His lips were relentless, moving across your skin like fire, making you tremble beneath him. You were losing control, your body melting under his touch, every nerve lit up in anticipation.

"That’s right," he whispered, his voice dark and full of promise. "Let go for me."

You didn’t need any more convincing. Your hands tangled in his wet hair as you pulled him closer, your lips crashing against his in a feverish kiss, your body moving against his as if you couldn’t get enough. His hands slipped lower, teasing you, making you gasp as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Satoru. You’re so…." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I can’t—"

"Yes, you can." he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You can take it. I’ll take you there."

The heat between you was unbearable now, the tension building with every kiss, every touch, every whispered word. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body straining for release, every nerve in your body on fire.

"Come on, baby," Satoru murmured, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer, his lips hot against your skin. "Just let go for me."

And you did. The pleasure hit you all at once, like a wave crashing over you, stealing your breath and making you cry out as your body shook with the intensity of it. You clung to Satoru, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he held you steady, riding out the aftershocks of your release with slow, deliberate kisses that left you trembling.

"That’s my pretty babe, hm?” he whispered, his voice soft now, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. "You did so good."

You could barely catch your breath, your body still buzzing with the afterglow as you leaned back against the edge of the pool, your legs still wrapped around him. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and saw that familiar, lazy grin on his face—the one that said he wasn’t quite finished with you yet.

"Think you’ve still got some energy left?" he teased, his hands moving up your sides, his thumbs brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You think I can’t keep up? Haven’t I shown you something good, lover boy?"

His grin widened, and he leaned in close, his lips hovering just above yours. "Oh, I know you can, babe." he murmured, his breath hot against your lips. "But I’m not done making you sweat just yet, you know?”

You both disappeared, finally slipping away from the crowd and into the shadows, your lips still locked in a feverish kiss. The night air was thick with the scent of chlorine and heat, but all you could focus on was Satoru. Only him. His hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

The two of you managed to find yourselves in a secluded corner, hidden from prying eyes. His lips trailed down once more your neck, and before you knew it, you were pressed up against the cool tile wall, your skin burning with need as his mouth worked wonders against your throat.

“You’re wild tonight, babe.” Satoru murmured, his voice thick with desire, fingers grazing your hips, teasing. His usual cocky grin spread across his face as he kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, as if savoring every second.

“And you love it, don’t you?” you shot back, breathless as you tangled your hands in his hair. The thrill of the night, of being wrapped in his arms, made your pulse race, your body crave more.

Without a word, Satoru dropped to his knees before you, and your breath hitched. You knew what he was doing. His hands parted your legs as his gaze burned into yours, the heat of his anticipation palpable in the air. 

The smirk on his face sent a shiver through you, but that shiver turned into pure heat when his lips met your inner thigh, trailing kisses up, up, until you could feel his hot breath against your core.

“Satoru…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your body aching for his touch.

He didn’t hesitate. His tongue found you, and your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips as he devoured you like a man starved. You bit your lip as a plethora of pleasured moans released from your lips. 

There was no restraint, no gentleness—just hunger. His mouth was messy, his tongue moving in ways that had your legs trembling, and the slick from your arousal coated his chin as he worked you with an unrelenting passion.

The sounds he made, deep, guttural groans of satisfaction, it only heightened the pleasure, and the way his hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady. Everything about it made you feel like you were about to come undone at any moment. 

If anything, he was too hungry for your cunny. And he wouldn’t stop even if you wanted him too. He was hungry for you. He always was. He lapped at you, his tongue swirling and flicking with precision, like he was trying to draw out every moan, every gasp from your lips.

“Satoru… oh my god….” you gasped, your fingers threading through his white hair rougher as your body arched towards him, desperate for more.

He pulled back for just a moment, his chin glistening with your slick, eyes dark with lust as he grinned up at you. He’s having fun with this, he always has. If anything about Satoru, he doesn’t like playing fair when it comes to eating. 

“You taste so damn good, babe.” he growled, his voice low, feral, before diving back in. “How come you’ve become sweeter?”

“You…You tasted me last night, oh—”

“What can I say, babe? You always just get sweeter for me. And I love it.”

You groaned against his words. But he just laughed once again and dived in. If one had thought that he couldn’t go any deeper, any rougher, any hungrier, any messier — they would be wrong. He can go even more than that. You knew your lover way too well.

The way his mouth moved against you was nothing short of sinful. Sloppy, messy, and so damn good. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, like he was trying to consume every part of you. Your body was shaking, legs threatening to give out as the pleasure built inside you, and all you could do was grip his hair tighter, riding his tongue as he pulled you closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers slid inside you while his mouth never left its place, curling perfectly as he stretched you out. The combination of his fingers and his mouth working together had you spiraling, your moans echoing through the air, louder now, unable to hold back as your body begged for release.

“Fuck, Satoru, don’t stop. Please, don’t.” you moaned, barely coherent, the intensity too much, but you didn’t want it to end.

He didn’t slow down, he had no reason to. Not when you’re egging him on. Not when he wants you too badly. Not when it all just felt so good. You could feel his tongue moving with expert precision, his fingers thrusting deeper, harder, until you were teetering on the edge of oblivion. 

You could feel the tension building, that delicious, overwhelming pressure that made it impossible to think of anything other than him—his mouth, his fingers, the way he was devouring you like you were the last meal he’d ever get.

And then, without warning, you shattered. The orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing as pleasure flooded every nerve, and Satoru didn’t stop. His fingers continued to move, his tongue still lapping at you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were trembling, breathless, completely undone.

He pulled back slightly, his lips and chin slick with your sweet decadent release, and he looked up at you with a satisfied grin. That sly look, he always has that excitement when he makes you feel this way. Gojo Satoru believes he always has to win, one way or the other. 

“You taste like heaven, babe. A hundred percent heaven.” he murmured, his voice rough, hoarse, as he licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. 

You could barely catch your breath, your body still trembling as you leaned back against the rough brick wall for support, staring down at him with a dazed smile. Sweat permeated through your skin as you caught yourself back to some sense again.

“You’re unbelievable, Satoru.” you muttered, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover from the intensity of it all.

Satoru took a moment to meet your orbs. Once more, they echoed that same desire. He was still hungry, he was still wanting more. Your lover rose to his feet, his body pressing against yours once again as he captured your lips in a heated kiss once again. 

You moan against the roughness of his desire, pushing against his tongue with your own. Almost instantly, you could taste yourself on his lips, the remnants of your slick still clinging to him, and it only made you crave him more. 

“You love it, babe.” he whispered against your mouth, his hands sliding up your body, possessive, confident. “And well, so do I.”

You couldn’t deny it. The way he had you, completely under his control, yet giving you everything you wanted, was intoxicating. You were hooked, the moment you met Satoru. You knew that when you let him get deeper and deeper, you couldn’t live without him. 

Without his kisses, his eyes, his warmth, his touch. One way or another, you were trapped with your want. You wanted more of him, like a greedy little vixen who won’t stop until you get what you wanted. And there was no turning back.

As you both pulled away and began dressing once again, the heat of the moment still thrumming between you, Satoru watched you with that mischievous grin, his cerulean eyes glinting in the low light. His hands brushed over your waist, teasing, as you adjusted your clothes, but there was still that lingering tension, that promise of more to come.

As you both stepped out of the secluded spot, you shot him a playful wink. “Try to keep up next time, Satoru.”

He chuckled, his smirk widening. “You think you can outlast me, doll?”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him roughly, your lips pressing against his with that same intensity from earlier. “Oh I know I can.”

And you wanted to prove that yourself.

Instead of going back to the party, it was your turn.

It was your turn to be just as hungry for him.

You took his hand, grinning at him and pulling him away.

There were still unoccupied guest beds after all.

Gojo Satoru couldn’t shake the feeling that he loved making you sweat even more than before. The heat of the moment radiated between you as you found yourselves in one of the bedrooms, the faint thump of the party still audible in the background, but all you could focus on was each other. The room felt electric, filled with anticipation and desire, and the scent of your skin only heightened his need.

You weren’t sure whose bedroom it was, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was the way he had you bent over, your hands gripping the edge of the bed as he pressed into you from behind. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and pressure that sent shivers through your spine.

“God, you feel amazing.” he murmured with desire. “Babe, how are you always so good?”

You could hear how his voice reverberated low and rough as he playfully ran his hands over the mound of your ass, savoring the way it responded to his playful touch. Each squeeze elicited soft gasps from your lips, and he couldn’t help but smile wide at how perfectly you arched for him, begging for more of him in you.

With one hand pressed against your back, you guided him deeper and deeper inside of you, ensuring your body was perfectly positioned for him. The way your skin glistened bright under the low light was nothing short of divine, and every movement sent waves of heat coursing through every fiber of Satoru’s being.

The greedy echo sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a rhythmic echo that felt almost sacred to him. Gojo Satoru likes to think he was a worshiper and your body was his temple. And you were his god. You were his everything. 

Each and every time he made love to you, it was like holy hymns reverberating through the air, fueling his desire further. He loved the feeling of being so deeply connected to you, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony.

“Tell me you like this, babe.” he demanded, his voice husky with lust as he picked up the pace, driving into you with a steady force. “Tell me you feel gooddddd, oh—”

His hand shifted from your back to your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, using his grip to push you further onto him. Everything felt like a burning pandemonium as he got deeper in crevices in you that you never thought existed before. 

You could feel your mouth watering, drooling as he pushed in and out of you, like he memorized the map and was finding it again, over and over. It was an interesting thing, how you could feel ever so alive just by being in his arms. By being so full of him. You know your lover boy feels the same thing too.

“Yes, yes, Satoru!” you gasped, your breath hitching as he hit that perfect spot, the pressure building with every thrust. You could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, and each of his movements only intensified it.

“Good girl, my good girl. My pretty little babe.” he praised, the raw satisfaction in his voice making your heart race even faster. 

Gojo Satoru seems to thrive on this, every single time. He’d always been crazy. He knew that much. Much more so in bed. It was hard to find that genuinity of intimacy. Not only in the innocence of adoration, but the crazy roughness of sensuality. 

So when he met you and you matched his crazy, he found himself thriving. He found himself living pleasure through you, in ways he’d never known before. And he’d been glad for that. He’d been glad for you.

It was the way you responded to him, the way you melted under his touch every time you made love. It was the sweat that bound your flesh together. It was the way you would bite him as he pounded deeper into you. It was the way his fingers would dig onto your thighs and mark them. 

It was the way your nails would create a mess of bloody constellations on the neatness of his skin. It was the feeling of his fat balls slapping against your ass, the way your body reacted, was intoxicating. Every sound you made, every gasp, felt like music to his ears.

Everything you did, everything you gave him — it had made him feel so alive.

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Just for me, hm? Just for me.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but push back against him, wanting more, craving that deep connection that seemed to pulse between you. “More, Satoru. Please, don’t stop.”

He smirked slyly and immediately pushed to oblige, driving into you with renewed fervor> You cried out as the heat of the moment enveloping you both, his body pushing closer and closer to you, as though he wanted it to merge. 

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, igniting every nerve ending as you lost yourself in the rhythm, caught in a world that existed only for the two of you. You could care less if anyone were to walk in and see how deplorable this situation was. You could care less if someone screams in shock. 

No, nothing else mattered. It was pleasure that mattered. There was only you in this universe, only him and you — wet by the water of sweat that pools between the desire to make each other whole. 

“Damn, you’re perfect, babe.” he groaned, the sound vibrating through your body as he leaned into you more, the weight of him pressing you down, anchoring you to the moment. “So, so perfect.” 

The way he played with you, using your body to bring himself pleasure, sent you spiraling into pure ecstasy. Nothing else has come close to making you both feel alive. It was just this moment that made you feel that life was worth living. 

Just the two of you, the heat, the pleasure, and the way he made you feel alive. This was all that life needs. This was all what the Strongest needed to feel alive. Jujutsu was given to him from the moment he was born, it was as natural as breathing. But this moment with you, taking you as his own. Everything about this was his humanity. 

This was primal. This was instinct. It was trial and error.  And it was crazy. Nothing else will come close to how much he loves to be an animal with you. You groaned as you bit his shoulder hard, blood spoiling against his sweat. He groaned in pleasure, before grinning. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and the anticipation built until you could hardly contain it, ready to let go and embrace the bliss that awaited you.

Satoru's pace quickened, each thrust becoming more urgent, more desperate. You could feel him deep inside you, filling you completely, and every time he drove into you, your body responded with a jolt of pleasure that made your vision blur. You were utterly lost in the moment, overwhelmed by the sensations he was drawing out of you.

“God, you’re so tight, babe.” he groaned, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his composure. “How do you always know how to cage my cock? How do you always make it know where it belongs?”

He loved the way your body wrapped around him, how every inch of you seemed to beg for more. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your soft moans, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed around you.

“Don’t hold back, Satoru.” you urged, your voice a breathy whisper that barely escaped your lips. “I want all of you, Satoru. Just like this. Come. Just do it.”

That demand of yours sent a rush of adrenaline through him, and he grinned against your shoulder, he himself biting there as you groaned like a prey against the hunter. He lifted his mouth, and stared at his masterpiece for a little while longer. That was surely to leave a mark. He snickers. 

“You asked for it, babe.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you up against him, using his strength to drive you deeper onto him. The change in angle had you gasping, your head falling back against his shoulder as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“You feel so good.” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I could do this all night.”

“Then do it.” you urged, your body instinctively arching back into him, eager for every thrust, every delicious stretch. “Make me feel it.”

He laughs as he hits hard at one thrust, making your body shake against the covers. You groan hard as you try to hold on for dear life. You knew what you egged him to do. Then continued thrusting into you with a fierce intensity that had you moaning his name, your body responding eagerly to each movement. 

It was as if the world outside had faded away, and all that existed was the connection between you—his body, your body, moving in perfect unison. The pleasure built inside you like a coiled spring, tightening with every thrust. You could feel that familiar tension, that edge creeping closer, and all you could think about was how good he felt, how right it all was. 

“Satoru, I’m coming. Oh my god—” you started, but the words died on your lips as he hit that sweet spot again, sending shockwaves through your body.

“Yeah? You gonna come for me?” he teased, his voice thick with lust as he leaned closer, kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. The sensation made your entire body tingle, and you could only nod, the words lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Tell me how much you want it, babe.” he demanded, his voice a low growl that made your heart race even faster.

“More, please! I need to—ah!” The plea escaped your lips as he thrust deeper, the pleasure overwhelming. “I need to come, Satoru!”

“Then let go,” he urged, his voice dripping with seduction. “I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

With his words wrapping around you like a spell, the tension finally snapped, and you cried out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. It was like you had seen the light for the first time with him.

