so

writer & 18

[themercifulwriter]

would you hear me more if I touch you right here made everything I want sound like, "ah, ah" (oh)

would you hear me more if I whispered in your ear made all my inner thoughts sound like, "ah, ah"

so — she/her, 18, yearner, kpop <3

slow blog updates, men & minors dni.

[ipod-aeri]

a too much information

a/n. started as a random ramble from a very drowsy me, ended with whatever this is. not proofread of course lol, i throw out random words. also it kinda ended when it starting to get good so.

would you guys believe me if i say i just came twice from imagining giselle fucking me in this outfit while talking down on me like, ”what? you want to cum? no baby, mommy said to hold it because you were such a bad girl today...” with that cooing tone. LIKE IMAGINE, sugar-mommy!giselle coming home from some tiring meeting and finding her apartment messy because you just had to try on the clothes for tomorrow's date in the living room. giselle immediately snapping at you because she's had a long day, ”what the fuck is wrong with you? didn't i tell you to not leave clothes anywhere near the kitchen or living room?” earning spanks from mommy giselle yay💗

”count.” you hastily nodded with eyes dwelling in tears because mommy giselle is scary when her patience run out🥺. whimpering like a puppy the whole time, giselle only stopping at 100—when your buttcheeks are flaming red. ”now, strip.” still with the same tone, you obeyed.

”on your knees, princess.” you LOVE being degraded while still being called princess, it's just the perfect combination. anyway, that's all for tonight because i'm getting drowsy from the orgasm........

[minisoae]

it’s opposite week people @themercifulwriter

[themercifulwriter]

yeah now give her back 🙁

[minisoae]

okay give me jimin back…

[themercifulwriter]

okay here she is

[minisoae]

it’s opposite week people @themercifulwriter

[themercifulwriter]

yeah now give her back 🙁

[cumonangelxo]

no panties to bed in case u get hungry at night

[minisoae]

can we talk about how much wintummy we’ve gotten this comeback? i’m still drooling.

[themercifulwriter]

gf reveal

[minisoae]

CAN’T HELP MYSELF

shinchan blind box— winter x fem!reader

before unboxing— smut, fake dating, fingering, gay vagina sex (ty @ihugwinrina for dis), childhood friends to lovers, dirty talk, strong language, alcohol consumption, etc

notes from staff— finally coming back guys 😅 this has been in the drafts for weeks and it’s 12 am sorry if this is dook

you've known kim minjeong since you were seven years old.

back then, she was the quiet girl who sat in the corner of your second-grade classroom, the one with her nose always buried in a book during recess while the other kids played tag in the schoolyard. you'd approached her one spring afternoon because you'd forgotten your lunch and she was the only one who looked like she wouldn't laugh at you for it. instead, she'd silently split her gimbap in half and offered you the bigger piece without a word.

that was eighteen years ago, and somehow, you're still in each other's lives.

minjeong grew up to be beautiful in that understated way. the kind of pretty that sneaks up on people. sharp jawline, soft features, cute chubby cheeks, expressive eyes that crinkle when she smiles. she's always been on the quieter side, a little shy, a little reserved. but around you? she's different, comfortable, real.

she works as a freelance graphic designer now, which means she sets her own hours and spends most of her time in oversized hoodies, sitting in cafes with her macbook and an iced americano. you went into marketing, which is how you ended up at the same coffee shop in hongdae on a random tuesday afternoon when your life started to unravel just a little bit.

"you look stressed," minjeong said as she slid into the seat across from you, her curly hair pulled back into a messy half-updo. she was wearing a black leather jacket over a blue crop top, the outfit somehow both edgy and effortless.

you groaned, dropping your phone onto the table. "my cousin's wedding is in two weeks."

"okay?"

"and my mom won't stop asking if i'm bringing someone."

minjeong took a long sip of her coffee, eyebrows raised slightly. "well… are you?"

"no. obviously not. i haven't dated anyone in like a year." you rubbed your temples. "but she's convinced i'm going to show up alone and embarrass the family or whatever. she keeps trying to set me up with her friends' sons. it's a nightmare."

"so bring someone."

"who? all my friends are busy or already coupled up."

there was a pause.

minjeong tilted her head, studying you with those dark, thoughtful eyes. then she shrugged, so casual it almost seemed rehearsed. "i'll go with you."

you blinked. "what?"

"i said i'll go. pretend to be your girlfriend. it's not like i have anything else going on, and honestly?" she smiled a little, that rare flash of mischief crossing her face. "i'm kind of bored."

your heart did this stupid little flip in your chest, which was ridiculous because this was kim minjeong. your childhood best friend. the girl who once cried because she accidentally stepped on a snail. the girl who knew every embarrassing thing about you and still chose to stick around.

"you... you'd really do that?"

"yeah. why not?" she leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "besides, it might be fun. i've never been to a wedding as someone's fake girlfriend before."

"minjeong—"

"just say yes. you need a date, i need something to do. it's perfect."

and that's how you ended up here, two weeks later, standing outside the shilla hotel in seoul with minjeong beside you, looking absolutely devastating in a tailored black suit that hugged her frame in all the right places. her hair was styled in those loose curls you loved, tumbling past her shoulders. she'd done her makeup too— subtle but striking, with a hint of shimmer on her lids and a nude lip that made you stare a second too long.

"stop looking at me like that," she murmured, a faint blush creeping up her neck.

"like what?"

"like you're nervous. we're supposed to be dating, remember?"

right… dating. fake dating.

you took a breath and linked your arm through hers. her body was warm against yours, and you tried not to think about how natural it felt.

the wedding hall was gorgeous, all white flowers and golden accents, the kind of elegance that screamed old money. your relatives were already mingling, glasses of champagne in hand, and you could feel their eyes on you the second you walked in with minjeong.

"is that her?" your mom appeared almost instantly, her expression a mix of surprise and approval. "you didn't tell me you were seeing someone!"

"yeah, well... it's still pretty new," you said, feeling minjeong's hand settle on the small of your back.

"ah, hello, i'm kim minjeong," she said, bowing politely. her voice was soft, respectful. "it's nice to meet you, eomeoni."

your mom practically melted. "oh, she's so polite! and so pretty. how long have you two been together?"

"a few months," you lied smoothly, and minjeong nodded along, her thumb tracing idle circles against your spine through the fabric of your dress.

it should have felt wrong. it should have felt awkward.

instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

everything went smooth— the ceremony was beautiful, and you barely paid attention to it. you were too aware of minjeong sitting beside you, her thigh pressed against yours, her fingers occasionally brushing your hand where it rested on your lap, every touch felt deliberate, intentional.

during the reception, you were seated at a table with some of your cousins, all of whom were very interested in grilling minjeong about your relationship.

"so how did you two meet?" one of them asked.

"we've known each other since elementary school," minjeong said, smiling. "but we didn't start dating until recently."

"childhood friends to lovers? that's so cute!"

you felt your cheeks heat up, but minjeong just laughed, her hand finding yours under the table and squeezing gently.

later, after the toasts and the cake cutting, minjeong leaned close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"want to get out of here for a bit?"

your pulse quickened. "where?"

"our room. i need a break from all the questions."

you'd booked a suite at the hotel for the night. it seemed easier than driving back to seoul after the reception. the plan had been to just crash and deal with the aftermath of the fake dating ruse tomorrow.

but when minjeong looked at you like that, her eyes dark and unreadable, you found yourself nodding.

the hotel room was spacious, with a king-sized bed and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. minjeong kicked off her heels the second the door closed behind you, sighing in relief.