It was so delicate and pure, that echo of unadulterated bliss that sent your body shuddering in pleasure. Satoru continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm with slow, deliberate movements that sent aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you.

“Just like that, babe. You feel so fucking good.” he groaned, his own breath ragged as he watched you unravel beneath him. 

The sight of you losing yourself was intoxicating, even more so your juices mixing with his in a watery flow within your crevices. And he couldn’t help but feel that rush of pride at how he could make you feel this way.

As you came down from your high,  Gojo Satoru slowed his movements, still keeping you close as he pressed kisses along your back. The warmth of his body enveloped you, and you reveled in the afterglow, the way your heart raced in time with his.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine concern as he pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes searching your face.

“Better than okay, babe.” you replied with a breathless laugh, turning to meet his gaze. “That was… incredible.”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just wait until round two. I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. “You’re insatiable, Satoru.”

“Maybe so, babe.” he replied, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. “But I think you love it.”

You couldn’t deny it. The thrill of the night, the way he made you feel—it was a heady mix of excitement and desire that left you craving more. As you both pulled away, he gently squeezed your waist, a teasing smile playing on his lips. 

“Let’s give them something to talk about when we go back out there.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what do you have in mind?”

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll show you.”

And with that, he swept you into another kiss, ready to take on the world outside, but knowing that this was only the beginning of your night together. You had a lot more to sweat in water together, whatever the form.

[xinganhao]

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Kaguya-sama: Love Is War Deadpan ⋅ Romantic Anime ⋅ First Love starring Yoon Jeonghan

The proudly privileged top two students of an elite school each make it their mission to be the first to extract a confession of love from the other.

365 Days to the Wedding Drama ⋅ Workplace 'Romance' ⋅ Comedy starring Hong Joshua

Two unmarried workers at a travel agency hear about a branch office being opened in a distant land to be staffed by single workers, so they decide to marry each other to avoid that fate.

K-Dramas Explore All ›

Love Next Door Frenemies ⋅ Second Chances ⋅ Romance starring Wen Junhui

When you return home for a rest, you unexpectedly become entangled with an old friend.

What's Wrong With Secretary Kim Feel-Good ⋅ Comedy ⋅ Redemption starring Kwon Soonyoung

A vainglorious executive who seemingly has everything faces devastating news when you, his personal assistant, announce that you've decided to quit.

Our Beloved Summer Intimate ⋅ Young Adult ⋅ Angst starring Jeon Wonwoo

Years after filming a viral documentary in high school, two bickering ex-lovers get pulled back in front of the camera— and into each other's lives.

Hotel Del Luna Quirky ⋅ Fantasy TV ⋅ Angst starring Lee Jihoon

When you are invited to manage a hotel for dead souls, you get to know the establishment's ancient owner and his strange world.

Hollywood Movies Explore All ›

50 First Dates Quirky ⋅ Romantic ⋅ Comedy starring Kim Mingyu

A man who is afraid of commitment falls in love with you, who has short-term memory loss and forgets him every day.

Set It Up Witty ⋅ Intimate ⋅ 'Parent' Trapping starring Lee Seokmin

Two young, overworked assistants realize they can make their lives easier by setting up their workaholic bosses to date.

13 Going 30 Romantic ⋅ Comedy ⋅ Drama starring Xu Minghao

You're transformed into a grownup overnight— except a life without your best friend Minghao isn't quite one that you imagined.

TV Dramas Explore All ›

Black Mirror Utopian Fiction ⋅ Romance ⋅ Mystery starring Boo Seungkwan

Paired up by a dating program that puts an expiration date on all relationships, you and Seungkwan soon begin to question the system's logic.

Normal People Angst ⋅ Drama ⋅ Relationships starring Chwe Hansol

You and Vernon, from different backgrounds but the same small town, weave in and out of each other's romantic lives.

The Summer I Turned Pretty Summer Romance ⋅ Coming-of-Age ⋅ Drama starring Lee Chan

A story about first love, first heartbreak, and the magic of that one perfect summer.

📺 WHO'S WATCHING?

all accomplished smaus/imagines will be linked back to this masterlist. ideally, this will be complete by february 2025 latest. work will also be under the ff. tag: ── ᵎᵎ ✦ milestone event: svtflix ✩ psd template by user seungnm!

it's worth noting that i have varying degrees of familiarity with the aforementioned source material. they will be used mostly for inspiration, which means the plots of my work may/may not directly parallel the media each boy is assigned to.

thank you! (´◡`)

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Slowly, with a tenderness that sent a shiver through your body, he placed several more kisses to your skin. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh, his warm hands slipping beneath your shirt as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

His expression softened, “Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice was laced with desire. Without hesitation, you nodded, your body already screaming for more. His long fingers traced your inner thighs, goosebumps forming on your skin, his touch light but electrifying. When his thumb pressed against your covered clit, a jolt of heat shot through you, making you squirm helplessly. You moaned, your body arching toward him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing quickened, sharp and shallow, as the pressure built within you, pooling low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared the brink of your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate whisper, barely more than a plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours, feel the frantic urgency building inside you.

And then, with a nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit, sending shockwaves of heat through every inch of you. You cried out, unable to hold back the sounds of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you to the world as it spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped himself firmly, pumping his length a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth, teasing you for the briefest moment before you sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Pulling you against him, Spencer adjusted your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

Your breath hitched. “Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” His gaze flickered with hesitation, cheeks flushed. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide, desire sparking anew at his confession. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger almost unraveled him all over again.

Unable to bring himself to leave your side, he grabbed his sleeve, using it to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh, basking in the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[ylangelegy]

as we are (teaser) ⚾ seungmin x reader.

★ baseball captain!seungmin x f!reader. ★ teaser word count: 3,000~ ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: university, alternate universe: varsity baseball captain!seungmin, alternate universe: political science major!seungmin. idiots in love, slow burn, friends to lovers, seungmin is emotionally constipated (and a red flag, if you squint). skz ensemble (dormmates + hyunjin and chan are on the baseball team). baseball references i am not 100% sure about. ★ footnotes: this is perhaps the skz fic i've done the most work on, though it's largely self-indulgent. i never thought it would see the light of day, but ksm's teaser for as we are featured him playing baseball and it has singlehandedly dragged me back to the possibility of finishing this. publishing the teaser for now in hopes of getting some motivation to put out the whole thing. enjoy!

As Seungmin's bat cracks against a pitched ball for the nth time that afternoon, he tries to think of anything but the bitterness in the back of his throat.

His feet are rigid and his shoulders are impossibly taut. He's clutching the grip of his bat a little too tight, but none of his teammates have the heart to call him out on it. They know their captain and they know better to question him when he's like this.

"Again," Seungmin says coolly, and the terse pitcher does as he's asked.

Thwack. The ball soars over the outfield. Seungmin tries to think, instead, of the essay he has to do for World Governance later, of what Jeongin might want to dinner. Anything but the fact you ditched him for some goddamn date or something.

A flicker of annoyance flashes across Seungmin's expression. "Again," he commands, and he hits the next ball so hard that the bat nearly flies out of his hands.

It's a litany of again, again, again until the pitcher misses his target completely. Seungmin's eyes narrow as he notices the way the pitcher is eyeing something over his shoulder. He turns to look at the bleachers.

When he catches sight of you, his already stoic face hardens into something stone cold. You had somehow snuck in undetected, and you were now lounging there like you hadn't told Seungmin some two hours ago that your weekly dinner had to be called off.

For a moment, Seungmin's grip on his bat tightens even further before he glances back at his pitcher. He shoots him a look before he walks over to the fence, stopping a few feet away from you.

"What are you doing here?" he snipes, his eyes flickering with irritation.

Without missing a beat, you reach for something that had been resting at your feet: An iced flat white with an extra shot of espresso. You hold it up for him to see as you stay in your seat.

It's his usual order, the same thing he got whenever we went out for coffee.

"Peace offering," you say simply, which is the closest to an apology that Seungmin will probably ever get from you.

Seungmin's expression remains taut, but the tension in his shoulders relaxes almost imperceptibly. He considers you for a few heartbeats, before his gaze slowly rises back to yours. His jaw clenches.

"You can't just give me coffee every time you want me to forgive you," he snipes, crossing his arms.

You don't falter, just keep holding out the coffee and waiting for him to take it. "That's why I switch it up. Sometimes, I get you croissants," you deadpan.

He eyes the coffee cup you're holding out to him, still refusing to take it. "You're insufferable," he mutters, but there's a hint of exasperated fondness in his voice.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you before Seungmin finally uncrosses his arms. He reaches out to take the coffee from you, fingers brushing against your own.

"What do you even want?" he grumbles, taking a sip.

"Can't a girl watch her best friend practice baseball?" you respond, the hint of a smile on your lips.

One of the teammates playing third base wolf-whistles in the background and earns himself a quick smack upside the head. Seungmin shoots a glower at them but says nothing, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Yeah? You here to cheer me on?" he asks you dryly, raising an eyebrow.

You prop your arms over the chairs next to your and cross your legs— a clear sign that you're not going anywhere any time soon. "Something like that," you say without missing a beat. "I'm a big fan of uniform number twenty-two."

As much as he tries to remain aloof and unaffected by your presence, Seungmin's cheek tinge with a hint of pink at your comment.

He tries to cover it up with a scoff, but the blush betrays him. "I know you are," he mutters, before clearing his throat and taking another gulp of his coffee. "You can watch, but don't distract me."

You finally let a bit of a smile slip through, like you're relieved that you're not being hauled out of the stadium.

"Kncok 'em dead, captain," you call after Seungmin's retreating back, drawing snickers among his teammates.

"Shut up!" Seungmin barks at the boys, but the blush on the back of his neck betrays his words. He takes a brief moment to glare at them all before he regains his composure.

With a short sigh, he steps back up onto home plate, and the other players on the field get ready. The pitcher nods at Seungmin, and the captain raises his bat, taking a moment to look up at the bleachers.

His eyes catch on your seated figure, and his chest clenches just a little. He turns away before he can think too hard about it.

As practice winds to a close, one of Seungmin's teammates and roommates— Chan— jogs up to you.

"Hey, angel," he greets, the lilt of a tease already on his tongue. "You have any coffee for me, too?"

Chan grins, unperturbed by the eye roll you give him. He props his arms on the railing and looks up at you with an expression that's far too innocent.

He casts a glance towards Seungmin, who's still on the field, having a word with the pitcher who had been throwing balls for him. "So, what did you to piss off the captain this time?" Chan asks nonchalantly, his smile widening as he catches sight of the hoodie you're wearing. Seungmin's hoodie.

"Ditched him for a tutoring session," you answer.

"Ow!" Chan places a hand to his chest in a show of faux horror. "Don't you know how many girls would kill for a date with the Kim Seungmin?"

You rest your forearms against your thighs as you lean forward to keep watch of Seungmin. "Mhm," you hum. "And here I am, breaking his heart."

Chan gives you a knowing look before he lets out a bark of laughter.

He glances back towards Seungmin, who's still chatting with the pitcher— or more likely, giving him a thorough lecturing on the state of his fastball.

"He's been in a pissy mood all day," Chan says with a slight shrug. "We all thought he was about to blow a fuse, until—" He gestures vaguely, his eyes still drawn to the way you're wearing Seungmin's clothes.

"The hoodie is part of the three-step plan," you say wryly. "Seungmin has a thing for seeing me in his clothes."

Chan lets out an unceremonious snort of laughter. "Gee, I wonder why."

You retort by pointedly asking, "Don't you have to throw some balls or something? Better get out of here before your captain decides to make you his next target."

Chan rolls his eyes at your taunt, but he knows it's true.

As if on cue, Seungmin suddenly turns around, and his eyes land on the sight of you and Chan in the bleachers. His jaw clenches, and he immediately begins to stalk towards the two of you.

Chan lets out a low whistle, raising his hands up in defense as Seungmin draws closer. "Hey, hey, I'm going, I'm going—"

Chan is gone before Seungmin can even open his mouth at him, and Seungmin gives you a baleful glare.

"What was Chan saying to you?" he asks coolly, arms crossed as he stands over you. He's sweaty from practice, and his body is tense with irritation.

"We were discussing how much of an absolute ray of sunshine you are," you say dryly.

Chan, from a couple of feet away, hollers, "Do not listen to her, Min!"

Seungmin scowls over at Chan's direction. Chan grins deviously, while Seungmin's features sour even further.

"Insufferable," he mutters under his breath before he turns back to you.

He crosses his arms, his eyes flickering down to the hoodie you're wearing. "That's mine," he says curtly, factually.

You tug the sleeves over your wrists, as if to say, Oh, this little ol' thing? The hoodie was one of Seungmin's older ones. An oversized piece featuring cover art of his favorite band, DAY6.

"You forgot it at my apartment last weekend. When you helped me fix the IKEA shelf," you remind him. "Want it back?"

Seungmin's expression falters for a moment as you tug at the sleeves. The sight of you in his hoodie makes his heart stutter briefly.

He hesitates, momentarily thrown off-balance, but he quickly composes himself and shakes his head. "Yes. I want it back. Immediately."

You let out a small tch of disapproval, but you're in no position to argue. You reach one hand to the back of the hoodie and pull it over your head in one deft movement. Your cropped top underneath rises ever so slightly.

"Here ya go," you say, holding out the hoodie over the railing.

A muscle in Seungmin's jaw ticks as his eyes are drawn to a sliver of exposed skin at your mid-riff, before shooting back up to your face, where his gaze hardens.

He scowls at you— mostly in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that he's suddenly become extremely flustered— and snatches the hoodie from your hands.

"Put a shirt on," he snaps, averting his eyes. "You're distracting."

Distracting me, he neglects to add, but you both know that's what he's thinking.

"I am wearing a shirt," you sigh, leaning back into your seat. The top leaves most of your midriff exposed. "And I was also wearing your hoodie, but it is what it is, I s'pose."

In the grand scheme of things, the amount of skin that the top exposes is a minuscule amount.

But as your best friend and as a guy with eyes, Seungmin knows it's the most dangerous part of your outfit. He tries to look anywhere but the slice of exposed skin, but it's a damn near impossible task.

"Wear something that covers that damn midriff," he grumbles.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and say slowly, as if explaining to a child, "I don't have any other clothes, Kim."

"You couldn't have been bothered to find something less..." He waves one hand in the general direction of your midriff. "Exposed?"

He's aware of how hypocritical he sounds. You, out of everyone in the entire world, have seen him in the bare minimum of clothing. But, in his head, it's different when you walk around in a revealing top. It's not decent, he argues in his head. It's not proper.