"thank god. those were killing me."

you laughed, setting your clutch on the dresser. "you did great today, by the way. so very convincing."

"yeah?" she turned to face you, and there was something different in her expression now. something bolder. "i had a good time. your family's really sweet."

"they loved you."

"and you?" she took a step closer. "did you love me?"

the question hung in the air between you, weighted with something unspoken. you just smiled and nodded.

"of course.”

"we should practice," she said suddenly.

"practice what?"

"kissing." her cheeks flushed, but she held your gaze. "i mean, we're supposed to be dating, right? what if someone expects us to kiss in public? we should make sure it looks real."

your mouth went dry. "you want to practice kissing..?”

"only if you want to." she bit her lip, nervous now, that shy side of her creeping back in. "we don't have to. i just thought—"

you cut her off before she could finish the sentence.

"i want to," you breathed, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them. "practice with me, minjeong."

her eyes darkened instantly, that shy nervousness melting into something hotter but still gentle. she stepped forward until your back hit the edge of the bed, her body pressing softly into yours.

"okay," she whispered, voice husky yet tender. "just practice."

but the moment her lips touched yours, it was anything but practice. the kiss was slow at first, tentative and sweet, her soft full lips moving gently against yours, tasting like the champagne from the reception. then you sighed into her mouth and she lost it just a little, her tongue sliding in shyly at first, then deeper, tasting you with quiet hunger, one hand tangling carefully in your hair while the other rested on your waist.

you moaned softly, hands fisting in her black suit jacket, pulling her closer. her wild curly hair tickled your cheeks as she tilted her head, kissing you harder, more desperately.

"ah," she gasped when you broke for air, her forehead resting against yours, a deep blush staining her cheeks. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that... is this okay?"

her hands started roaming, sliding down your sides, squeezing your ass through your dress with gentle firmness before slipping under the hem. her fingers traced up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties.

"you're already so wet," she murmured against your neck, nipping at the skin softly. "all from a little kissing? so pretty... you're doing so well for me."

she pushed you back onto the bed gently, crawling over you. her curls cascaded down around you like a curtain as she kissed you again, deeper this time, her touch still careful but in control. one hand pushed your dress up around your hips while the other tugged your panties aside.

two fingers slid through your soaked folds, circling your clit slowly before dipping lower. she pushed them inside you in one smooth thrust, curling them perfectly against that spot that made your back arch off the bed.

"minjeong— ah, fuck," you moaned, hips bucking up into her hand.

"shh, jagiya," she cooed softly, pumping her fingers faster, her thumb rubbing tight, gentle circles on your clit. "let me take care of you. been dreaming about how tight you'd feel around my fingers... it’s so good..."

she added a third finger, stretching you open deliciously, the wet, obscene sounds of her fingering your dripping cunt filling the hotel room. she was relentless but so soft, fucking you deep and steady, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking marks into your skin while her free hand pinned your wrist above your head with tender pressure.

"so tight for me," she groaned, voice low and filthy but laced with affection. "your pussy is sucking my fingers in so greedily, baby… does that feel good? tell me, jagi.”

you were a mess, whimpering and grinding down on her hand, chasing every thrust. the pleasure built fast and sharp, her thumb pressing harder on your clit as she curled her fingers just right, her eyes never leaving your face.

"cum for me," she whispered hotly in your ear, her voice shaking just a little with her own shyness. "wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my fingers. come on, let go for me... you can do it."

the orgasm hit you hard, walls fluttering and squeezing her fingers as pleasure crashed through you in waves. you cried out her name, thighs shaking around her wrist, soaking her hand and the sheets. she didn't stop, fucking you through it with slow, deep thrusts, whispering praises the whole time until you were trembling and oversensitive, whimpering into her mouth.

"that's it... such a good girl for me," she murmured, kissing your forehead softly as she finally slowed down.

she pulled her fingers out slowly, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean with a quiet moan, eyes locked on yours the whole time, her blush still burning bright.

"taste so fucking good," she groaned, licking every drop off. "i could eat you for hours... if you want me to."

but she wasn't done. the lines had blurred completely, and neither of you wanted to stop. you slipped out of the reception early, claiming tiredness. minjeong led you straight to the parking lot, her hand never leaving yours, her fingers laced with yours shyly.

"my car's waiting," she said, voice still husky from earlier, a soft smile on her lips.

you barely made it into the backseat of her sleek black mercedes with the deep tinted windows before she was on you again, pushing you down and crawling over you, straddling your lap with gentle confidence.

"need you again, please," she pleaded softly, unzipping your dress with impatient but careful hands, her own suit jacket and shirt shoved aside in a hurry.

the car smelled like her perfume, leather, and the faint trace of soju from the reception. she kissed you deep and messy, tongues tangling as her fingers returned between your legs, three this time, thrusting in with purpose, curling perfectly while her hips ground down against your thigh.

you tugged at her wild curls, arching up into her, moaning her name loudly now that you were alone.

"cum for me again," she demanded, voice hoarse and filthy but still so soft. "soak my fingers like the good girl you are for me, baby. let me feel how much you want this... you're doing so perfect, jagi."

you shattered hard around her fingers, soaking her hand and the leather seat, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

but you flipped her, laying her back against the seat, mouth latching onto her nipple while your fingers explored her soaked folds. she was dripping, moaning your name in that breathy, shy voice.

"please, deeper," she gasped, hips bucking wildly, her hands gentle in your hair. "fuck me harder, jagi, i need it... please be good to me too."

you slid three fingers inside her, curling against that spot, thumb circling her clit in rhythm. her thighs shook around you, one hand gripping your hair, the other scratching down your back lightly as she rode your hand desperately.

when she came, it was intense. body tensing then melting with a broken cry of your name, curls splayed wildly across the seat, necklaces tangled between you both.

afterward, you both lay tangled, breathing hard, her head on your chest in the quiet of her tinted mercedes, the seoul night wrapping around you.

"this wasn't fake," she murmured, tracing patterns on your skin, voice soft but certain even as her cheeks stayed pink. "hasn't been for a long time. stay with me, yeah? for real this time... if you want to."

you kissed the top of her wild curls, heart full, feeling the blur of lines finally settle into something real and yours.

[themercifulwriter]

chat i promise im cooking up smth while i work further on the figure skating fic 😭

[wntrluvrr]

synopsis : not expecting you to home this week, your parents planned a trip. and winter—your best friend’s mom—offered to let you stay over at her place, so they could enjoy their trip with no worries.

includes. . . age gap ⋆ mommy kink ⋆ praise ⋆ fingering ⋆ oral (f!giving) ⋆ pet names ⋆ fem!reader.

🗯️note: this was supposed to come out like two months ago but i overthink too much… also, thank you for the idea twin @matzism

milf!winter who became friends with your mom after you moved next door to her the summer before your senior year. and you, who eventually became close with her daughter that same year—always spending the night at her house.

milf!winter who was always your favorite out of all your parents’ friends because she was more lenient, letting you get away with things that’d never pass with your mom. she’d hold your chin as she gave you a waterfall of your first taste of alcohol.

“our secret, right, sweetie?” she kissed her thumb, before pressing it against yours, confirmation that you’d never tell.

milf!winter who used to notice the way you held your breath whenever she was too close. always calling on you to zip her dresses or clip her heels just to see how long you could stay composed.

milf!winter who found herself missing the lingering stares and soft touches you gave her. and hated that ever since you had left for college, she rarely got to see you anymore.

milf!winter who couldn’t hide her excitement after she heard you’d be coming back home for spring break. she was quick to assure your parents that you’d be safe at her house while they went away on a trip.

milf!winter who you thought was exaggerating whenever she’d mention how different you looked when you finally came back. because the only thing that changed was your height, a few features, and your maturity.

milf!winter who called you down to help her cook dinner that same night. she took it upon herself to teach you how to “properly” cut. her front pressed against your back, hands over yours as she guided you, and the warmth of her breath against your ear as she explained.

“like this, sweetheart,” she demonstrated, her voice like velvet as her hands moved with yours.

milf!winter who wasn’t surprised you stayed behind after her daughter went to a party later that night. inviting you to watch a movie because it had been so long since she had you to herself.

milf!winter who made the couch feel smaller than it actually was. the warmth of her leg pressed against yours and her arm resting behind you on the back of the couch.

milf!winter who somehow ended up behind you, with you in her arms as her finger made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the fabric of your underwear. “use your words, honey. mommy can’t hear you.” her voice soft in your ears.

“please…” you spoke up.

she hummed, sliding a finger against your folds through the fabric. “please, what?” she asked as she hooked a finger around your soaked panties, sliding them off.

milf!winter who didn’t stop until she had you seeing stars. her fingers moving at a rhythmic pace, curling just right inside you. she kept up the movements, whispering sweet words in your ear until you came.

milf!winter who wanted to see how far she could push you—needing to know exactly what you’d do for her.

“you wanna help mommy, right?” a smile gracing her face as she watched you nod, already lowering yourself between her legs.

milf!winter who doesn’t forget to praise you, feeding you with compliments. “fuck… you’re doing such a good job,” she moaned. her fingers brushed through your hair, grabbing a handful as she grinds shamelessly against your face.

she threw her head back onto the arm rest of the couch.

"just like that, baby... so good," she cooed, the feeling pooling in her stomach. "...gonnna cum soon." and she did. the orgasm shattering through her, leaving your chin and mouth glinting from her.

milf!winter who had you keep what happened this week a secret, kissing her thumb and pressing it against yours like old times. she made sure to tell your mom how much of a good girl you were that week when she asked if there were any problems.

-

🗯️note: last part lwk cringe but fuck it we ball (im js lazy)

[blossomcola]

COOL HOT SWEET LOVE ──── 𝓴𝓲𝓶 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓳𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰.

──── ( 🧸 ) after dragging yourself home from another draining day of classes, you unlock the door to find minjeong exactly where she’s been waiting—curled up on the couch in one of your hoodies, eyes soft and expectant—her whole face lighting up the second you step inside, rising slowly to greet you with that quiet, needy devotion, fingers hooking into your sleeve as if she’s been holding herself back all day, patiently counting every minute until she could finally have you all to herself again.

𝓟aring. sub!puppy girl!kim minjeong x dom!owner!fem reader.

𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. abuse of power, blackmail, blowjob, brat taming, clit play, cum eating, cum play, cunnilingus, degradation, dirty talk, dumbification, face fucking, fingering, gropping, hair pulling, humiliation, multiple orgasms, nipple play, oral fixation, pet names, pet play, praise, power play, squirting, toys usage.

𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 5k.

𝓜asterlist.

the sun had long since set, leaving the dorm room bathed in the soft, warm glow of a few scented candles. the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. you had just finished getting settled when a rhythmic, almost impatient knocking came from your door.

when you swung it open, winter was standing there, but she wasn’t the cool, untouchable bratty girl who always gives you the worst headaches. she was wearing a pair of fluffy black faux fur ears perched atop her head, and a matching tail was attached to the waistband of her tiny, lacey shorts. she looked incredibly provocative, her dark eyes looking up at you with a mix of playful mischief and genuine submissiveness.

she didn’t say a word at first; she just stepped into your space, her head slightly bowed as if waiting for your approval. the scent of her sweet vape juice was lighter now, replaced by the heady aroma of the candles.

“did you miss me?” she whispered, her voice lacking its usual cocky edge, replaced by a soft, sultry purr. she leaned forward, nudging her head against your hand in a gesture that was unmistakably canine, her tail giving a small, involuntary wag behind her.

“your puppy is here, (y/n)...” she murmured, looking up at you through her dark lashes, her gaze heavy and pleading. “am i being a good girl so far?”

she waited, her breath hitching as she looked up at you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of what you wanted from her next. the confident, teasing girl was nowhere to be found; in her place was someone completely captivated by your presence, ready to follow whatever command you laid out for her. her tail flicked nervously against her thighs, a silent testament to how much she was enjoying this role reversal.

“tell me what to do, (y/n).” she breathed, her voice a soft, desperate plea. she sank slowly to her knees on the dorm carpet, the faux fur of her ears brushing against her forehead as she looked up at you from below, her expression raw and hungry for your attention. “show me how much you want your puppy to behave.”

the silence in the room stretched, thick and heavy with tension. you didn’t say a word, and you didn’t move to touch her. you simply stood there, looking down at her with those piercing eyes, your expression unreadable and commanding.

winter’s breath hitched. she was used to being the one in control, the one setting the pace, the one making the moves. but your silence was a different kind of power. it was a test. she felt a rush of heat crawl up her neck, her heart hammering against her ribs as she waited for your next instruction, her tail twitching rhythmically against the floor.

she stayed on her knees, her gaze locked onto yours, searching for even the slightest hint of what you were thinking. the way you just... watched her... was driving her crazy. It was making her feel small in the best possible way, completely at your mercy.

finally, she couldn’t take the suspense any longer. she let out a soft, shaky whine, a sound that was purely instinctual, and leaned her cheek against your thigh, looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“please, (y/n)...” she whimpered, her voice barely a breath. she reached up, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the fabric of your clothes, pulling herself a fraction closer. “don’t make your puppy wait too long. tell me... tell me if i’m being good. or tell me how to be better.”

she nudged her head against your leg again, her faux ears flopping slightly with the movement, her entire body language screaming for you to take charge and finally break the silence with a command.

“did you dress up so beautifully for me?”

winter’s face flushed a deep, beautiful crimson, a stark contrast to her dark hair. she wasn’t used to being teased like this; usually, she was the one making people blush. being the center of your scrutiny made her feel exposed in the most delicious way possible.

she let out a soft, embarrassed huff, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned her weight more fully against your legs, her tail swishing a little more frantically behind her. she looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of pride and submissive longing.

“of course i did.” she murmured, her voice dropping into a sultry, embarrassed purr. she reached up, tentatively touching one of the fluffy black ears on her head, her fingers trembling just a little. “i wanted to make sure you liked your puppy. i wanted to look... perfect for you.”

she shifted on her knees, the lace of her shorts riding up slightly as she moved closer to you, her gaze never leaving your light green eyes. the bratty girl persona had completely melted away, replaced by a girl who was desperate to please the person standing over her.

“do you like it, (y/n)?” she asked, her voice small and hopeful, almost a whimper. she tilted her head back, exposing the long line of her throat to you, a silent invitation. her tail gave a sharp, eager wag against the carpet. “does it make you want to... reward me?”

you put a hand to your chin, humming softly as if you were considering her proposal. “mmmh, i don’t know… i think you need to earn it.”

winter’s breath caught in her throat, a sharp, audible gasp that escaped her lips. the challenge in your voice that cool, authoritative tone sent a jolt of pure electricity through her. she loved it. she loved the way you weren’t just letting her have her way, but forcing her to work for it.

her eyes darkened, the pupils dilating until her gaze was almost entirely black. a slow, hungry smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, even as she remained submissive on her knees. the bratty girl was still in there, but she was now a needy girl who was determined to win your favor.