More importantly, it's driving him insane.

For some odd reason, he wants no one else looking at you.

"Jesus Christ," you huff.

Seungmin is impossible, pedantic, and stubborn. There are days when you can’t believe you’ve managed not to strangle each other over the last three years.

You shove out your hand, your gaze as cold as steel. "Just loan me the damn hoodie again."

"You—" His jaw clenches. "Fine. Take it. But this is the last time, ever."

He thrusts the hoodie back towards you, and his fingers curl into fists, so as to prevent himself from reaching for you instead.

"It has been the last time ever for three years now," you grumble as you easily slide back into the hoodie. Once it's back in place, you chirp, "Happy?"

Seungmin scoffs, but he doesn't answer.

He looks absolutely livid, but he's more angry at how much he likes you in his hoodie. The image of you in it will be stuck in his mind for days to come, he's sure.

He gives a frustrated huff as he runs a hand through his damp hair, trying— and failing— to quell the swarm of thoughts in his mind. "Yeah," he says gruffly. "Happy."

A beat. And then, you sigh, "Go terrorize your team. I'm taking you out for dinner after."

"What?" he says, incredulous. He knows you well enough to know you're not joking, but he thinks he must be hallucinating. "You— You are?"

It seems impossible that you'd want to spend more time with him, after he's been so moody.

A corner of your lip twitches upward, mimicking the not-quite-a-smirk on Seungmin's face. You retaliate with, "Because I can't just get you coffee every time I want you to forgive me."

That statement alone has Seungmin's smirk spreading into a slow, lazy grin. He folds his arms and tips his head to the side, leaning one hip against the railing.

"So you're bribing me," he says, one eyebrow arched upward. "With food."

"Would you rather I cause a scene?" you prompt. "I can get on my knees. Say the word."

The image of you on your knees before him sends a dangerous shiver down his spine, and Seungmin tightens his arms across his chest. He knows damn well that you'd do it in a heartbeat.

"You wouldn't," he says, his voice a low rasp. He's not sure who he's trying to convince at this point.

You lean forward until your arms dangle over the railing. You press your cheek against your forearm, looking almost like a stretching cat, as you stare straight up at Seungmin. "Try me."

His gaze drifts to the smooth expanse of your bare arms, and in his mind, he's all too aware of just how easy it would be to simply lean over and—

His train of thoughts comes to a screeching halt, and he forcibly drags his gaze back up onto your face. No, he chides himself. Not a wise idea.

The look in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what you're doing to him. He swallows and croaks, "You play dirty."

You break into a proper grin. "And you're not playing at all, captain."

You give a vague gesture to his team, who are all mostly milling about and slacking off in his absence. "Go whip them into shape so we can have dinner sooner."

Seungmin wants to make a snide comment about you giving him orders, but the thought of dinner is enough to have him scowling once more.

He spares a brief glance back at his team, before his gaze snaps back to you. "Fine," he says, narrowing his eyes. "Don't go anywhere."

He pushes away from the railing and heads off reluctantly towards his teammates, making it all too clear that he'd much rather stay and continue bickering with you.

When practice finally, finally ends, Chan bounds up to you, having narrowly escaped the captain's wrath.

"I could kiss you," he announces a little too loudly. "Goddamn miracle worker."

You let out a small 'tch' of disapproval. "You're going to get yourself killed," you sigh, because, of course, Seungmin overheard and is also on his way back.

Seungmin glares at Chan as he approaches, his annoyance returning in full force, but he makes sure to keep a healthy distance away from the other boy.

Chan grins unabashedly at Seungmin. "C'mon, Min, even you have to admit that—"

The look on Seungmin's face makes Chan pause, his smile faltering as he takes a cautious step backwards. Seungmin looks like he'd rather throw Chan off the bleachers than listen to anything he had to say right now.

"Why don't you head home, Chan?" Seungmin says tersely.

Chan's eyes widen, and he raises his hands up in surrender, immediately taking this as his cue to exit.

The second he's out of sight, Seungmin looks back towards you. He's still visibly irritated, and the way he clenches his hands by his sides tells you exactly how happy he is at the moment.

You give Chan a lazy wave as he scurries away. You can feel Seungmin's gaze on the side of your face, but you're careful not to look at him just yet.

Instead, you keep your gaze trained on the baseball pitch, where half the team is trying not to pay attention to you.

"Not that you're interested in Bang," you drawl. "But you make it impossible for any other guy to approach me. You know that, right?"

A muscle in Seungmin's jaw ticks at the mention of another boy potentially having an interest in you.

The sight of you in his hoodie has riled up those feelings— the possessive, protective ones that tell him to keep you close, to not even let anyone look at you the wrong way.

"I think of it more as a public service," he says through gritted teeth. "You shouldn't be dating anyone, anyway."

Seungmin registers the brief flicker of hurt on your face, and he almost flinches.

He doesn't know why he said that, only that the mere thought of you dating someone fills him with irrational anger, which makes no damn sense because you weren't his to begin with.

"Go take your damn shower already," you grumble, already properly acquainted with Seungmin's post-practice routines. "And while you're there, think of what you want for dinner."

At your grumpy tone, he feels a pang of guilt, but he's quick to shove that feeling aside. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it even further. "Fine. See you in ten."

Seungmin heads off to the locker rooms with his bag slung over his shoulder.

By the time he's finished with his shower, he's managed to shove all the guilt and anger and frustration deep down in the confines of his mind.

He doesn't want to sour the mood right before a date— wait, no, it wasn't a date, it was just dinner, right?

He runs a frustrated hand through his still-damp hair as he enters the lobby, his eyes automatically seeking you.

He finds you in your usual spot, leaning against a wall and scrolling through your phone, and the sight in front of him almost has his breath catching in his chest.

For a split second, he almost wonders if it's a vision of his future— of you waiting for him after every game, of you in his hoodie as he walks towards you— but he shakes the thought from his head.

He's not sure he's allowed to have that future.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 6.)

Summary: Things between you and Melissa are working out on their own complicated way. And you start to feel comfortable with your new life while questioning if the redhead really cares about you.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Melissa’s green eyes were fixated on you, a flicker of mischief dancing behind them as she studied your every movement. The intensity of her gaze was enough to make your heart race, a rush of warmth flooding through your chest. There was a quiet power in those eyes, a hypnotic pull that made the air around you heavy. A depth you could never quite comprehend, but it made you crave her in ways you didn’t think it was possible.

She wasn’t just looking at you; she was seeing you, all the parts of you that you never let anyone else touch. And in that moment, you realized she could always read you, knew exactly what was going on inside your head without a word from you. It was both comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

“You’re too quiet, baby,” the redhead murmured, her thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of your mound before pitching gently, making you flinch and moan in response. “What’s going on? Did Mommy left you speechless?”

The way she said everything was soft, different from the teasing and raw degradation that you grow used to and learned to enjoy it. But there was an edge to it—an urgency that tugged at something deep inside you. You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. Your mouth was dry, and you couldn’t seem to form the words that were desperate to escape.

The truth was still clawing at you, fighting to be heard. It wasn’t just about the way she touched you, or how her presence made everything else fade into the background. It was bigger than that. Melissa had become everything to you. She wasn’t just your sugar mommy anymore—she was your world, anchor, everything to you. And the realization hit you like a wave again, crashing over you, pulling you under before you even knew what was happening.

But you couldn’t say it to the older woman about your true feelings, not yet. Not when you were so wrapped up in her touch, in the way her eyes held you captive, in the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered. You couldn’t say it because it felt too real, too raw. Too dangerous.

You wanted to say it. God, how badly you wanted to say it. The words bubbled up in your throat, desperate to escape, to make themselves known to the one person who despite the conditions—made everything feel like it had meaning again. But every time you opened your mouth, they got stuck. You couldn’t do it. No. Not now.

Not when you were so consumed by her touch���the way her fingers brushed against your skin with a tenderness that left you breathless. The way her lips found yours moments earlier with quite intensity, her kisses both soft and demanding all at once. The way her eyes, those deep, searching eyes, seemed to hold you captive, drawing you in with every lingering glance.

The redhead had no idea of the depth of your feelings, of course. She had no idea how deeply you felt, how you burned for her in a way that scared you. She didn’t know that when she smiled at you, when she laughed, or when she looked at you with that unspoken understanding in her gaze, you were drowning in a sea of emotion you didn’t know how to navigate.

It wasn’t just the physical connection that had you tangled up. No. It was the way Melissa made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered. It was the way her presence filled the space around you, making everything else fade into the background. It was the way she made you feel safe—vulnerable, even—but safe.

But how could you tell her? How could you admit to the intensity of what was growing inside of you when you weren’t even sure if she felt the same way?

Hell, you weren’t even sure if she saw you as anything more than a passing sugar baby, a warm body to fill her loneliness and blow off some steam when she needed it. The uncertainty gnawed at you like a hunger you couldn’t satisfy. You wondered—did she use you? Was this just another game to her, another brief entanglement to pass the time until she moved on to someone else? You had no way of knowing. She had never given you any reason to think otherwise, but the thought lingered, uninvited and persistent.

Sometimes you thought she might be just playing with you—testing boundaries, seeing how much you’d let her get away with. The Schemmenti woman wasn’t cruel, but she was careful, and her intentions remained shrouded in mystery. You couldn’t read her the way she seemed to read you, and that left you with an unsettling sense of insecurity. The fear that you were only a toy in her hands, a distraction when she needed one, and nothing more.

You promised to yourself that you would never ask. You would never confront her, never would ask for more that you were receiving because you were too terrified of the answer. Terrified of what it would mean if she told you that all of this—that connection, that spark, those moments that felt so real—was just something fleeting, a brief affair in the grand scheme of things.

Although, you couldn’t help but wish, just for a second, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this. That Melissa Schemmenti wasn’t just using you, that you meant something to her the way she meant everything to you.

The fear of the unknown gripped you, but the desire to be with her—to be more to her than a sugar baby—was stronger than the silence that kept you from speaking your truth. So you held it in, buried it deep where it couldn’t escape. Not yet. Not until you were sure she felt the same.

Because if you said it now, if you told her how much you needed her, how much you liked her, you might just break your own heart. The thoughts raced through your mind, a jumble of confusion, fear, and longing. Could you let yourself be vulnerable like this? Could you trust her with all the pieces of your heart you were so desperate to give, but terrified to lose?

But just as the question swirled in your head, you felt her right hand—warm, sure, and gentle—glide over your back, her fingers brushing the hooks of your purple lacy bra from the lingerie she bought you with an almost practiced ease. A shiver ran down your spine as her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, the sensation so intimate that it knocked every stray thought from your mind.

You hadn't even realized how close she’d gotten, how her arm stretched and reached towards your chest and squeezed your sensitive breasts, making your pink nipples harden at the contact.

“Fuck, Schemmenti,” you forced your eyes shut. You were suddenly hyper aware of every inch of her, of the way she touched the bud between her fingers, twisting and pinching.

There was no hiding from her. Not when Melissa was looking at you like this, her gaze stripping away every defense you’d ever built. Her other thumb from her left hand moved in lazy circles against your lower skin, her touch both teasing and commanding.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” she coaxed, leaning in closer until her lips brushed against your knee. “You know you can tell me anything. You’re mine now. I can feel it. Tell me, what’s going on?”

“I- nothing,” you stammered, breathing fast while covering your face with sweaty hands. “Just- keep going. Please, Mommy.”

Her green eyes locked onto yours, darker now, full of hunger. She moved lower again, her breath hot against your inner thighs. Then, with an ease that made your breath catch in your throat, she buried her face between your shaky legs that were already spread for the only Melissa Schemmenti, you couldn’t speak properly, couldn’t answer anything. Your heart thundered in your chest as her touch edged you closer to surrender. She tilted her head, auburn hair spilling over her shoulder like a cascade of silk, and lowered herself further between your thighs. Her swollen lips brushed your dripping folds as she parted them gently with her firm fingers.

You tried to form words, but all that came out was a broken stutter, your tone trembling. “M-Mel... I… I can’t… I c-can’t… I... oh, God.” The rest was lost in a breathless moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with the lightest touch.

“You’re drenched like a freakin’ waterfall, hun. That’s perfect ‘cause I’m ready to eat you out,” she purred, voice heavy with intent. You gasped, your body arching instinctively, craving more of her touch, craving her fingers inside you. But just as you thought you were going to lose yourself in her, just as her lips were about to press against your sweet pussy, the sound of something—or better, someone echoed through the entire room, loud and clear enough for both of you to hear.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Missy, sweetheart? It’s Pearl,” the voice of her longtime retired housekeeper and confidante echoed through the penthouse. “I need a moment of your time downstairs! It’s urgent.”

The sound reached further through the bedroom, breaking the moment entirely. You froze, heart racing in panic, your entire body tensing at the unexpected interruption. The thought of being caught in such a vulnerable position sent waves of embarrassment through you. You tried to cover yourself instinctively, pulling the blanket over your naked form as Melissa let out a frustrated curse under her breath.

The older woman gruffed, pushing herself off the messy bed with a frustrated sigh. “What the fuck,” she muttered, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She shot you an apologetic look, but it only made you feel more exposed. Your body was still trembling from the tension, and you could feel your face flushing with embarrassment.

“W-What if she comes in?” you prompted, the words slipping out with fear and vulnerability, your pulse still racing from the sudden interruption.

Melissa, still adjusting the collar of her shirt, glared toward the closed door, her brow furrowed in irritation. “She won’t,” she muttered firmly, smoothing the fabric of her trousers. She turned back toward you, and for a brief moment, her gaze softened.

You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you watched her pull herself together, her every movement deliberate, trying to mask the way the tension hung in the air between you two.

“You’re sure?” you asked, your voice small, almost pleading.

“Yeah,” the redhead replied, her tone much steadier now. She wasn’t looking at you as she adjusted her sleeves, but you could see her lips press into a tight line, the frustration giving way to something else—a quiet possessiveness, like she was trying to calm you without admitting how much this was bothering her. She then stopped, turning to face you directly, her posture shifting.

“I’ll be right back,” she said softly, low but confident. She took a few steps toward you, pausing right in front of where you lay.

You looked up at her, the blanket still clutched to your chest, unsure of what she was going to do next. Olive eyes locked with yours, and she lowered herself just enough to be within arm’s reach. Without breaking her gaze, she cupped your chin gently, tilting your head back a little, her fingers cool against your skin.

“Open your mouth,” she commands, but it wasn’t harsh—just quiet, almost tender.

You blinked, your heart fluttering as her gaze intensified. There was something in the way she said it that made your body obey before your mind could question it. Your lips parted, and almost immediately, you felt her finger still wet with your scent slide past them, resting lightly against the inside of your mouth.

You stared up at her and whined, your wide eyes full of that familiar mix of longing and uncertainty, the sensation of her finger so close to you filling you with both warmth and vulnerability. And you couldn’t help but suck on her digits like it was your job.

“Good girl. It looks like someone has a oral fixation, good to know,” she murmured, her thumb brushing lightly across your lower lip before she pulled away, her expression softening ever so slightly. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her touch lingering a little longer than necessary, as if memorizing the feel of you under her fingertips.

You kept quiet, processing Melissa’s features aching adoration. She let out a breath, almost like she was trying to steady herself before turning toward the door, but not before casting one last look over her shoulder.

The moment the door clicked shut, you exhaled a shaky breath, your heart still racing as you tried to compose yourself. The silence that followed was deafening, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something that neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

In the stillness of the house, you heard the faint hum of voices coming from downstairs. Melissa and Pearl. Their voices were muffled, but you could make out the tension in their tone, the words they were whispering between themselves too faint to catch, but heavy with unspoken truths. You curled further into the bed, the sheets pulling tighter around you as you pressed your face into the pillow, trying to drown out the faint sounds.

The low rumble of a car engine, starting and then fading as it pulled away from the driveway, filled the air. Your hand tightened around the blanket as reality began to settle in. Melissa was gone. She promised to you that she would be back quickly. It wasn’t just the absence of her presence in the house—it was the absence of her warmth, her voice, the life she brought.

Minutes ago. The last time you had seen her, you had been so sure that nothing would have interrupted your almost tentative of sex.

But now, it was just you. And her sudden absence felt louder than anything. Frustrating, even.

You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as a bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Well, this is fantastic,” you muttered sarcastically to the empty room. “Who knew it could turn into this?” You buried your face in your hands, the ache in your chest growing. Your own bitterness mixed with the hollow space she left behind, and you couldn’t tell which hurt more—the nonchalant way she left, her absence or the way the world seemed to spin on without her.

You spent the next hours wandering through the redhead’s penthouse, marveling at the sheer opulence of it all. The sleek, modern furniture, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city, and the art that adorned the walls—it was all so far removed from your cramped, old dingy apartment.

Your eyes wide with awe, as your fingers brushed lightly against the polished wood and cold marble that adorned the space. The grandeur was overwhelming—a stark contrast to your own previous home, where cramped spaces and peeling wallpaper made up the bulk of your existence. The penthouse was like a dream, all glass windows that looked out over the city and surfaces that gleamed, untouched and pristine.

With a quiet sigh, you turned back to the bathroom, and that's when you noticed the tub—a massive marble thing that looked more like a small pool than anything you’d ever seen before. The sight of it made your heart flutter. You had to try it. The thought of the bubbling water pulling you in like a soothing embrace was more than enough to sway you. The whole penthouse felt like an oasis compared to the clutter and grime of your own place.

You moved closer to it, slowly running your fingers along the smooth marble edges. A bottle of champagne sat on the counter beside it, glinting in the soft light, its gold foil catching your eye like a beacon. It felt almost surreal—like something out of a movie.

You chuckled softly at yourself, half-laughing, half-giddy. The idea of indulging like this, something you’d never thought you’d do, felt like a small rebellion against everything in your life. You uncorked the champagne, the satisfying pop echoing in the bathroom. The bubbles inside danced like tiny stars, and you poured yourself a glass, the cool liquid an instant contrast to the humid heat of the water.

Slipping into the tub, the water engulfed you, its warmth wrapping around you like a blanket, relaxing every muscle in your body. You sank deeper, feeling the bubbles fizz around you, the steam rising and swirling in the air like a cloud. You took a deep breath, letting it all go, letting the warmth of the water take over and clear your mind of the mess of your life.

The glass of champagne rested comfortably in your hand as you leaned back, the tension that had built up over the past few weeks melting away. You could feel your body starting to relax—something you hadn’t been able to do for so long. You closed your eyes for a moment, imagining yourself as someone new, someone who was leaving the dirty, cramped world of your apartment behind and live like this every day. The thought made you smile.

But that smell, the scent of old clothes, garbage, and the stagnant air of your apartment, still clung to you. You could almost taste it on your tongue, but it was fading away with each passing second. Here, in the luxurious warmth of the bath, you felt different. Clean. Free.

You took another sip of champagne and sighed, your thoughts drifting, your body swaying with the ripples of the water. This moment felt so far removed from the cluttered, stale reality that awaits you.

After your bath, you padded back to the main area, more specifically on the closet, wrapping yourself in one of Melissa’s robes. The fabric was luxuriously soft against your skin, and its scent—cigarettes, expensive perfume, and something distinctly her–wrapped around you like a quiet, fleeting embrace. You buried your face in the collar, inhaling deeply, feeling a pang of longing settle heavy in your chest.

You could feel the weight of the silence in the room, the penthouse too quiet without the older woman’s presence. Unable to resist, you reached for your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you typed out a simple text.

Hey, are you okay? :(

It wasn’t long before the message buzzed back with a curt response.

Busy. Be home late.

You stared at the cold words for a moment, the disappointment settling in your gut, an unshakable knot of worry that twisted tighter with each passing second. You set the phone down, heading to her bedroom to lay on her expensive bed—not caring about going to the spare bedroom, staring at the ceiling as the hours dragged on.

Finally, the front door creaked open well after nightfall. You heard the soft thud of her heels against the marble floor and got up, the sound stopping abruptly at the doorway. The rhythm of her footsteps—always so sure, so in control—was different tonight. More tired.

When she appeared in the doorway, she looked… broken. Her green eyes were red, streaked with the traces of exhaustion and something deeper—something unspoken. Melissa Schemmenti’s usually perfect, poised demeanor was replaced with something that felt more fragile, more human. She didn’t say a word, just kicked off her heels with a quiet sigh and padded into the room.

Her movements were slow, almost languid, as she stripped off her clothes, shedding her ‘armor’ piece by piece until she was left in nothing but a simple white shirt, the fabric loose against her skin. She didn’t even bother to look at you as or question about you being there without permission as she climbed into the bed.

The moment her cigarette touched her red lips and the first drag of smoke slid from between them, you could feel the tension in the air. It was as though she was trying to calm something inside her, and yet, it only made her seem more distant.

Still, the urge to be near Melissa was undeniable. You crossed the room with quiet steps, your heart racing, and sat beside her on the bed. You didn’t speak, unsure what to say, what to do. The silence between you was thick, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt… like a shared space of unvoiced understanding.

Melissa didn’t look at you, but after a long moment, her hand reached out—her fingers brushing against your wrist before wrapping gently around it. The gesture was so tender, so soft, that it sent a shiver down your soul.

Without saying anything, she pulled you down, guiding you to rest your head against her chest, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. You could hear her heartbeat, erratic at first, but gradually steadying as you settled into the crook of her shoulder. The heat of her skin, the softness of her shirt against your cheek—it was like being wrapped in a sanctuary.

The Italian redhead still didn’t speak, but her other hand came up to cradle your head, her fingers threading gently through your hair. You pressed a kiss to the side of her chest, right over her heart. The cigarette smoke lingered in the air, but it was no longer the thing that filled your senses. It was the warmth of her, the rise and fall of her breath, and the quiet, steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“Stay with me tonight. We talk more in the morning,” she whispered, barely above a breath. The words held so much weight, an invitation wrapped in vulnerability, as though she needed you more than she was willing to admit.

“Okay,” you nodded without hesitation, your lips brushing against her skin, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke all the things you couldn’t put into words.

Her arms tightened around you then, pulling you closer, her body against yours, as if she feared you might slip away if she let go. There was a tension in her, something coiled tight beneath the surface, but the longer you stayed there, the more it unraveled. She breathed in, deeply, and then out again, and you felt her begin to relax. The weight of her exhaustion settled deeper, her movements slowing until they stilled entirely.

You pressed another kiss to Melissa’s chest, lingering there, your lips warm against her skin, feeling the subtle shift of her breath as she started to drift. Her body melted into the bed, her grip on you loosening, and the space between you felt infinite—no longer heavy with the unspoken words of the night, but soft with the weight of shared silence.

Her breathing became slower, more even, and you knew that she was falling asleep, her body surrendering to the warmth and comfort of your touch.

You stayed there for a while, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the steady rhythm that grounded you both. Your fingers lightly traced the outline of her shirt, brushing against her skin where it peeked out from the collar. Your lips found her chest again, a soft kiss that promised to stay as long as she needed.

And as she slept, curled around you, her warmth and presence surrounding you like a quiet haven, you knew you’d stay with her. No matter what happens.

[al0velyuniverse]

IDiVIDUAL HEADCANONS ABT THE LAST ASK😓😓😓

I think this is the same anon as the one who asked about the drunk 141 x reader😭😭

Coming home drunk

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Johnny is a mess when he comes home from drinking with the boys. Hands and lips all over you while you try to help him get undressed and into some sort of pajamas. Your face is being covered in kissed while you try to help him get his shirt off, whispers of “I luv ya my bonnie lass” when his lips are close enough to your ear. He never fails to make you a flustered mess

When you finally get him into bed with you he’s sprawled on top of you like a dog. Johnny tries to undress you but falls asleep halfway through. His grip is inescapable too, good luck trying to wiggle out of it until he’s properly awake.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Kyle hates coming home drunk. He’s usually just as much of a mess, if not worse, than Johnny. He usually doesn’t make it home until after you’re fast asleep. He doesn’t want to wake you up so he’s doing his best to be quiet. The thing about Kyle is, he’s one of those people who only thinks he’s being quiet. In reality you’re being stirred awake by the sound of the door slamming shut and his boots clattering to the floor as he clumsily makes his way to the couch.

Your sleepy voice asking him what he’s doing startles him halfway off of the couch. You’re given a profuse apology for being so loud as Kyle drags you onto the couch with him, you curling up in his lap like a cat. When you both wake up in the morning he’s keeping you trapped with him for at least an hour. “you’re the best hangover cure there is” is the only excuse he’s got.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

When Simon gets too drunk out with the boys you end up having to drive out to pick him up. You’re summoned on the phone by Soap, you can hear your boyfriend yelling in the background about wanting his Dovie. He’s insistent on demanding your presence, complaining that his lovie isn’t there. However when you show up at the bar and try to give him a kiss he gently pushes you away. “you’re a pretty bird but I got a missus at home, wife won’t be too happy to see you trynna kiss me like this” This would have been sweet except you weren’t married. Johnny helps you escort Simon to your car and buckled in without much protest, he’s muttering something about ‘ruining the surprise’ as he helps.

When you finally get home Simon locks you out of the bedroom “can’t have the wife finding you in bed with me when she gets home” he yells from the other side of the door. You end up on the couch with a huff, you can’t even really be that mad though, at least he’s dedicated to you. Simon finds you the next morning and scoops you up to bring you back to your bedroom “hell you doin out there dove?”

One embarrassing explanation later Simon is hiding his face and swearing off drinking.

John Price

John holds his liquor better than any of his teammates so he doesn’t get too drunk when he’s out with the boys. However when he gets home and pours himself a glass of scotch you know you’re going to be there for a while. He always pulls you onto his lap when he drinks, enjoying the way your skin serves as a sweet chaser on his lips as he sips his drink. His beard always tickles you and makes you giggle and squirm. You’re stuck there as he pours glass after glass, giving you little sips occasionally until you’ve got a small buzz.

John caries to you to bed, the scotch making you oh so sleepy. He helps you slip into his favorite nightgown and strips to his boxers before getting nice and comfy with you in bed. His big hands grip and grope you, not in a sexual way, he just likes feeling your soft skin under his cracked and calloused fingers. Not matter how drunk he was the night before you’re always the one to wake up to a full breakfast with all your favorites.

[acciofictionalmen]

fallout in the snowfall ❆ part 1

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james kisses you on an adrenaline high, your friendship is in shambles as the true meaning of "just friends" becomes irreparably warped. you both desperately try to restore the platonic bond that you once shared, but at what cost...

warnings: strong language, sexual references

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

Music drowned out your senses, the beat thrumming through your body as intensely as the pounding of your heart. Hoarse from screaming, your throat tickled as you laughed with your friends, revelling in Gryffindor's success from the day's Quidditch match against Slytherin.

Lights flashed across the Gryffindor Common Room as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open, people whooping as James was carried inside, basking in the attention like a cat- like a lion in the sunlight. Everyone began chanting his name, you joining in with a laugh as he was hauled even higher on Sirius' shoulders, people reaching over to smack him on the back as he swayed precariously. His tousled hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flaming red from the thrill, glasses cracked in one lens and his eyes... they burnt with the aftermath of success, glowing with that glimmer only a decisive victory could bring. His eyes scanned the room as he craned his neck, looking, searching; until his gaze landed on yours.

Something seemed to crackle in the air between you, the intensity of his fiery eyes pulling your body forwards, as though you needed to be near him. The chatter of your friends slowly faded into the background as you paused, biting your lip uncertainly.

James, on the other hand, wasn't one to hesitate. Not when he had been younger - when if he had wanted something he took it without a second thought - and certainly not now. James had enjoyed the perks of a privileged upbringing, and there were certain aspects he wasn't ready to relinquish yet.

Tapping Sirius firmly on the shoulder, his best friend loosened his hold and James jumped down. His eyes never left yours. He strode forwards, pushing past people as they cheered and tried to clap him on the back, his expression glazed with determination. No-one was going to get in the way of what he wanted.

Everything seemed to slow as James reached you. The music died in your ears, the loud cheering gradually fading. Your mind was a whirlpool of emotions, unsure where this was going, but also ready. James' chest heaved with adrenaline as he neared, closing the already small distance between you. His eyes flashed dangerously as his tongue darted out to wet his pink lips. You looked up at him, doe eyes wide, yet simmering with longing that had been repressed for far too long.

James considered your uncertain expression as his hand dragged up and down your shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner. As your best friend, James had always been touchy, but this was different.

It drove you crazy.

"A few kisses won't ruin our friendship, love."

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smiled slyly; his need for you in that moment so palpable that your skin flushed beneath his gaze.

The look he was giving you. Of exasperation, of longing, of want. You knew your face mirrored his.

James grunted with the force of his lips colliding with yours. His hands flew to your waist as you met in a flurry of passion and lust and want as one of his hands snaked up your side and tugged at your hair, eliciting a gasp- he stole it away with another kiss, then another, and another. The music flooding your ears once more combined with the vibrant lights hot on your skin and James' lips on yours surged the intensity of the moment to new heights. Heights that you teetered precariously on, feeling free and unreachable but capable of crashing at any moment.