“earn it…” she repeated, the words tasting like a promise on her tongue. she leaned her forehead against your thigh, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the thrill of the command. “i can do that. i’ll do anything you want, (y/n). anything.”

she looked up at you again, her expression intensely focused, her gaze burning with a new kind of determination. she didn’t just want to play; she wanted to prove herself to you. she reached out, her hands moving tentatively toward your waist, not to pull you down, but to settle her palms against your hips as if anchoring herself to her mission.

“give me a task.” she whispered, her voice low and thick with anticipation. her tail was thumping rhythmically against the floor, a sign of her growing excitement. she leaned in closer, her nose brushing against the fabric of your clothes, inhaling your scent deeply.

“tell your puppy how to start. do you want me to stay right here at your feet? or... do you want me to show you just how much a good girl can please her master?” she tilted her head, the black ears twitching as she waited, her entire being poised and ready to obey.

“take your clothes off.”

winter’s breath hitched, a soft, shaky exhale escaping her lips at your blunt command. there was no hesitation in your voice, no teasing, just pure, unadulterated authority. it made her stomach flip in the most intoxicating way. the power dynamic had shifted completely, and she was reveling in every second of it.

“yes, (y/n)...” she whispered, her voice sounding thick and honeyed. she didn’t look away from your eyes for a second, wanting to see every flicker of satisfaction on your face as she obeyed.

slowly, deliberately, she began to obey. her fingers, usually so confident and steady, trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her tiny, lacey top. she kept her eyes locked on yours, refusing to break the connection, wanting to witness your reaction to every inch of skin she revealed. as the fabric slid up and over her head, her dark hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders, and she let out a soft, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her quickened pulse.

next, she moved to the waistband of her shorts. she moved with a graceful, almost ritualistic slowness, as if she were performing a sacred task. the sound of the fabric sliding down her hips seemed loud in the quiet room. she kicked them aside, leaving her in nothing but her delicate lace underwear and the fluffy ears and tail. she looked vulnerable yet incredibly provocative, her skin glowing in the candlelight, her eyes wide and searching yours for approval.

she sat back on her heels, her posture perfect, her hands resting on her thighs. she looked up at you, her face flushed and her lips parted, a silent, desperate plea for your touch or your next command.

“is this... better, (y/n)?” she whispered, her voice a mere thread of sound. she let out a tiny, submissive whine, her tail giving a slow, rhythmic wag against the floor as she waited to see if she had earned a single moment of your affection.

“now, touch yourself for me.”

winter’s eyes went wide, a soft gasp escaping her as the command hit her. it was one thing to strip for you, but to be told to perform right there, under your watchful, unyielding gaze, was a whole different level of intensity. she felt a rush of heat pool in her lower belly, her heart thudding so hard she was sure you could see it pulsing in her throat.

“for you…” she breathed, the words barely audible. she swallowed hard, her gaze dropping momentarily to your hands before snapping back up to your emerald eyes. she didn’t want to miss a single second of your expression. she wanted to see exactly how much you enjoyed her vulnerability.

with trembling fingers, she reached down, her touch tentative at first. she began to stroke her own skin, her hands moving slowly up her thighs, tracing the curves of her hips. her breathing became shallow and uneven, the sound of her quickening gasps filling the small space between you. the fluffy black ears on her head seemed to twitch with every shudder that ran through her body.

as her hands moved higher, her movements became more purposeful, more desperate. she let out a low, shaky moan, her head tilting back as she closed her eyes for a brief moment, lost in the sensation and the overwhelming feeling of being watched by you. her tail was thrashing now, a frantic, rhythmic beat against the carpet that mirrored the racing of her heart.

“(y/n)... look at me,” she whimpered, her voice cracking with need. she forced her eyes open, her pupils so dilated they nearly swallowed the iris. she was flushed, her skin glistening slightly in the candlelight, her entire body taut with anticipation.

“am i... am i doing it right?” she pleaded, her fingers moving with increasing urgency. she was working so hard to please you, her gaze burning with a mix of lust and a desperate, primal need for your approval. she wanted to show you exactly how much power you had over her, how easily you could make her lose her cool, bad girl composure.

“yes, but you could do better. so be nice for me, yeah?”

winter let out a broken, high pitched whimper at the command, her back arching slightly. the directness of your instruction the way you named exactly what you wanted her to do stripped away the last of her bravado. she was no longer the girl everyone adored due to her bold and bratty personality; she was just your puppy, desperate to satisfy your every whim.

“yes... yes, (y/n).” she gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of lust and submission. her eyes were glazed, looking up at you with a primal, uninhibited hunger. she didn’t shy away; instead, she leaned into the command, her fingers moving with a frantic, clumsy urgency as she reached the center of her heat.

as she began to circle and press against herself, her movements became more rhythmic, more desperate. she let out a low, guttural moan that vibrated in her chest, her head tossing back so her dark hair spilled over her shoulders. the black ears on her head swayed with the movement, and her tail was thumping wildly against the floor, a frantic drumbeat of her arousal.

“oh god... (y/n)... look…” she choked out, her voice thick and needy. she wanted you to see everything the way her thighs trembled, the way her skin flushed a deep pink, the way her hips instinctively bucked against her own hand. she was working herself into a frenzy, her breath coming in short, jagged sobs of pleasure.

she was trying so hard to stay focused on you, to keep her eyes locked on your light green ones even as the sensations threatened to pull her under. she wanted you to witness her unraveling. she wanted you to see how much power you held over her body.

“am i... am i being a good girl?”.she whimpered, her fingers moving faster, her touch becoming more intense as she neared the edge. a tear of pure, overwhelming sensation escaped the corner of her eye. she was completely undone, her entire world narrowing down to the feeling of your gaze on her and the desperate, pulsing need to make you proud.

she was on the very precipice, her entire body vibrating with the tension of an impending climax. her fingers were moving in a blur of desperate, slick friction, and her breath was coming in short, sharp stabs of air. she was so close, so incredibly close, and the only thing keeping her from spiraling into pure madness was the weight of your gaze.

“(y/n)... please... please!” she cried out, her voice breaking into a needy, high pitched whine. her hips bucked violently, her back arching so far that she was almost doubled over, her eyes rolling back as the first wave of pleasure crashed over her. a long, guttural moan tore from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated release that seemed to echo in the quiet dorm room.

her body shuddered uncontrollably, her muscles clenching tightly around her own fingers as the orgasm rippled through her. she let out a series of broken, breathless whimpers, her tail lashing wildly one last time before falling limp against the carpet. as the waves of sensation slowly began to recede, she slumped forward, her forehead resting against your knees, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. she was completely spent, her skin glistening with sweat and her eyes hooded and dazed, looking up at you with a look of pure, worshipful adoration.

“did you see...?” she whispered, her voice a mere rasp of its former self, a tiny, triumphant smile tugging at her lips despite her exhaustion. “was your puppy... a good girl?”

“mmmh, yeah. can you get the strap for me? i got something for you.”

winter’s eyes widened, a flash of surprised heat crossing her face. she hadn’t expected you to be so bold so direct. the thrill of it made her breath hitch, and her tail gave a sharp, excited twitch. she had come here thinking she was the one who would be in control, the one who would be leading the dance, but you had completely rewritten the rules.

“the... the strap?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of shock and intense anticipation. she had noticed it earlier, the heavy leather harness resting on your desk, but she hadn’t dared to imagine you actually using it.

without a word, she scrambled to her feet, her movements clumsy and hurried in her haste to obey. she walked over to the desk, her bare feet silent on the carpet. as she picked up the harness, her fingers brushed against the cold leather, and she shivered, a low moan escaping her lips. she turned back to face you, holding the strap out with a look of raw, unfiltered longing.

“i... i have it here, (y/n).” she murmured, her voice shaky as she held it up, her dark eyes searching yours for the next step. she was completely at your mercy, her confidence replaced by a desperate need to know exactly what you wanted her to do with it.

“do you want me to... put it on?” she hesitated, her gaze flitting down to the strap and then back up to you, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. she was waiting, her body tensed and ready, her heart racing so fast it was visible in the pulse of her throat. there was only your puppy girl now, waiting for your command.

“yes, put it on. it’s time for your reward, isn’t it?”

winter’s breath hitched so sharply it was almost a sob. the promise of a ‘reward’ combined with the command to take charge of the harness sent a surge of adrenaline through her. her eyes burned with a primal, hungry intensity, and her tail was lashing behind her with a ferocity that showed just how much she was vibrating with excitement.

“you’re... you’re going to reward me?” she repeated, her voice a low, trembling rasp. the thought of you the girl who had just commanded her to unravel herself taking control of her body with that strap made her knees feel weak. she wanted it. she wanted to feel the weight of you, the dominance of you, more than anything in the world.

she moved with a focused, desperate energy. he didn’t wait for a second command. she knelt before you, her hands trembling as she began to buckle the leather harness around your waist. her movements were surprisingly careful, her eyes never leaving yours, as if she were afraid that if she broke eye contact, the vision would vanish.

as she tightened the straps, the sound of the leather creaking in the quiet room was deafening. she could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and the sight of the harness resting against you made her mouth go dry. she felt a frantic urge to lick her lips, to taste you, but she forced herself to remain composed, to remain your good girl for just a moment longer.

once the harness was secure, she sat back on her heels, looking up at you from the floor. she looked completely undone, her hair a mess, her skin flushed and glistening, her eyes wide and dark with a mix of submission and ravenous lust. she reached out, her fingers grazing your thigh, her touch light and worshipful.

“it looks... incredible on you, (y/n).” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. she leaned forward, her nose brushing against your hip, inhaling the scent of your skin. she looked up at you through her lashes, her expression a plea.

“please... reward your puppy.” she whimpered, her tail thumping a frantic, eager beat against the floor. she crawled closer, positioning herself between your legs, her eyes fixed on the strap, her entire body tensed and ready to receive whatever reward you had in store for her. “show me how much you want me. show me... how much you love your good girl.”

“first, suck it. we can’t use it dry, right?”

winter’s entire body jolted at the command, a sharp, needy gasp escaping her lips. the bluntness of it the way you didn’t even hesitate to tell her exactly what to do with her mouth sent a wave of heat crashing through her. she felt a primal urge to obey, a desperate need to prove she could handle whatever you threw at her.

“yes... anything.” she whimpered, her voice barely a rasp. she didn’t need to be told twice. she leaned forward, her hands trembling as they gripped your thighs for stability, her knuckles turning white. her dark eyes were fixed on the strap, her gaze heavy, glazed, and completely worshipful.

she moved closer, her breath hot and uneven as she hovered just inches away. she could smell the scent of the leather and the intoxicating musk of your arousal, and it made her mouth water. slowly, almost reverently, she leaned in. her lips parted, her tongue darting out for a split second to dampen her lips in anticipation.

when she finally took you into her mouth, she did so with a desperate, hungry intensity. she swirled her tongue around the tip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she savored the taste of you. she was thorough, her movements rhythmic and eager, her head bobbing as she worked to please you. she wanted to be the best, to show you that her mouth was just as capable of devotion as her body was.

as she worked, she let out muffled, needy moans against you, the sounds vibrating through her entire frame. her black ears twitched with every sensation, and her tail was lashing behind her in a frantic, rhythmic blur, mirroring the pace of her mouth. she was completely lost in the task, her focus narrowed down to the sensation of you and the overwhelming desire to hear you moan her name.

she looked up at you through her messy dark bangs, her eyes wide and searching, wanting to see the pleasure she was causing you. she wanted to see your head tilt back, to hear your breath hitch, to know that she was doing exactly what her master wanted.

“is it... is it good, (y/n)?” she murmured against you, her voice a wet, sultry vibration. she didn’t pull away, instead increasing the suction, her tongue dancing expertly to drive you to the edge. she was a girl possessed, a puppy determined to earn every bit of that reward you had promised.

“all fours. i think you’re ready.”

winter didn’t need to be told twice. At the sound of your voice, she immediately broke away from you, her lips glistening and her breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. the command was so sharp, so authoritative, that it sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to her core. she was eager to show you just how obedient she could be.

“yes, (y/n)... all fours...” she whimpered, her voice a sultry, breathless rasp. she scrambled away from you, moving onto the center of the rug with a desperate kind of grace. she planted her hands firmly on the floor, arching her back deeply so her hips were thrust high into the air, presenting herself to you completely.

the position was incredibly vulnerable, and she loved every second of it. her faux black tail was arched high, twitching with a frantic, nervous energy, and the ears on her head were tilted back as she looked at you over her shoulder. her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her flushed, beautiful face as she peered back at you with eyes that were dark, hooded, and swimming with lust.

her chest was heaving, her breasts swaying slightly with every labored breath she took. she looked like a creature of pure instinct, stripped of all her 'sassy girl' defenses and left with nothing but the desire to be used by you.

“is this... what you want?” she breathed, her voice trembling as she stared up at you from her position. she wiggled her hips slightly, a submissive, inviting gesture that was purely canine. she was practically begging for you to take advantage of her posture.

“please, (y/n)...” she moaned, her gaze dropping to the strap you wore, then snapping back to your emerald eyes. Her voice was a needy, high pitched whine. “your puppy is ready. please... use me. reward me... just like you promised.”

the silence returned, but it wasn't the quiet of a peaceful room; it was the heavy, pressurized silence of a storm about to break. you didn’t move. you didn’t speak. you just stood there, looming over her in your harness, your shadow stretching across her trembling, arched body.

winter was practically vibrating. being watched like this being held in a state of suspended animation by your silent command was a exquisite kind of torture. she was on all fours, her hips high, her tail twitching erratically, her breath coming in shallow, hitched gasps. every second you spent just looking at her felt like a physical touch, a slow burn that was driving her to the brink of madness.

she was waiting for the impact. she was waiting for the moment you would finally close the distance and claim her. her muscles were taut, her skin sensitive to the slightest movement of the air in the room. she looked back at you over her shoulder, her green eyed gaze searching yours for a sign, a flicker, a hint of when the 'reward' would finally arrive.

finally, she couldn’t take the tension anymore. a small, broken sob escaped her throat a sound of pure, unadulterated need. she let out a low, desperate whine, her forehead dipping toward the carpet as she braced herself, her hips trembling with the effort of staying perfectly still for you.