He broke away for a split second as you both gasped for air, eyes frantically searching the others, as though you needed confirmation that this was happening, before pulling you back into him as though your lips on his could offer more relief than oxygen ever could. You were his lifeline and right now, James felt more alive than he could ever recall.

The night blended together in a haze of drinks, lights, laughter and more stolen kisses, the memory simultaneously so clear yet vague that you could only be left to ponder (and regret) everything that had occurred the following morning, as you trailed down to the common room from the girl's dormitories, massaging your forehead in a futile attempt to relieve your hangover. You hadn't expected to find James, who apparently hadn't even managed to make it to bed, asleep on the crimson sofa.

The creaking of the stairs as you crept forwards caused him to stir in his sleep, sitting up groggily once he noticed you.

He blinked a few times, forcing the sleep away, and stood up suddenly.

Groaning, he sat back down.

"Hungover hit yet?" You smirked, sitting down next to him.

James' black hair was the messiest you'd seen in a while and his glasses still flaunted a thin crack.

Leaning over him you raised your wand, muttering 'Oculus Reparo' as the crack sealed itself.

His eyes stayed shamelessly on your lips the entire time. You hesitated, not instantly moving away.

It was the signal James had been waiting for. Before you could speak his hands snaked around your waist.

His fingers lifted your chin, his eyes half-lidded as he murmured, "One more won’t hurt." His lips brushed against your lips as he murmured against you, “Right?”

You nodded, breathless as he swept hair away from your face.             

So, he had remembered last night.

He leaned in, grazing his lips against yours again as though he was testing his own self-restraint, playing a dangerous game as he tested both of your boundaries. They didn't hold.

Within moments, James had lifted you onto his lap, kissing you with as much urgency as he had only a few hours ago. You returned the action, your hands tangling into his hair, determined to make the most of this kiss if it would be your last. James' hands brushed up and down your sides, sending sparks surging through your body.

You pulled away, eyes still closed as his forehead pressed against yours, "What is this, James, what was last night?" You breathed, scared to shatter the moment you hadn’t realised you’d wanted so desperately.

He groaned at the absence of your lips as his hands circled your lower back, "Friends kiss, love."

His eyes glinted with that familiar confidence beneath his glasses and you were unable to look away, that brief glimmer only enticing you more. His voice was rough as he spoke slowly, "Would you like me to stop, my best friend? My bestest girl?"

Your hands tightened in his hair at the pet name. His words should have thrown you off. They should have. But you had unknowingly craved this for so long, and this... maybe it worked. You could satisfy the part of you that craved him without the threat of losing your friendship.

"Don't stop."

The words triggered something in him, and James leant in.

──── ୨୧ ────

The kisses didn't stop.

Whenever you sat down with him at breakfast James greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, his hand lingering on your thigh throughout the meal.

He'd steal kisses from you after class, people conveniently crowded outside as he’d pull away, a smirk gracing those intoxicating lips.

Every time he kissed you sent shivers through your body- the feeling addictive. But soon, you began waiting for something. Waiting for the moment he'd pull away, his eyes searching yours, and ask for something more.

It hadn't taken long for the others to notice, but any ideas of the two of you together were quickly quenched by James' assertions that the two of you were the closest of friends- and nothing more.

He'd kiss you after quidditch practice when Gideon Prewett was getting on his nerves. Because he needed it, he always claimed. Because a kiss from his best friend was what he needed after he'd worked so hard and had to deal with irritating team mates. You were more than happy to oblige.

He'd kiss you when you'd hang out with the group, pulling you onto his lap when you all sat together by the black lake, laughing at the group’s jokes. This carried on for so long that it became integrated into your normal routine, the others long beyond questioning anymore.

But after the initial two weeks, it didn't feel right. It felt stagnant, and you began wondering if you’d be forever trapped between friendship and something more. By the third week, you felt empty.

You recounted this to Mary MacDonald, one of your closest friends. She listened patiently as you spilled every detail on the floor of the girl's dormitory, your legs crossed as the words tumbled out of your mouth.

She placed a hand on your wrist, causing your rambling to skid to a halt.

"How do you actually feel about all this, (Y/n)?" She questioned, waving her freshly painted pink nails through the air, trying to dry them before she did yours.

"I-" you frowned, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips over your lips. The ghost of James' lips temporarily invaded your thoughts, "I love it when he kisses me."

Mary's eyes glimmered with something you couldn't recognise, but she kept quiet, prompting you to continue.

"But it's not enough. It's not enough," the words began to pour out, and you couldn't stop them, "I almost feel greedy- I want more. When he kissed me for the first time something changed and I- I don’t know. I guess I thought things would be different. That they would’ve developed by now.”

Mary sat patiently, admiring her freshly painted nails as she gave you space to sort through your thoughts.

“I love his kisses, but all they do is remind me that they're not enough." You paused, Mary's brows furrowed as she watched you, "I want more." You whispered, your voice quiet, barely audible. The words merged with the comfortable silence between the two of you as she mulled over your confession.

Mary wasn't one to offer a meaningless response, and that was something you adored her for- she genuinely cared. Still pondering, she gently placed your left hand on her knee as she began to paint your nails in the pretty wine-red colour you'd selected earlier.

It was once she reached your ring finger that she finally spoke, "You deserve more, (Y/n), and I'll be damned if that makes you greedy."

She paused again, eyes crinkling as she focused on wiping some stray polish from your finger.

"It’s human to crave a proper relationship- not whatever James is doing. I don't think he's quite realised it, but he's taking advantage of you, (Y/n). He's giving you the bare minimum."

Her blunt words snapped your eyes up from your nails, your left hand done as you replaced it with your right.

"I don't want to stop being friends with him." You said, hesitantly.

"And you won't," Mary's eyes lit up, "All I'm saying is if that jerk wants to kiss you, he has to work for it." She insulted James with that level of affection shared by old friends, but there was an edge to her voice.

You laughed, but her words resonated within you, particularly with your level of self-respect. Entirely consumed by this change in dynamic with James, you’d unintentionally disregarded your dignity in the process. Allowed him to assume you'd always be there, lips puckered and eyes closed.

You shivered at the thought. The revelation sent a wave of bitterness through your body. You weren't angry at James, no, more so at yourself for putting up with this for so long.

Mary smirked, recognising the resolution in your eyes as she finally set down the nail varnish, screwing the lid on, "It’s about time James Potter had to actually work for something."

You held back a snort, eyes crinkled with amusement.

"Thank you, Mare." You gestured to your nails, but she caught the double meaning.

"Anything for my best friend." She stood quickly, cursing as she almost smudged one of her nails, "Dinner?"

Within minutes you’d entered the hall, arms linked with Mary’s as you marvelled at the newly put up Christmas decorations. Just over a month away from Christmas, they glowed brightly; snowflakes swirled down from the enchanted ceiling, fading into nothing before they could touch the people sat beneath. Wreaths hung above every fireplace, which crackled comfortingly... and the tree. At the opposite end of the hall stood the massive fir tree, one you could've sworn got bigger each year. Baubles shimmered against the glow of the candles, the tinsel and angel hair that had been carefully draped over the branches made it look as though the tree had been dunked in pure starlight. Magic never ceased to amaze you; there really was a charm for everything.

As you scoured the Gryffindor table in search of your friends, Lily happened to look up at the same time and waved you over. Your breath hitched, noticing there was a seat either next to her or next to James. Mary gave you a pointed look as she slid down into the seat next to the latter, leaving you to join Lily- opposite him instead. James immediately looked up as Mary sat down, his brow crinkling slightly as he turned to you. It was no secret he’d saved that seat for you, and an uncomfortable moment passed before the others resumed their conversation.

Having just returned from practice, James was dressed in mud-splattered quidditch gear, the word gryffindor stretched across his broad chest. His hair was that familiar mess, and you mused whether you could run your fingers through it without them getting stuck. He downed his full glass of pumpkin juice in one, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your fingers drummed steadily on your thigh as you slipped in and out of Sirius’ story, laughing occasionally, but unable to dedicate your focus when James was sat directly opposite.

Only your eyes were on Sirius as he wildly gestured with his hands, recounting the tale; your mind wasn’t on his words. James’ leg brushed yours under the table, a bid for your attention. You didn’t react, dragging your attention back to Sirius instead and joining in to laugh at something else he’d said. What exact you were laughing about, you weren’t sure.

It felt wrong, almost unnatural, not to be touching James in some way. In just three weeks your body had gotten so accustomed to his lingering touches, his sly brushes against your thighs, that you felt unsettled by the lack of them. You noticed James flexing his large hands, as though he too didn’t know what to do with them if they weren’t on you.

You exhaled with relief when the food came, snapping you out of your thoughts yet again- a welcome distraction. As you began to fill your plate with steaming piles of food, your eyes fell on Mary’s. She had been engaging with the rest of the group’s antics, but the knowing look in her eyes told you she’d been observing the both of you the whole time.

She gave you a smirk, flexing her right hand dramatically, just as James had done. You snorted, your hand instantly flying up to your mouth to stifle your laughter. The tension momentarily evaporated as you realised that nothing escaped your best friend’s notice. The others paused, looking confused, but Mary quickly waved them off after muttering something about an inside joke. You only giggled in response.

After a collection of mouth-watering meals you stood, exhausted and ready to sleep. Mary and Lily also got up, both ready to leave. You didn't kiss James on the cheek as you usually did, instead linking arms with your friends as you left the sparkling hall.

You weren't ignoring James. No- from now on you’d simply treat him as a friend, because in the past few weeks the meaning of the word had gotten so twisted between the two of you. You were determined to restore it, unwilling to settle for kisses that amounted to nothing.

You had had an hour to mull over Mary's words. James' behaviour was intentional- it wasn't as though he hadn't had every opportunity to turn your situation into something more. It was James who had constantly enforced the 'friend' idea the hmost, leading you to assume he wasn't interested in you the way you were him. And that was fine- but you'd show him what a true friend was. Challenge his claim that friendship involved his lips on yours.

James silently stared after you, Sirius snorting, "How've you fucked that one up, man?"

"There's nothing to fuck up." James rolled his shoulders nonchalantly, ignoring how they suddenly felt heavy.

"Sure." Sirius' eyes flashed knowingly, "And Pete didn't fuck up his charms test."

Peter had gotten a T (Troll) on his most recent charms test.

Remus rolled his eyes, shooting Peter an apologetic look as he stood from the table, "Well, I'll leave you all to it."

And so he did, leaving James entangled in thoughts almost as messy as his hair and filled with a desperation to know why you’d seemed so distant. He chalked it down to your having a bad day, certain that tomorrow you wouldn't be able to stay away from him again.

Oh, how wrong he was.

EEK!!!! i can't believe im about to press post.. i've been working on this series idea for a long while... truthfully most of my ideas get scrapped after a few weeks but this one really really stuck with me so i'm glad I didn't press delete on the word doc... i'm thinking this'll be about six-ish parts, so bear with me :,) this series will be christmas themed, so expect loads of snow and presents to come!

& if you'd like to be added to the taglist do lmk! i'd be honoured to add you ♡

and please feel free to share your thoughts, opinions, reactions, what you think will happen next... i love reading them allll

series masterlist here ❆

[sagesturns]

Cozy In The Chaos

Summary: During a sudden rainstorm, you and Chris build a cozy pillow fort, enjoying each other's company and the quiet comfort of the moment. Laughter, playful teasing, and shared warmth turn the fort into a peaceful escape from the storm outside.

contains: fluff!

The rain came without warning. One moment the sky seemed cloudy and the next the clouds parted and water began to fall like a waterfall. The windows rattled as the wind roared and one was almost feeling a little confined within the house. But, in all honesty, one did not feel bothered. The storm was, in a way, soothing. The way everything felt like it moved at a much slower pace outside.

You stood at the window and peered out for a pause as you enjoyed the rain. The city out there was unrecognizable behind the glass with monotonous colors and you couldn’t help but contemplate about the span for this weather for quite a long time.

Then, you heard a fabric shift followed by a light thump sound somewhere behind you.

You turned just in time to see Chris toss a pillow your way, his grin already spreading as he motioned to the couch. “Pillow fort time?”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow as you caught the pillow in your hands. “A pillow fort?”

Chris leaned against the back of the couch, looking utterly proud of himself. "Yeah! Why not? We've got time. The storm won't let us go anywhere."

You smiled. Warmth flooded your heart at the thought. It was silly, but those very spur-of-the-moment things were exactly the sort of fun you had with him—distinct moments that made the ordinary days remarkable.

"Okay," you said, considerately tossing the pillow on the floor. "You build it, I supervise." 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Supervise? You mean, ‘help,’ right?” You chuckled. “Exactly.”

You both had started gathering piles of pillows from the couch, blankets from the bed, and anything else that could be used to assemble your kingdom. Chris surprisingly proved to be fast about it, draping the blankets over the couch and chairs, forming walls and a delicately constructed roof, while you tossed pillows and blankets wherever you could to make the place as cozy as you could. 

The process was a mix of laughter and a little chaos. Every time Chris tried to stack the pillows, the whole structure would topple, and he’d groan in mock frustration, sending you into fits of giggles.

“You are terrible at this,” you teased, adjusting one of the blankets that had fallen askew.

Chris raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Maybe I need a little help. But I’m good at making this fun.”

You crawled into the partially completed fort and threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. "Okay; I’ll let you off the hook just this once!". “Lucky me,” he said with a wink, following you into the fort.

Inside, the space was snug. The walls of blankets and pillows made the living room feel like a whole new world—one that was warm and private, cut off from the storm outside. You both settled in, your shoulders brushing as you lay back against the cushions. The sound of the rain still filled the room, but now it felt like background noise to your own little haven.

You shifted slightly, propping your head up on a pillow, your gaze drifting to the window again, watching the rain pound against the glass. The world outside seemed so far away in this little space with Chris. You felt the weight of the day lifting, the kind of peace that only came from being here, in this quiet, shared moment.

After a few seconds, you felt Chris shift beside you. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his presence so clearly, his body just a little too close to not notice. You glanced at him, and your eyes locked for a moment. His gaze softened and the air between you held still for a beat—just the two of you in this cozy fort, all surrounded by blankets and the sound of the rain.

He held your gaze and, for a brief moment, neither of you spoke. Something inside you built, something unsaid. Slowly, Chris began to lean in, still gazing into his own. The kiss was soft and lingering, gentle at first, warm, and then it grew tender, slow, drawing out until you both parted breathless.

Chris smiled tenderly as he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed down at you. "You are so gorgeous," he whispered, hardly audible above the sound of the storm. 