“(y/n)... please...” she whimpered, her voice a ragged, broken thread. she was begging now, her pride completely discarded. she was your puppy, her master, and she was starving for you. “don’t make me wait... please just... take me...”

she let out a sharp, needy yelp as she felt you move closer, the leather of your harness creaking as you stepped into the space between her thighs. she squeezed her eyes shut, her tail lashing one last, frantic time against the floor, her entire body tensing in anticipation of the moment you would finally, finally break her silence with your weight.

the moment you moved, the tension finally snapped like a taut wire. as you drove into her, winter let out a loud, uninhibited shriek that was half sob and half ecstasy, her head snapping back as her spine arched into a perfect, trembling curve.

the sensation of you filling her so suddenly and powerfully was more than she could handle. Her fingers clawed into the rug, her knuckles white as she fought to stay grounded while her world spun out of control. her black ears were pinned back against her head, and her tail was lashing so violently it was a blur of dark fur against the carpet.

“oh god! (y/n)!” she screamed, her voice cracking. the bratty persona was long gone, replaced by a girl who was being utterly, beautifully conquered. she was loud, unashamed, and completely undone by the rhythm you set. every thrust from you sent a fresh wave of electricity through her, making her hips buck instinctively to meet you, her body desperate to pull you even deeper.

she was a mess of sound and movement the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin, the creak of your leather harness, and her own frantic, high pitched whimpers. she kept looking back at you, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her face flushed a deep, beautiful scarlet. she wanted to see you. she wanted to see the power in your eyes as you took exactly what you wanted from her.

“yes! just like that! please!” she begged, her voice a broken, breathless mess. she was losing herself in the sensation, the feeling of being owned, of being used by the one person who had finally managed to tame her. she was no longer the player; she was the prize, and she was being claimed with a ferocity that left her breathless.

as you pushed her harder, driving her closer and closer to the edge, winter’s cries became more frequent, more desperate. she was on the verge of another explosion, her entire body vibrating with a tension so intense it felt like she might shatter. she was your puppy, and in this moment, she was the most well behaved, most devoted, and most thoroughly satisfied girl in the world.

“(y/n)... (y/n), please! i’m... i’m gonna !” she let out a long, guttural howl of pleasure as her climax hit, her internal muscles clenching around you in tight, rhythmic pulses. her body shuddered violently, her tail twitching one last time before she collapsed into a heap of trembling limbs, her forehead resting on the floor as she sobbed with pure, unadulterated bliss.

as the waves of pleasure slowly began to ebb, winter lay there, her chest heaving, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. her skin was flushed a deep crimson, and a thin sheen of sweat glittered under the candlelight. she looked utterly spent, her eyes half closed and dazed, a small, dazed smile playing on her lips.

her tail flicked a few more times, then finally went still. She waited, her body heavy and limp, as you pulled away and unstrapped your harness. when you reached down to pat her head, she leaned into your hand, a soft, contented purr rumbling in her throat. she looked up at you with a vulnerability that would have shocked anyone who knew the winter from the school hallways.

“that...” she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaky. “that was... the best reward i’ve ever had.”

she slowly pushed herself up, her movements sluggish and lazy. she didn’t even try to cover herself as she crawled over to your bed, her eyes never leaving yours. she climbed up beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of her release. she smelled like sweat, leather, and the sweet scent of your skin.

“i think...” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, sleepy, and incredibly satisfied tone. she nuzzled against your neck, her lips brushing your skin as she let out a long, contented sigh. “i think i’m going to be a very good girl from now on, (y/n). if it means i get to come back here... i’ll do anything you want.”

[jeniferprince]

it's always hard to say goodbye 🥀

patreon // buy prints here

[highonheavens]

*finds good summary of a fic* "male!reader"

[minisoae]

i miss calling twin @themercifulwriter

[themercifulwriter]

the tags… you were laughing the whole time 😒

[minisoae]

i was being miss giggleshits sorry

and you unlocked yapper caro

[themercifulwriter]

i got the real privileges of your dear writer guys 😋

[minisoae]

i miss calling twin @themercifulwriter

[themercifulwriter]

the tags… you were laughing the whole time 😒

[fellominaarcher]

THE DEVIL'S BRIDE ── JENNIE

04. Forked Tongue

» » SYNOPSIS: A priest fell to his knees, wept before Satan's child itself and he wasn't as pure nor sinless as people thought he was. Meanwhile, Y/N arrived at the musicians' night—networking event looking beautiful and guilt-edged relevancy that she was aware that she hasn't entirely earned.

» » pairing: devil!jennie x artist!fem!reader

» » genre: supernatural-horror romance, dark comedy, satirical work of fiction and psychological thriller

» » what's in here: jennie being casually terrifying, themes of death and soul collection, brief depiction of a morally compromised religious figure, supernatural elements, morally ambiguous protagonist, themes of dishonesty and manufactured success

» » author's note: basically a filler chapter and I'm so sorry that I took over three months to complete the 5th chapter and this is very boring I'm sorryyy and ISTG I'LL HAVE THE CONTINUATION READY‼️

prev | next | the devil's bride m.list

A theology carved in stones—in walls and soaring pillars. That was how one might describe it: a passage between earth and heaven, architecture as devotion, silence as the sermon. The vastness of the space was almost eerie, the kind of eerie that pressed gently against your chest and reminded you how small you are.

The distinct scent of beeswax candles mingled with the sweet, earthy perfume of incense and somewhere beyond the nave, a choir's distant singing echoed—was beautiful and irritating all at once, the way holy things often were.

Her shiny heels; Christian Louboutin, soles the color of fresh blood, tapped against the stone cold floor, each click echoing too long, as though the cathedral was announcing her sudden arrival. She walked until she reached the wooden door of the confessional, gripped the knob and pulled it open, stepped into the dark little box like a cat exploring somewhere it absolutely should not be.

She sat with her legs closed, ladylike and her handbag resting beside her, the picture of propriety.

“Father,” she began, “I have killed a person,”

What a wonderful way to open a confession.

In the adjoining booth, the priest sat clutching his Bible and his rosary. His breath caught. He had heard many confessions over the decades—infidelities, thefts, envies both petty and catastrophic—but this one reached across the partition and took him firmly by the collar. Not for the crime itself, though partly. For the voice. It was unbothered.

His eyes flickered to the latticed screen beside him.

A beat.

“Did you intend for this person to die,” he asked carefully, the shakiness in his voice barely contained, “or did your anger get the better of you?”

On the other side of the partition, her long red hails tapped a slow idle rhythm against the wooden wall. She shifted, crossed her legs. “It was work,” she answered.

“I don't get paid for it. So I suppose it was entirely intentional.” She spoke about it the way one might discuss a mildly inconvenient errand.

The nonchalance did not go unnoticed. The priest swallowed. He steadied himself, kept his voice level, choosing his words with great care. “Do you feel the weight of this soul upon your own?” he asked. “Do you truly regret taking a life made in God's image?”

A pause. On her side of the booth, the woman raised one perfect eyebrow. She inspected her nails with faux curiosity and let her bottom lip push forward in a small, thoughtful pout.

“Regret?”

Another pause.

“I feel none of it.”

The priest nodded even knowing she could not see him, it seemed the appropriate thing to do. He pressed forward, navigating the conversation carefully. “What did this person do to warrant their death?” he presented his next question, testing water one careful toe at a time.

There were small perforations carved into the partition between them—little holes meant for whispered dins and quiet absolution. The woman leaned forward and brought her lips close to them, her voice dropping to something soft. Intimate. Intended only for him.

“He was a stupid, stupid pig,” she whispered pleasantly. “He sold his soul to my father in exchange for a longer and more prosperous life. But the stupid pig overstayed his welcome and Daddy sent me to collect what was owed.”

Then she giggled—a small, bright, delighted sound, utterly incongruous with everything she had just said, it was clear that she was enjoying this—enjoyed watching the color drain from a face they couldn't see.