Those words make your heart flutter. Without a second thought, you leaned in again and kissed him, this time with quiet urgency. A soft laugh escaped you and you pressed your forehead against his when you finally pulled away.

"I think we're both getting a bit too comfortable in this fort," you said with a teasing smile. Chris chuckled, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you closer. “Can’t say I’m complaining.”

You smiled, sinking into his embrace, your body settling against his as you both laid back onto the pillows. The rain outside continued, but here, in your blanket fort, everything felt soft and warm. The comfort of sharing each other's company in quietude was what kept the rush of the moment away and unworried.

A few moments passed, peaceful and still, before Chris spoke up again, this time his voice quieter, almost sleepy.

"So, after this... we could make a couple of hot chocolates. With lots of marshmallows. Maybe even a little whipped cream.”You smiled, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath you. “Sounds perfect.”

He paused, then added, “And we bring the hot chocolate back to the fort. No rules. We’re fort royalty now.”

You giggled softly at his playful tone, feeling completely at ease, tucked into his arms. “Deal. But we have to pick a movie first. Something really cheesy. Like, so cheesy it’ll make us cringe.”

Chris laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got it. As long as it's kind of cheesy.”You stayed like that for a while, the two of you slowly drifting, the comfort of the moment wrapping around you.

Eventually, Chris broke the silence with a quiet, teasing tone, “Alright, but I have one rule for this fort: If you spill that hot chocolate on me, you’re sleeping outside the fort.”

You laughed, your body shaking with the sound of it. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep my distance from your lap then.”

“Good,” Chris said with mock seriousness. “We don’t want to mess up our fort’s reputation. It’s too important.”

The light teasing, the warmth of his arms, and the shared laughter felt like everything you needed. With the storm still raging outside, you both settled deeper into the blankets, slowly drifting off to sleep, wrapped in the cozy haven you’d created—together.

word count: 1.5k (1,574)

tags: @sweetshuga

a/n: first Chris fluff, finally deserve it after writing all of his fic angst  😭. hope you enjoyyy. tysm for all the love and followers I've been gaining. it means the worlddd. <3.

@sagesturns

[grimmsbride]

USELESS FUCKING JANITOR [ daisuke / reader ]

after a small incident with jimmy, you’re left feeling miserable and a little bad for yourself. luckily a certain useless ray of sunshine pops in just to comfort you

tags / jimmy mentions & him being a dick | ooc characters | reader is a janitor | this fic is kind of messy i apologize | fluff | kissing | two young idiots and their feelings | daisuke can’t stand jimmy | reader lowkey needs to stand up for herself | just fluff nothing more | minor hurt w/ comfort

notes / this originally was gonna be smut but i decided to go a different direction, whilst the next daisuke fic will def be smut. please enjoy and please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes

You hadn’t know the co-captain for long. You didn’t know much about his background, values, or morals. You didn’t know a thing about him, yet you knew enough to steer clear of his path. Something about him was unnerving, and sometimes downright odd. One such being the way he loved to pick people apart. Metaphorically digging his fingers into a person, pulling each little insecurity as if perfect bullets for his emotional ammo. You’ve seen Jimmy do this to Anya, reminding her of her flaws and lack of accomplishments. You wondered how exactly she continued the day as if his words had no effect. Like water off a duck’s back.

Other times it was his captain and even friend Curly. Though far in between. While few times it was Daisuke, the only bundle of optimism left tracking around the ship. You couldn’t deny the affection you were slowly developing for the other. Was it simply you being a hormonal young woman in close capacity with another hormonal young man surrounded by grumpy older people? Or was it something else? Either way you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered each time he would smile at you, wave, or even blink in your direction.

Let alone how he met Jimmy’s usually harsh words with a bright beam of a smile, declaring he’ll do better. Only for the co-captain to sigh and mumble something under his breath, truly bothered by the intern’s existence.

If only you were capable of taking a piece of his personality in times like this.

The day had started off simple, you walking around; earbuds shoved in whilst cleaning up. From dusting, scrubbing, to wiping down surfaces; you were nearly done with your daily duties. Unless of course someone made a mess later, but the others were luckily nice enough to clean up after themselves like the grown people they were.

The last task was to mop, one you dreaded quite a bit. While the clean smell the chemicals left behind were a nice touch, you truly hated how heavy the mop got or how bulky that ugly yellow bucket was. Regardless of your opinion you had a job to do, and fulfill it you would.

The wheels squeaked against the floors as you dragged the large bucket, the chemical-water swishing against the walls of the plastic container. You slowed your dragging as you came across the hallway, humming softly along to the music currently blasting in your ears.

You silently thanked your past self for the taking the time to pack your i-pod, knowing you wouldn’t be able to survive a second on this place without it. And despite Curly’s slight reservations about it — safety and all that — he didn’t bother you much since you got your work done efficiently.

Plunging the long stringed mop into the water, you slowly lifted the heavy weight up and between the unholy yellow contraption. Grabbing the black bar, you pushed, wringing out the excess water for a moment before releasing the mop from the tension. Once satisfied you lifted the mop out, slowly dragging it against the floor in careful strides, assuring each space was throughly cleaned.

In the midst of your focus, and between songs; you couldn’t help but hear a voice you came to enjoy. Your eyes flicked to the side, spotting Daisuke standing in the main lobby, wearing a nervous smile whilst his mentor stood over him.

You couldn’t make out everything they were saying but you got the gist from the expressions plastered across their faces. One of irritation and the other of nervousness. Nine times out of ten Daisuke accidentally messed something up with his overzealous nature once again.

You rose the mop blindly, plunging it into the water just when the man glanced over at you. You spotted a little crinkle of his lips, his once nervous smile growing just a bit cheeky. You could only chuckle softly, lip quickly being bit to silence your laughter. The last thing you wanted to do was get on Swansea’s bad side as well.

Unfortunately, however, with your focus elsewhere you hadn’t even realized how rough you were being with the mop. Attempting to pull it out suddenly grew difficult the moment it got caught on the edge of the bucket, tipping it forward and soon falling.

Just in time for a certain co-captain to be walking by.

All color drained from your face as a loud swear fell from his lips. Your eyes settled onto the man, spotting the darker colored fabric of his uniform. Luckily there was no bleach in the bucket.

Jimmy glared down at his clothes before turning the harsh stare to you.

“Are you incapable of mopping or something?”

You swallowed harshly, gripping the handle of your mop nervously. “I—i’m sorry Jimmy, I..”

“You have the easiest job in this entire place and you still manage to find a way to fuck it up.”

You clammed shut instantly, watching his lips continue to move yet not hearing a thing. You felt raw and open under the harmful speech he uttered, forcing yourself to breathe as not to shed tears. You had done so well before keeping your head down near this man, escaping his radar as not to cause tension.

But of course, your luck ran out in this exact second.

“Useless fucking janitor..” Jimmy finished, walking off, shoes noticeably squeaking with each step. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your rapid heartbeat slow the moment he was out of earshot. Still, his words rung through your mind, clouding it and soon your vision.

You blinked rapidly, quickly moving to lift the bucket and clean up the mess you created.

All under the watchful eye of a certain someone.

“Hey, what are you listening to?”

Your eyes slowly rose from the floor of your room, drifting over to the young man currently occupying space in the doorway. His lips were curled into a little smile, tapping his fingers against the entryway for a moment before stepping inside fully— the door sliding behind him.

You shrugged a little, waving your i-pod lazily. “Some random song.” You mumbled back, attention going back to the floor as drums and singing filled your ears. Usually you were up for conversation, loving to go on tangents about the music blasting in your ears. Through your talks, it felt as if you were still connecting to your home back on Earth.

Earth.. oh how you wished to go home. Away from that god forsaken co-captain that just loved to ruin another’s day. It’s not like it’s your fault his life is so shitty. He shouldn’t take it out on you or anyone else for that matter.

Stewing in your anger, you hadn’t notice Daisuke come even closer until he was standing right beside you. In a split moment he was dropping to sit beside you, knee grazing your own as he crossed his legs.

“Mind if I listen?”

You thumbed the circle button of the little device, lips pursed stubbornly. No, you can’t listen. I rather stew and rewind that complete embarrassment of a lecture I received hours ago. Was your first thought, ready to leave your tongue as your eyes darted over to the other.

Except you couldn’t. Not when he was smiling like that, so sweetly; eyes crinkled and pretty lips curled. You swallowed silently, a shaky hand lifting to the earbud closest to him and extending it towards the other. His fingers grazed your own as he grabbed the bud gently, coming just a bit closer to you as he tucked the bud into his ear.

Daisuke’s head went slack, hands falling to his lap as the music ran through his ear. It’s been a while since he heard good music like this. Not the typical instrumentals Swansea played — albeit rarely — when they were working. No, this was perfect. A nice reminder to what he has back home.

“Let me ask, do you listen to this music when you’re cleaning up?”

You nodded slowly, moving a bit uncomfortably whilst leaning back into your bed. “Yeah.. I can clean without music but ya know, I prefer it.”

“I get what you mean. Helps you stay focused doesn’t it?”

Daisuke peeked at you, causing your mouth to run dry; deciding just to nod. A silence entered the room shortly after, the two of you simply listening to your music; your lips slowly moving to mouth the lyrics. Within the second chorus of the song, was when Daisuke spoke again.

“What Jimmy said earlier..”

You shook your head, “Daisuke, you don’t have to say anything. I’m not a child, I don’t need to be consoled after being lectured.” You said cynically, eyebrows furrowing just a little as you glanced at anything but him.

But, the young man didn’t let up. Daisuke gently begun again;

“I’m not consoling you. Just.. reminding you how cool you are.”

You snorted at his words, eyes finally stealing away from the floor to glance at him. “You being funny?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. You watched, in a rather annoyed manner, as the man shook his head— with enough force his earbud slid a bit, causing him to quickly adjust it.

Despite his assurance, you weren’t convinced.. at all.

“I’m a janitor, Daisuke. I highly doubt that’s cool.”

You watched as his eyes rolled, furthering your minor irritation and confusion.

“You’re a janitor.. yeah— but think about it!” Daisuke hummed, flashing another one of his perfect smiles. “Without you this ship would be filthy, smell bad, and maybe even dusty. Terrible conditions for someone to work or live in.”

You glanced away, struggling to keep your lips in a neutral position. “Anyone can clean, Daisuke.”

“Yeah but you’re the one doing it. Not me, Curly, Anya, Swansea— or Jimmy. You are..”

You shivered as you felt gentle fingers on the back of your hand, causing your eyes to blink back to the other occupying the space beside you. Drifting from that sweet smile down to your hand, you noticed his fingers gently tracing your knuckles for a moment. The feeling was.. pleasant, intimate— enough that a heat of warmth flushed from your chest all the way to your cheeks.

“—You’re just as important as anyone else on this ship.” Daisuke hummed, stealing your attention back to his words. With ease the man was curling his fingers around your hand, turning it over to then link his digits with your own.

“At least I think so. And..”

This time Daisuke leaned close, lips just a breath’s away from your ear. “Whatever you splashed on Jimmy just made him smell.. wayyy better.”

You snorted, now all smiles and teeth as laughter escaped you. Your own pleasant sounds mixed with his, the two of you bumping into each other in the midst of your joy. You hadn’t even noticed the squeeze he was giving to your hand, nor the way your head was practically leaning onto his shoulder.

Moments of this bliss passed before you two could slowly settle down, realization of your current positions quickly dawning on you. Your eyes drifted to the hold resting on your lap, the cool sliver ring he wore rubbing against your heated skin. Your eyes rose from the hold and over to the man beside you, spotting him already looking at you.

Again, that same warmth overtook you— the same warmth that has been doing so for months; every time you looked at this bundle of sunshine. Your lips curled in onto themself, struggling to keep eye contact as nothing seemed to swirl in the eyes staring back at you.

Only when they suddenly flicked to your lips did you get even an inkling of what he wanted. Luckily, the feeling was definitely mutual.

Squeezing his hand, you moved closer— Daisuke meeting your advance and pressing his lips to your own. The kiss was slow, full of uncertainty yet passionate enough that same bliss trickled throughout your entire body. His thumb circled your skin, whilst his other hand reached over to gently grab your arm.

Moments passed before the two of you were satisfied, or more like out of breath; pulling away as your chests rose and fell in tandem. Your head lowered to rest against his shoulder, smiling to yourself as his warmth and your music consumed you.

“So uh.. does this mean we’re… together?”

You chuckled softly, turning to stamp a kiss against his neck, feeling him shiver.

“Yes Daisuke.”

[memorabxlia]

The Secret Idol ━ 아이엔

genre: fluff summary: It was a great feeling to know that he felt comfortable enough to share his biggest secret with you warnings: none I can think of pairing: idol!jeongin x fem!reader wc: 1.3k a/n: repost nets: @blossomnet

You strolled through the park, your mind lost in a tangle of thoughts and worries. The gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant murmur of laughter. But amidst the tranquility of the park, a soft melody drifted through the air, beckoning her closer.

Intrigued, you followed the sound until you came upon a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a towering oak tree. There, you found a young man with a guitar cradled in his arms, his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced ease. His voice, soft and soulful, filled the air with an enchanting allure, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

Mesmerized, you approached cautiously, not wanting to disrupt the serene atmosphere that surrounded him. You settled onto an adjacent bench, content to simply listen and absorb the music that seemed to emanate from his very soul.

As the melody continued to weave its spell, the young man glanced up, his eyes meeting yours with a warm, inviting gaze. Without a word, he continued to play, his voice joining the guitar in perfect harmony. His lyrics were like poetry, painting vivid pictures in your mind and stirring emotions you had long kept buried.

Time seemed to stand still as you sat there, lost in the music and the moment. The worries that had weighed so heavily on your mind melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment you hadn't felt in ages.

Eventually, the song came to an end, the final notes hanging in the air like a lingering echo. You found yourself holding your breath, not wanting to break the spell that had enveloped you both.

The young man set aside his guitar and turned to face you fully, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I hope you enjoyed the music," he said, his voice soft and gentle.

You nodded, unable to find your voice just yet. You was still caught up in the magic of the moment, the music still echoing in your ears and your heart.

"I'm glad," the young man replied, his smile widening. "It's not often I find someone who appreciates the beauty of a melody as much as you seem to."

You finally found your voice, though it was little more than a whisper. "Thank you," you said, your words carrying a depth of emotion you hadn't realized was there. "Your music…it touched something deep inside me."

The young man's smile grew even brighter, and he reached out a hand, offering it to you. "I'm glad I could bring a little joy into your day," he said. "My name's Jeongin, by the way."

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm Y/N," you replied, returning his smile with one of your own.

For a moment, you both simply sat there, hands clasped and smiles shared, the world around you fading into the background. It was as if you were the only two people in the park, cocooned in your own little bubble of music and magic.

But eventually, the spell had to be broken. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled your hand away, though you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from Jeongin's.

"I should probably be going," you said, your voice tinged with regret.

Jeongin nodded, though his smile never faltered. "I understand," he said. "But perhaps we'll meet again someday."

You nodded, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest. "I'd like that," you said, rising from the bench and gathering your things. As you turned to leave, you glanced back at Jeongin one last time, committing the memory of him and his music to your heart.

And as you walked away, the gentle melody of his guitar followed you, a reminder of the fleeting but beautiful encounter you had shared with the mysterious young man in the park.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself returning to the park more often than you ever had before. Each time, you hoped to catch another glimpse of Jeongin and his mesmerizing music. And more often than not, your wish was granted.

Your encounters became more frequent, and before long, you were spending countless hours together, sharing laughter, secrets, and dreams. You discovered that Jeongin was not just a talented musician, but also a kind-hearted soul with a passion for life.

You talked about everything and nothing, your conversations flowing effortlessly from one topic to the next. From your favorite books and movies to your hopes and aspirations, there was no subject too trivial or too profound for you to explore together.

As you grew closer, you couldn't help but admire Jeongin's gentle nature, his intelligence, and his unwavering determination. He had a way of seeing the beauty in the world, even in the darkest of times, and his optimism was infectious.

One evening, as you sat beneath the twinkling stars, Jeongin turned to you with a hesitant smile. "There's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Your heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight of his words before he even spoke them. "What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ground. "My name isn't actually Jeongin," he confessed. "It's…It's I.N."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "I.N?" you repeated, trying to make sense of the sudden revelation.

Jeongin nodded, his eyes shining with vulnerability. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It's…a nickname. It's what everyone calls me."

Realization dawned on you, and you felt a rush of understanding flood through you. "Wait," you said, your eyes widening in surprise. "Are you…are you a member of Stray Kids?"

Jeongin's eyes widened in shock, his gaze darting up to meet yours. "How did you…?" he began, but his voice trailed off as he realized the truth was already written on your face.

You couldn't help but smile at his reaction, though you could sense the underlying tension in the air. "I'm a fan," you admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment color your cheeks. "I've followed your group since your debut."

Jeongin seemed to relax slightly at your confession, though the tension didn't completely dissipate. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I wanted to, but…I couldn't risk it."

You reached out a comforting hand, gently squeezing his shoulder. "It's okay," you said softly. "I understand. Your safety comes first."

Jeongin nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "It means a lot to me that you're so understanding."

You sat in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air between you both. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the realization that the young musician you had encountered in the park was actually a member of one of the biggest idol groups in the industry.

Eventually, Jeongin broke the silence, his voice hesitant but determined. "I wanted to tell you because…I trust you," he said, his gaze meeting your with unwavering sincerity. "And it feels good to finally be able to share this part of my life with someone outside of my group."

You felt a surge of warmth fill your chest at his words, touched by the depth of trust he was placing in you. "I'm honored," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Truly."

As you both sat there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you couldn't help but marvel at the twist of fate that had brought you together. What had started as a chance encounter in the park had blossomed into something far more meaningful—a bond forged through music, trust, and shared secrets.

And as you sat there, lost in conversation and the quiet beauty of the park, You couldn't help but feel grateful for the serendipitous moment that had brought I.N into your life.

[slytherinzz]

Right time, wrong moment

Summary: Sebastian and MC share an undeniable electric connection that grows more intense over time. Their flirtation escalates, culminating in a passionate kiss at a Slytherin party. However, when things almost progress further, Sebastian hesitates, unwilling to risk their relationship in a reckless moment fueled by Firewiskey and desire.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!reader

Warnings: slight hint of sexual acitivities: aged up characters ofcourse! Mentions of Alcohol.

A/n: I hope everyone is enjoying this fics as much as I do :) Would love to get back to requests, so if you have a great idea, let me know!

There was always something electric between Sebastian and MC. It was subtle at first, in the way his eyes lingered a bit too long on hers or how he always found a reason to sit closer to her than necessary. Over time, though, the flirting had grown bolder.

“Don’t tell me you’re struggling with this potion, MC,” Sebastian teased one day during Potions class, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “If you need help, I’d be happy to assist… for a kiss.”

MC’s cheeks flamed, and she struggled not to knock over her cauldron. “Sebastian!”

“What?” he said, grinning. “Just a fair trade.”

Ominous, sitting on the other side of the table, groaned audibly. “Merlin, will you two stop? The rest of us are trying to focus on actual potion-making, not this absurd courtship.”

MC shot Ominous a glare, but Sebastian only laughed. “Courtship, huh? I like the sound of that.”

It wasn’t just in classes. In the library, he’d slide her books closer to her with a casual touch, his fingers brushing hers. On the way to the Great Hall, he’d lean closer than necessary to whisper some cheeky remark that made her pulse race.

It was maddening.

What frustrated her the most was that she didn’t know if it meant anything. Sebastian had always been charming—too charming. Girls still watched him from across the common room, hoping for his attention, though he hadn’t shown interest in anyone since their fifth year. That didn’t stop her from wondering if she was just another game to him.

When MC heard about the Slytherin party, she almost declined. It wasn’t really her scene—loud music, flowing Firewhiskey, and far too many students crammed into the common room. But Anne had encouraged her to go, and Ominis had promised to keep an eye out for trouble.

And Sebastian? Well, Sebastian had grinned and said, “You’re coming, right? Wouldn’t be a party without you.”

She couldn’t say no to that.

The Slytherin common room was alive with music and chatter when she arrived. The dark, moody lighting was offset by green and silver decorations, and students were already laughing and drinking in groups.

MC found herself with a glass of Firewhiskey in hand not long after, chatting with Poppy and Natty near the fireplace. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the warmth spreading through her chest and the laughter all around her helped her relax.

It wasn’t long before Sebastian found her.

“You’re hiding,” he accused, leaning against the wall beside her.

“I’m not hiding,” she said, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“You are,” he insisted, stepping closer. His voice dropped, playful and intimate. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll drag you into something you’ll enjoy too much?”

Her heart skipped a beat. He was too close, his eyes too intent on hers.

“Maybe I’m just avoiding trouble,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Trouble?” he repeated, his smirk widening. “Oh, MC. You are trouble.”

Before she could retort, someone turned the music louder, and the crowd surged around them. Sebastian grabbed her hand, pulling her toward a quieter corner near the stairs to the dormitories.

It was quieter there, though the music and laughter still hummed in the background.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing. “You are?”

“Of course,” he said, his gaze flickering to her lips. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

The Firewhiskey in her system made her bolder, braver. “You say that to all the girls?” she asked, trying to sound teasing but feeling vulnerable.

His expression shifted, the playful smirk softening into something deeper. “No,” he said simply.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years. Her back hit the wall as his hands cupped her face, and she kissed him back just as fiercely, her fingers tangling in his hair.

All the tension between them, all the lingering touches and unspoken words, exploded in that kiss. She barely noticed the noise of the party anymore. It was just him—Sebastian, warm and intoxicating and everything she’d ever wanted.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, and she gasped softly against his lips. The sound seemed to embolden him, his fingers tracing the curve of her hips. Her heart pounded as her own hands roamed up his chest, his shirt warm and slightly rumpled beneath her touch.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Come with me.”

Her breath hitched. “To where?”

“My dorm,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the way he looked at her—with a mix of longing and something close to reverence—made her nod.

The walk to his dorm was a blur. They were both unsteady on their feet, the Firewhiskey and the adrenaline making them clumsy. But when they reached his room and the door shut behind them, the world seemed to slow down.

Sebastian kissed her again, softer this time, his hands tracing the curve of her waist. She melted into him, her heart racing.

His lips traveled down her jaw, to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, and she shivered. His hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, the heat of his palms against her skin sending sparks through her veins.

“Sebastian,” she whispered, her voice breathless.

He froze for just a moment before pulling back, his forehead resting against hers. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said, her hands gripping his shoulders.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he kissed her again, deeper, his hands roaming her sides. But then he stilled, his breathing heavy, and he pulled away entirely.

“MC,” he said, his voice shaking. “We can’t.”

Her heart dropped. “What do you mean?”

“I want you,” he said, his words rushing out. “Merlin, I want you more than anything. But not like this. Not when we’ve both been drinking. Not when you might regret it in the morning.”

Her chest tightened, embarrassment and hurt flooding her. “You think I’d regret it?”

“No,” he said quickly, his hands trembling as he cupped her face. “I mean… maybe. I don’t know. But I couldn’t live with myself if you did.” He closed his eyes, his voice breaking. “You mean too much to me, MC. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long. But not like this. I want to remember every second. I want it to be… perfect.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she nodded stiffly. “I… I understand.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but she turned and left before he could stop her.

MC woke up with a headache and a heartache that no amount of Pepperup Potion could cure.

Sebastian avoided her at breakfast, which only made the knot in her chest tighten. She couldn’t stop replaying the night in her head—the kiss, the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d stopped.

Ominis found her in the library later that day, his expression unreadable as he sat across from her.

“Sebastian’s been sulking,” he said bluntly.

She flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do,” he said, his tone sharper now. “He cares about you, MC. More than he’s ever cared about anyone. But he’s a bloody idiot, and he’s convinced himself he’s doing the noble thing., and I think he's right''

She looked down at her hands. “He stopped because he didn’t want me.”

“That’s not true,” Ominis said firmly. “He stopped because he wants you too much. He’s terrified of losing you.”

Her heart ached at his words, but doubt still lingered.

It wasn’t until later that evening, when she found Sebastian in the Undercroft, that everything came to a head.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He turned, his eyes wide with surprise. “MC—”

“Was I not good enough for you?” she demanded, her voice breaking.

“Merlin, no!” he said, crossing the room in two strides. “That’s not it at all. You’re… you’re everything to me. Don’t you see that?”

She stared at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Then why?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. “And I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to ruin us.”

Her breath caught. “You love me?”

“Yes,” he said,

Sebastian took a shaky step closer, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and vulnerability. “I love you, MC. I’ve loved you for years. And I was terrified that if we went through with it last night… like that… I’d hurt you, or you’d wake up and regret it, and I’d lose you forever.”

Her heart twisted painfully, the weight of his words sinking in. “I wouldn’t have regretted it,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I’ve been in love with you too, Sebastian. For so long. And last night… I thought maybe, finally, you felt the same way.”

He closed his eyes as if her words physically hurt him. “I do. I’ve always felt that way. But I didn’t want our first time together to be because of Firewhiskey and a reckless moment. You deserve more than that. You deserve everything.”

She reached for him, her fingers brushing against his. “And what if all I want is you?”

He let out a ragged breath, his hands shaking as he took hers in his. “Then I promise, I’ll give you all of me. But when it happens… when we happen. I want to remember every second, every look, every touch. I want it to be perfect because you’re perfect to me.”

Her tears spilled over, but this time they weren’t from pain. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands settled hesitantly on her waist. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured against his shoulder, her voice breaking into a watery laugh.

He laughed softly, the sound tinged with relief. “I probably deserve that.”

They stood there in the quiet warmth of the Undercroft, holding each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The days that followed were nothing short of transformative. The awkwardness was gone, replaced by a newfound closeness that neither of them had known they were capable of. Sebastian was careful, deliberate in his affection. His touches lingered longer, his kisses softer but filled with unspoken promises.

They spent evenings in the Undercroft, talking about everything and nothing. He’d bring her flowers he charmed to glow faintly in the dark, and she’d tease him about being sappy, though her smile gave her away every time.

And when they finally decided to take the next step, it wasn’t rushed or tinged with doubt. It was slow, intimate, and everything Sebastian had wanted for them.

He made good on his promise, memorizing every detail of her, every sound she made, every look she gave him. And when it was over, he held her close, whispering against her skin, “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

For the first time in years, MC felt whole.

They weren’t perfect—neither of them was—but they were perfect for each other. And as they lay entwined in the quiet of the Room of Requirement, the world outside felt a little less daunting, a little less heavy, because they had each other.

And that was everything.

[hrrtshape]

✶ CR ACTIVITIES...IN MY FAME DR !

𖥻 EATING A PB&J WHILE WATCHING YOUTUBE.

CR. just little old me, sprawled on the couch, maybe wearing sweats.

FAME DR. eating a fancy almond butter and artisanal strawberry preserve sandwich, plated on fine china, while lounging in a silk robe in my parisian apartment. not watching youtube—i'm streaming my own vogue "73 questions" interview. because....ego !

𖥻 SCROLLING THROUGH INSTAGRAM BEFORE BED.

CR. in my messy, messy bed, probably overthinking for what i'm doing tomorrow.

FAME DR. lying in my ownnn custom hermès bedding (because, of course), wearing a matching silk pyjama set, scrolling through my own verified account filled with vogue covers and film stills. double-tapping a post of myself from a fan accounts, giggling all the while.

𖥻 DOING LAUNDRY.

CR. shoving it all into the washer, praying the reds don’t bleed.

FAME DR. hand-washing my delicate couture pieces in a massive clawfoot tub while a french song plays softly in the background.

𖥻 PROCRASTINATING.

CR. watching tiktoks instead of starting that one thing i should..

FAME DR. sitting at my vintage writer’s desk in my paris apartment, "procrastinating" by flipping through a leather-bound screenplay that i wrote—which just got green-lit by A24.

𖥻 HANGING OUT WITH FRIENDS.

CR: ordering pizza and bingeing netflix.

FAME DR. hosting a private dinner party in a cozy yet glamorous setting (think candlelit, with fairy lights in the garden). everyone’s gossiping and drinking champagne.

𖥻 TAKING A NAP.

CR. passed out with my blanket half-off and drool everywhere.

FAME DR. napping in my airy, sunlit bedroom with sheer curtains blowing in the breeze. curled up in an oversized cashmere sweater, and there’s a faint trace of jo malone perfume on my pillowcase.

𖥻 GOING TO A COFFEE SHOP.

CR. waiting in line, wearing sweatpants, and awkwardly asking for soy milk (because most times i get a "sorry, we don't have that......").

FAME DR. a barista hands me a custom drink without even asking because they know me. sitting outside in oversized sunglasses and casually scribbling notes for my next project on a leather journal. paparazzi snap a photo, but it’s chic and candid.

𖥻 LISTENING TO MUSIC WHILE WALKING.

CR. wired headphones in, pretending i'm in a music video.