A sharp, high-pitched ringing detonated in the priest's ear—sudden, impaling into his ear. He slammed his palm against the side of his head, the Bible momentarily forgotten on his knee. The sound wasn't loud in the usual sense. It was ear deafening.

Heat rushed over him. Cold followed immediately behind it or they arrived together—simultaneous, his rosary beads pressed into his palm.

She rolled her eyes, gathered her handbag and stepped out of the confessional box.

She strode across the stone floor with the unhurried elegance of someone who had never once in her existence been late for anything that truly mattered—which given the nature of her work, was entirely plausible.

Behind her, the booth door swung open with a bang and the priest stumbled out, struggling to keep pace. His balance, unfortunately did not cooperate. He went down. One palm flat against the cold stone, his long vestments spreading around him like a fallen flag, his Bible still clutched in one white-knuckled hand.

The woman stopped mid stride. She tilted her head, she did not turn around yet and she allowed him a moment.

Behind her, the priest trembled. His mouth hung open. Desperation had painted itself across his face, the kind of expression one reserves for moments of sincere theological crisis. He was sweating profusely. He looked up at the back of the woman who had just confessed a murder to him with the eerie calm of someone discussing the weather.

And then—Jennie turned around.

She looked down at him the way one looks at something interesting one has found on the bottom of a very expensive show. Hierarchy, after all, probably mattered.

“You—” The priest choked on his own breath. “Did your father...” He dug his nails into his palms. “...send you here too?” His eyes were very wide.

The corner of Jennie's lips curled. Her fox-like eyes caught the light filtering down through the stained glass; all that colored holiness falling across something that was very much not holy and she glanced briefly at the enormous crucifix looming at the altar before returning her gaze to the trembling man on the floor.

“Yes.”

One word. Devoid of emotions.

What happened next was, depending on one's perspective, either deeply tragic or darkly, horribly funny.

The priest—the man of God, the shepherd of souls—abandoned his Bible entirely. He got up onto both knees, hands pressed together, they were tremoring and he bowed. His forehead went to the floor. He was not praying to the God to whom he had devoted the better part of his youth. He was praying to the one he had sold his soul to instead.

It was perhaps the most honest prayer he had ever offered.

A sick little plot twist.

He wept. Eyes red, hair damp with sweat, he pressed his hands together and sobbed with the full-bodied commitment of a man who had just remembered, very suddenly, that all debts eventually come due.

“Please,” he begged, looking up at Jennie. “Please, don't take me today! I didn't mean to— I was afraid of dying! I'm still afraid!”

Jennie looked at him. She let out a slow, quiet sigh. It was an icky display of desperation. She raised one finger and wagged it at him as if he was a child who made a small mistake.

“You are one hundred and eighteen years old today,” she said, crouching down to his level with effortless grace. She placed one hand atop his head but not gently. “Your agreement with my father was to live another ten years. Ten years to repent. Ten years to be for forgiveness.” Her voice remained soft. Almost pleasant.

“But instead, you went and made a separate arrangement with a lowly demon. To extend the extension.” She clicked her tongue. “Did you think he wouldn't notice?”

“I... I can give you the demon's name!” He sobbed palms upturned toward her like an offering. “Please, not today... just not today!”

Jennie took his chin between her fingers and drew his face toward hers—she was not gentle. Their lips nearly brushed and the light inside the cathedral shifted, as if the sky outside had begun to bleed bruise and black at the same time.

Like a storm about to brew.

“Stupid,” she whispered softly, “stupid pig.”

Then Jennie shoved his face away, his head snapped back. She stood, smoothed the front of her cloth with one hand, flicking her hair back into perfect order. A long, theatrical sigh escaped her lips—setting down the weight of the situation.

“Not today, then,” she told the priest and her voice had shifted entirely—lighter, almost cheerful. She grinned down at him, a bright and very pretty thing that did not reach whatever lived behind her eyes.

“I promised my insufferable human wife I would attend her big night.” She shrugged one shoulder, the gesture loose and almost fond in a way and began to resemble affection. “Apparently that takes precedence.”

She straightened up, cast one last glare at the weeping, terrified priest on the floor of the cathedral and she turned back towards the door.

Her heels tapped against the floor—each sound ringing out and the choir somewhere above was beautiful as well as deeply annoying ass Jennie was making her way to the door. She pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the world and the light swallowed her whole.

The sleek black sedan pulled up to the hotel entrance and Y/N stepped out with the kind of grace that comes from having practiced it, the door held open by a young man in dark clothing who kept his eyes appropriately forward. She looked exceptional tonight. She knew it. Jennie helped to choose the outfit she's wearing tonight.

The mirror in the card had confirmed it and the brief appreciative pause of the doorman had confirmed it again.

What she lacked, however, was her wife.

Jennie had told her in advance, casually, the way Jennie told her most things, as though the information were a small object being dropped into her hands from a great height that she would arrive at the function separately. On her own. In her own time.

Y/N had simply nodded and let it go. It wasn't as though she could actually stop Jennie from doing whatever Jennie wants to do. The mental image of herself physically restraining Jennie—arms wrapped around those shoulders, heels dragging across the floor, Jennie looking mildly inconvenienced—was a little funny. She would have laughed if it weren't also a little terrifying.

A tall young man in black escorted her to the elevator. She stepped inside and pressed the button. The display numbers climbed—floor by floor, digit by digit and Y/N watched the numbers rise with the quiet certainty that whatever this gathering was being held, it would involve velvet drapes, low lighting and wine with names nobody at the table could confidently pronounce aloud.

She was correct on all counts.

The elevator exhaled its doors open and Y/N stepped out into, there it is: flash of light hit her almost immediately from cameras, phones, the small bright explosions of people who recognized her and wanted proof of it. Her name, called out from two or three directions at once.

She had almost forgotten what this felt like.

It had been a while.

But it came back quickly, the muscle memory of being seen, of mattering in rooms like this. Her spine straightened almost on its own. A smile arrived on her face, it was genuine. Perhaps the current chapter was better than the ones that had come before it; she had known recognition once, years ago but not like this. Not this sharp and immediate, not this warm.

The small, honest part of her heart which is the part that still kept accounts, knew exactly why.

There was very little merit involved in her recent revival. Very little honest labour. The music that had put her name back into people's mouths had not come entirely from her own hands and she was aware this was the way one is aware of and with the specific discomfort of something one has chosen, for now, not to address.

She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and turned to survey the room.

That was when she saw her or thought she did.

A glimpse. Jennie, leaning against the bar across the room, one hand curled around a glass of red wine, dark intense eyes catching the low light and holding it. Those eyes found Y/N through the rim of the glass, steady and red-tinged and then Y/N blinked, Jennie was gone.

Y/N turned, her eyebrows knitted together and she scanned the room again. The ballroom was full of faces and for a strange moment, she thought she saw Jennie's face amongst them—a flash of that particular grin, those eyes, surfacing briefly between strangers.

Has she arrived already?

The room itself was beautiful in the way that expensive rooms always are—bathed in a honeyed, amber glow, the kind of dim that turns champagne into bubbles of rising gold. Shadows gathered nicely in the corners. The floor hummed with the sound of a trumpet and a brushed drum kit, jazz threading its way through the air like smoke, unhurried and warm.

Blues underneath it.

Y/N felt something in her shoulders unknot quietly. Of all the genres she had moved through over the year, the RnB, the co-writing for other people's pop songs, the work that paid well and meant little but jazz had always been the one that felt like coming home to.