FAME DR. my actual song is playing through my wired headphones as i walk through a dreamy park. fans shyly wave from afar while i flash a kind smile.

𖥻 PAINTING MY NAILS.

CR. probably smudging one finger and then giving up halfway.

FAME DR. sitting at my vanity in a dior silk dressing gown while a professional manicurist perfects my nails. the colour? a limited-edition shade inspired by me. of course.

𖥻 GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE.

CR. grabbing snacks in the clearance aisle.

FAME DR. strolling through a farmer’s market in a wide-brimmed hat and chanel flats, filling a wicker basket with fresh baguettes, organic strawberries, and peonies.

𖥻 BRUSHING MY TEETH.

CR. hurriedly brushing in the bathroom while checking my phone to pass the time.

FAME DR. standing in my marble bathroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the seine. luxurious rosewater-infused toothpaste and finish with a diamond-shaped water flosser because dental aaaaestheeeeeetic.

𖥻 TAKING A SHOWER.

CR. standing under the hot water for too long, zoning out, and thinking about that one embarrassing thing from three years ago.

FAME DR. stepping into a rainfall shower with a mosaic-tiled backdrop, using exclusively la mer products while edith piaf plays softly.

𖥻 EATING TAKEOUT.

CR. digging into soggy fries while balancing the box on my knees.

FAME DR. enjoying truffle fries and a gourmet burger from a michelin-starred restaurant while sitting on the terrace of my apartment. there's a bottle of vintage wine opened, but i keep it casual because i’m quirky like that.

𖥻 WAKING UP LATE.

CR. scrambling out of bed and throwing on whatever’s clean, probably forgetting breakfast.

FAME DR. slowly waking up as sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, stretching gracefully in my egyptian cotton sheets. breakfast is a fresh croissant, figs, and honey, delivered on a silver tray by my discreet house staff.

𖥻 DOING A FACE MASK.

CR. slapping on a sheet mask, lying down, and hoping my skin glows afterward.

FAME DR. reclining in my velvet chaise lounge with a gold-infused mask designed by dior skincare. a vogue journalist just happens to be on-call, asking about my beauty secrets. just happens.......just.

𖥻 TEXTING MY BESTIE.

CR. spamming them with memes and ranting about life.

FAME DR. facetiming them while lounging on my balcony. they’re not just my bestie—they’re an up-and-coming filmmaker i discovered. we’re laughing about how the tabloids call us “hollywood’s dynamic duo.”

𖥻 PLANNING OUTFITS.

CR. throwing clothes on the bed, hating everything, and settling for something basic.

FAME DR. standing in my walk-in closet as my stylist holds up options, all of them custom-made. i mix vintage chanel with fresh-off-the-runway chloé.

𖥻 GETTING BORED.

CR. scrolling on my phone, thinking about how to pass the time.

FAME DR. getting bored but beautifully. i decide to take an impromptu trip to the french countryside with my journal and a camera, where i sketch ideas for my next oscar-winning screenplay.

𖥻 BINGE-WATCHING A SHOW.

CR. marathon-ing netflix (which i definitely didn't pirate..) in bed with snacks I don’t want to admit eating.

FAME DR. bingeing my own critically-acclaimed series with a charcuterie board in front of my gilded fireplace. my cat lounges beside me while I take notes because i’m that dedicated to my craft.

𖥻 GETTING DRESSED.

CR. throwing on the same jeans and sweatshirt i wore two days ago.

FAME DR. slipping into a tailored yves saint laurent pantsuit for a “casual coffee run.” but let’s be real—it’s a paparazzi goldmine.

[ddongtsan]

Things they would do in a relationship

Note: I made them all according to each personality and how I think they would be.

Warning: Contains no warnings, fluff.

Sungho

Sungho would love to express his feelings through writing, creating letters filled with affection, deep thoughts, and sincere compliments. He might leave one of these letters unexpectedly in a special place for his loved one to find, as a touching surprise.

He would cherish spending quality time together, perhaps on a calm night at home, cooking his partner’s favorite dish, just to enjoy a quiet meal and talk about their dreams and feelings. The conversation would be gentle and full of attentive listening, creating a safe and welcoming space.

In casual moments, he might gently hold his partner’s hand or give a tight hug for no particular reason, just to show how much the person means to him. These simple but meaningful gestures would be his way of expressing love without hurry or pressure.

Sungho could plan surprise trips or small escapes to peaceful places, where he and his partner could relax and enjoy each other’s company without distractions. He would focus on creating an intimate experience for connection.

He would likely care deeply about his loved one’s emotional and physical well-being. If his partner were tired or going through a tough time, he might prepare a relaxing bath, a calming playlist, or even offer to give a soothing massage, showing that he is there to take care of every detail for the person he loves.

Riwoo

Riwoo would have the habit of writing letters or notes by hand, describing the moments he loves most with his partner. He would include details only they would know, showing how much he pays attention to the little things.

With his passion for music, Riwoo would create carefully curated playlists with songs that capture his feelings for his partner. He would include tracks that remind him of special moments or reflect what he cannot express with words alone.

Romantic by nature, Riwoo would organize simple and intimate dates, such as stargazing together while lying on a blanket. He would use these moments to talk about dreams and deeper feelings.

Instead of generic presents, he would dedicate himself to creating something unique and meaningful, like a memory album with photos, movie tickets, or notes about memorable moments in the relationship, showing how much he values their time together.

Riwoo would love to prepare a surprise dinner or breakfast at home, creating a cozy atmosphere with candles and soft music in the background. He would make sure to include his partner's favorite dishes, highlighting his care and affection.

Jaehyun

Jaehyun would leave small notes or messages with affectionate words scattered around the house or inside everyday objects, like in a favorite mug or the pocket of a jacket. Each message would be a reminder of how much he cherishes his loved one.

Using his gentle voice, Jaehyun would sing a special or meaningful song to his partner, whether during quiet moments on the couch or under the stars at night. He would do this spontaneously, making the moment even more intimate and special.

Jaehyun would cherish simple moments, like preparing breakfast and serving it in bed while having a calm conversation about his partner’s dreams or what makes them happy. He would especially love doing this on rainy days, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Even without music, he would take his partner’s hand and dance with her in the living room or under the moonlight, savoring the intimacy of the moment and focusing solely on being close together.

Jaehyun would plan a surprise trip to a special location, whether it’s a destination his partner has mentioned loving or one he feels would be perfect for creating meaningful memories. He would take care of every detail to make sure it’s unforgettable.

Taesan

Taesan, being creative and expressive, would compose songs or lyrics specifically for his partner. He would include memorable moments from the relationship and feelings he might not be able to fully express in words.

He would have the habit of hugging his partner from behind while they talk or cook together. Taesan would value physical touch as a way to convey affection, always looking for small ways to show his love.

Taesan would likely enjoy taking photos or recording videos during casual moments, like a walk or a quiet night at home. He would create a sort of album or visual diary to revisit those moments together in the future.

He would be the type to pay attention to the little details, like folding a blanket when he notices his partner fell asleep on the couch or making a warm drink on a cold day. He would show love through these small, caring actions.

Taesan would love to spend calm moments with his partner, like listening to music while resting together or stargazing on a peaceful night. He would cherish these silent connections that strengthen intimacy and create a sense of mutual comfort.

Leehan

Leehan would likely prepare thoughtful and personalized surprises, such as a candlelit dinner with dishes his loved one would adore, or an impromptu picnic at both of their favorite spots. He would love to create unique moments that reflect the tastes and personality of the other person.

In a world of instant messages, Leehan would write handwritten letters or romantic notes, where he would express his deepest emotions and sincere feelings. He might hide these notes in unexpected places, like inside books or pockets, giving his partner the chance to find them as a surprise.

Would express his love through gentle, quiet gestures, such as simply staying by his loved one's side while they read, study, or do something they enjoy, providing comfort and presence without needing words. He might also give massages or bring tea when he senses the other person needs to relax.

Even without a special occasion, Leehan would love to play soft music and dance with his loved one, creating an intimate and relaxed moment where their connection would be the main priority. This would show him the importance of touch and emotional closeness.

He would love to plan simple but meaningful trips or getaways to quiet places, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Would choose destinations that would allow the couple to reconnect and enjoy each other's company, whether it’s a cabin in the mountains or a charming little town, away from everything.

Woonhak

Woonhak would love to plan small surprises based on his partner’s preferences. He might leave romantic notes or prepare a special dinner with the partner’s favorite dishes, just to show that he pays attention to the little details.

He would be very attentive when listening to his partner, taking the time to be fully present during conversations, without distractions. This shows that he deeply cares about his partner's feelings and thoughts.

Woonhak would make a point of offering comfort through simple gestures, such as tight hugs or holding hands in moments of need. He would use these touches to create a sense of security and intimacy.

In a relationship, Woonhak would make sure his partner feels loved through everyday gestures. He might prepare breakfast or lay out clothes for the partner, making daily routines more pleasant and shared.

He wouldn’t be afraid to be vulnerable, sharing his deepest feelings and insecurities. This would create a safe space for the partner to open up as well, strengthening the emotional bond between them.

[litnerdwrites]

This reminds me of a video I watched by Rachel Oates, called 'How much does intent matter in Art?' that covers this nicely. She discusses a theory I learned about in Media studies called 'the medium is the message', by Marshall McLuhan, which, suggests, to put simply, that art or media (including books) are encoded with messages, and views, even if you don't realise it, and when the audience consumes them, they decode it, and perceive it. While she doesn't mention SJM or her books, applying the theory to poetry to try and educate people about intention and outcome in art.

Rachel basically explains (better than me, since I'll keep it short for brevity) that if an artist, of any kind, hones and utilises the techniques and skills that come with their craft well, then the audience perceives the message as intended. However, if they utilise their techniques poorly, then the audience will intemperate a different message.

You can still like it, enjoy it, or say you personally think it's really good, because art is inherently subjective, but searching for techniques and their utilisation in art is how a critique critiques them. It's why critique review and audience review of movies and tv shows differ. A critique rates it based on cinematography, writing, directing, and a other factors that may very depending on if it's a tv show, live action animation, etc. Meanwhile audiences rate it on entertainment, relatability, and how impactful it is, etc.

Of course, objective critiques can be argued, with evidence. One person could take a quote from any of the ACOTAR books and use it to argue why ACOTAR is a feminist story, while someone else could take a different, or even the same quote, and argue otherwise, with the artist's intention becoming irrelevant.

Rachel, also explains, art needs to be able to stand on it's own, without needing background about the artist or other context, for it to have meaning or to affect people, to which I agree. Especially in this context.

Take the hike scene. SJM intended it for it to be therapeutic, and healing for Nesta, while others, myself included, argue that it was poorly written at best, and example of abuse at worst. Often, people use SJM's real life hike to argue this point. However, if that context is needed for the scene to stand, then it was't well executed. At best it show's SJM's lack of skill, and usage of structure, plot and techniques, with a lack of true understanding of depression, and the state of mind people are in when they consider taking their own life, and at worst, it shows a very dangerous mindset surrounding the aforementioned subjects.

The point Rachel ultimately makes, is that intention doesn't matter if art, including literature, is offensive, or harmful.

If SJM failed to send the feminist message her books were advertised for having, then her intent doesn't amount to much. If someone is offended by your art, or criticises it for the way it handles certain subject matter, then that reflects a lack of skill on the author's part, at best. At worst, it reflects dangerous ideals and mindsets.

It's also important to understand that many people have different upbringings, and life experiences, which is another reason that there are such different interpretations of art. Every character in her books have said or done things worthy of criticism, some more than others. SJM has said, done and written things that need to be criticised, her handling of race, colonisation and slavery, to name a couple, outside of just how she botched feminism and abuse.

There are victims who relate to Feyre, Mor, Rhys, etc. There are victims who relate more to Nesta, Tamlin, Eris, etc. There are victims who condemn SJM's books and characters in their entirety. There are people, who aren't victims, that relate to Azriel, Emerie, Elain, tc. There are people, who aren't victims, that relate to Viviane, Tarquin, Gwyn, etc. There are people, who aren't victims, that condemn SJM and her writing in their entirety.

However, if SJM is called out for offending people, be it marginalised communities, women in general, or victims, then it's worth apologising, reevaluating why and trying to improve her craft to prevent doing so again. Also, editors and sensitivity readers wouldn't go amis, especially in stories that try to use themes of slavery, racial and gendered discrimination.

To wrap this up, SJM's intent doesn't matter. If people are offended, she needs to take accountability, apologise, and try to do better next time. Given her consistent failure to use incorporate race and slavery into her books in a way that handles the topics with the respect they deserve, I'd say she's failed on all three fronts there. In fact, it become clear that racial and queer representation are half-assed just to give her plausible deniability. If people like it, she can take the credit, if not she can deny it.

Ultimately, art is subjective. Just because she receives criticism, doesn't mean you have to hate it. You're free to have your opinions, but don't be rude, cruel, or otherwise bully others for theirs.

If you're going to try have a discussion with me about these books then I need you to bare in mind that I base absolutely none of my opinions or analyses on SJMs intentions

I have 0 faith that that woman even recognizes the absolutely horrid things she has written nevermind that she intends to actually go into much depth with any of it (Rhysand's abuse, the IC dynamics, the terrible ruling system, retcon retcon retcon for days, the Illyrians, Nesta etc). And people can say that's misogynistic if they want, I do not care. She has shown absolutely no evidence that she doesn't have her head completely encased by the Inner Circles asses or that that and her inability to self insert hasn't completely skewed the way she writes this series so sue me. I don't even believe she fully understands the characters she has written, it's as if she has written so much retconning and gaslighting behaviour in this story that she's somehow managed to gaslight herself at this stage

So anyway my opinions and my interpretations of the characters are based on their actions in the text not what SJM intended for them to convey or whatever bullshit she has the IC spout and if that's what you like to follow that's fine but go be a sheep somewhere else because I won't engage with it I'm sorry (not really)

[fruit-of-the-kaisarion]

Happy Thanksgiving! This isn't one of my usual posts but I'd just like to come on here to say...

Thank you everybody who has followed me so far, thank you Ghumblr, and thank you Ghost.

I cannot thank you all enough for the support thats been given, I am truly thankful for all the likes, reblogs, and follows you all have given me. You all have been so friendly, and I enjoy the silly comments left on the reblogs :)

I also thank Ghost as a whole as well, their content/music has gotten me through some major ups and downs and scary events (I'll admit it right here, I came out to my parents while Square Hammer played in the background). Without them, I wouldn't be here.

I am grateful for you all. Thank you, and I'm excited to see the progression of this blog in the future. (Maybe I'll have an intro one day..)

<3