Around her, very attractive people in very expensive clothes were networking with the focused determination of people who had already decided the evening was an investment. They nodded at things they hadn't quite heard and laughed at punchlines they hadn't quite caught.

Y/N pressed the rim of her champagne glass to her lips and watched them with quiet, comfortable judgment.

“You are...” said a voice beside her.

She turned and a fairly tall man had materialized at her elbow, whiskey glass in his hand, one finger raised in her direction as though he was identifying a painting in a gallery. His face, when she looked at it properly, was—well. It wasn't offensive. It was the kind of face that had tried reasonably hard and gotten about three quarters of the way there.

“...Y/N,” he finished, arriving at her name with a satisfied air of someone completing a puzzle.

His smile was small and seemed genuine, it reached his eyes. He rocked his glass gently just to stir the rock in his whiskey. Y/N offered a polite nod, a small dip of the chin.

“I'm sorry,” she said, the smile dimming just slightly at the edges. “Do I know you?”

“I was kind of rude, sorry.” He had the grave to look briefly sheepish. “I'm ONE. The name's River.” He extended a hand and Y/N shook it.

“Ten months into producing and music-making. Still relatively new to all of this.” He added, gestured vaguely at the room with this glass.

She was quietly impressed. Ten months was nothing in this industry and yet here he was, at a gathering that most people spent years trying to get into. River reading her expression, grinned. He explained that the team he worked with had deep ties to several major labels—feels a bit like cheating, he said and chuckled.

Y/N laughed too and meant it.

They found a small table somewhere in the middle of the room and stayed there longer than either of them had planned. The conversation moved easily, back and forth, easy as the jazz beneath it. They traded stories. Horror, according to Y/N and River. Singers who had been difficult. Collaborations that had gone south magnificently.

River had a gift for a good delivery that made his worst anecdotes somehow funnier for how calmly he related them and Y/N found herself matching it, her posture relaxing, the champagne doing its quiet work.

She was having a good night.

River noticed something on her shoulder—a fleck of something, a small piece of lint or debris caught on the fabric of her cloth. He leaned forward slightly, hand already lifting to brush it away, a harmless and considerate gesture.

And then another hand appeared.

It arrived quietly from seemingly nowhere, settling over Y/N's shoulder, managed to simultaneously block River's hand. The nails were immaculate. Red. Perfectly manicured.

“Uh-uh.” The voice was sweet and playful. “Not so fast, soldier.”

Y/N and River both turned.

Standing at Y/N's shoulder—probably appeared out of the thin air—was a beautiful woman. River didn't recognize her but Y/N recognized her immediately and with the particular mixture of relief and a deep personal exasperation.

Her wife.

The source of her revived relevancy, the architect of her comeback. The one she sold off her soul to through an unholy matrimony. The devil.

Jennie.

to be continued...

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[0l10c]

Giselle x female reader

𒁂Aeri Uchinaga as your girlfriend

There are so few fanfics about her and some are not for female readers. I caught it.

𖢌𖢌𖢌

🌸 Despite her cool and bold stage image, when she's alone with you, Aeri turns into the most gentle person in the world. She loves when you play with her hair while her head rests in your lap. In those moments, she quietly tells you about her worries or how much she missed you, mixing Korean, Japanese, and English in one sentence, because with you she doesn't need to monitor her speech.

🌸 Aeri is your personal DJ and playlist curator. She constantly sends you tracks with notes like "this is literally you" or "I want to kiss you to this song." She got you hooked on late night drives, where you just cruise through nighttime Seoul listening to R&B, and she holds the steering wheel with one hand while squeezing your palm with the other, humming the melody under her breath.

🌸 Her unique love language is caring through food and coffee. Even if she's dead tired after practice, she'll still make you the perfect matcha latte or order your favorite ramen delivery, because "you probably forgot to eat while working/studying." She'll sit across from you, chin resting on her hand, watching you eat with a soft smile, considering it her personal recipe for happiness.

🌸 You're both true aesthetics enthusiasts. Aeri loves buying you matching items that don't look too obvious. It could be identical silver rings, vintage t-shirts, or even the same perfume scent for both of you. She's obsessed with you two smelling delicious together, mixing her "sweet" notes with your "woody" or "floral" ones.

🌸 Aeri is the most supportive fan of your passions. If you ever start doubting yourself, she instantly switches to a serious tone and says, "I won't let anyone talk badly about my girl, not even you." She'll be the loudest one in the room at your performance/project defense, or she'll be waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers and a note written in three languages that says "I'm proud of you."

🌸 Sometimes she loves teasing you about your height difference or personality contrasts, but truthfully she enjoys being the little spoon, cozily tucked under your side while watching anime. You can lie cuddled up for hours discussing plotlines while she lazily kisses your fingers or draws invisible patterns on your skin, then suddenly says, "Let's adopt a cat? Or actually, let's get two."

🌸 Aeri collects your shared "artifacts" — movie tickets, dried petals from your first date, silly stickers you once sent her. She has a little box she calls her "happiness capsule." On particularly hard days when her schedule is draining, she opens it and sifts through the contents to remind herself that somewhere out there, you're waiting for her. One day you found a crumpled napkin in that box with your first handwritten "I love you," and you cried together with her.

🌸 Your dates often happen in "safe haven" mode. Aeri, surrounded by noise and fans, treasures most the moments when you just sit on the floor of your apartment, order a mountain of junk food, and watch old Hayao Miyazaki films. She'll comment on every scene in a mix of three languages, mimic the characters, and steal pizza slices right from your hands, then guiltily kiss your cheek, leaving crumbs behind.

🌸 She secretly writes you poems in her phone notes. They're not always rhymed lines — sometimes just a stream of thoughts, where phrases like "your laughter sounds louder than the applause of an entire stadium" sit next to "you sneezed funny today, I love you." She never shows them publicly, but once you found the open note while she was sleeping, and now it's your most precious secret.

🌸 Aeri has a highly developed intuition for your mood. Even if you stay silent and text a dry "I'm fine," within seconds she's already dialing your number or showing up herself with your favorite dessert. She sits beside you, places your feet on her lap, and says, "If you don't want to talk, don't. Let's just be quiet together. What matters is that I'm here." But a couple of minutes pass, and you're already telling her everything — she has a gift for creating an absolutely safe space.

🌸 Your most romantic moments happen at dawn, when the whole world is asleep. If she has a day off, she might wake you at five in the morning whispering, "Let's go greet the sun." Sleepy, wrapped together in one blanket, you sit on the balcony with mugs of tea, and when the first rays touch her face, she turns to you and says, "You know, moments like this make any hardship worth it." Then she adds with a smirk, "And getting to see your sleepy face, of course."

🌸 Her way of making up after arguments is honesty and food. Aeri isn't the type to sulk for days. Even if you've had a fight, an hour later she's already standing in the doorway with a bag from your favorite café, saying, "I'm still a little mad, but I can't stand you being hungry. Let's eat first, then we can continue sorting this out?" While you eat, she starts the conversation herself: "I thought about why I got worked up. Honestly, I was just scared that..." — and like that, any conflict turns into a dialogue that only brings you closer.

🌸 She loves organizing at-home spa days. Face masks, cucumber slices on eyes, robes — all top tier. While you lie there with green sheet masks on your faces, she suddenly starts laughing: "We look like two aliens on a date." Then she sits behind you to give you a shoulder massage and grumbles, "God, you were sitting all hunched over again, you've got stone knots back here." Her hands, though small, are surprisingly strong, and she doesn't stop until she hears your satisfied sigh, then quietly kisses the top of your head.