#Oh wait at the carnival | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 8 months ago

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໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ RIDE DA D!CK LIKE A CARNIVAL ! ’﹒⺡

geto, choso, gojo, toji, nanami.

જ warnings. fem! reader, riding, cowgirl / reverse, praise, degredation, shotgunning, (toji) overstim, impact play, size kink, unprotected, breeding, cőckwarming, toy usage, nípple play, mdni.

𖢺 CHOSO KAMO.

“princess, wait,” choso huffs out. he leans back, still gradually catching his breath whilst you straddled him. he swallowed thickly, dark irises staring right into yours. his gaze lingers down your body, and he lets off a soft pout at the feeling of being so buried deep into you. “i- i can go again, want you to ride me,” and then he pauses, running a hand through his hair. “oh. i mean—please. if you still have energy.”

“okay baby,” you hum, and your voice was so smooth. the way you called him your baby, it had him so weak. choso stared intently as you playfully give him a soft shove on his back. “just lie back ‘n let me ride you, yeah?”

choso’s heavily panting, he goes mute for a split second and it’s if as words was practically nonexistent for him. with a raring nod, he brings two big hands towards your hips.

“good boy,” you murmur, pressed right up against his ear. you were merely teasing. although, you felt his dick twitch eagerly inside you. choso’s fingers softly stroke against your waist, and he moans once you start to move your hips forward. he’s still so sensitive from before, just barely over the intense mess he made — and now, you were about to make an even bigger one.

“oh f-fuckkk,” he drags out. it was awfully cute, choso’s pitchy deep voice turning out to be far more whiney than he intended. you were gripping him tightly, hugging him with your walls before not even seconds go by and he throws his head back. “yeah, yeahhh. ride me like that, fuck me, fuck me good, princess. please.”

he leans back before groaning at the way your walls grip around him, hugging him so tightly. choso can’t keep his hands off of you, he runs the tips of his fingers against the edges of your waist before pouting. “harder, f-faster.”

you’d giggle, leaning in to kiss his nose. “are you rushing me, baby?”

“n-nooo,” he breathes, and he feels you gradually grinding your hips against him. you stare at choso’s face—beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead, and he whimpers. “your hips, ‘s killing me. so good,” and he’s just rambling to you by this point. it was adorable, the way his jaw would clench or tighten. the angle you had against him made his mind spiral. his cock reached deep, hitting all the right spots to even elicit a sweet moan or two from you as well.

choso’s panting, you playfully run a finger down his bare chest and he grunts. you had an compelling rhythm, making him only want you more. he lets off a sweet whine once you lean right up to his ear, whispering a sweet, “don’t be shy, baby. you can hold my hips.”

“fuck y-your voice ‘s gonna make me cum,” he babbles, bringing his rough hands towards your waist once more. he was so cute, far sensitive from his recent release. choso was gentle with his touch but his fingers were no stranger towards your body, roaming all over your hips sensually.

the sounds your pussy made in retaliation, squelch after squelch — it rang in his ears. it drove him dizzy, his mind was in for a loop.

choso’s eyes sexily roll back, and a tiny smile presses against his lips. you watch as he removes one hand from your waist, reaching above him to hold onto the headboard. his biceps, they curled and flexed and it made you stare a bit too long.

“how’s it feel? is it good?” you’d hum, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the corner of his mouth. his lips twitch, and it's so cute.

“you always make me feel good, princess,” he huffs out, one arm wrapping around you. your rhythm . . it was purely hypnotizing, you knew just how to take him.

so much of his inches burying into you, you made sure not to bounce your hips but grind. adding just a bit of pressure—he loves when you start to get a bit sloppy. the way he’s leaning back, it was unintentionally attractive.

it doesn’t take long before choso was approaching another heavily anticipated orgasm. he felt it, and he squeezed your hips with a cute needy look in his eyes. “i-i’m gonna make a mess again,” and his breathing cutely picks up. choso pulls you closer towards him. you don’t expect for him to bring his mouth towards your chest, softly lapping his tongue against your perky nipples. “gonna, ‘m gonna cum.”

“m-make a mess for me, baby,” you moaned, making your hips slow down just a bit so he could stimulate your nipples with his tongue. “it’s okay.”

your words were so smooth, he got off to simply your tone. it was building up and up—his thigh continued to bounce. and for yet a second time, he whimpers out once he feels himself pouring inside of you. a thick stringy load, ropes and ropes of his cum filling inside of your sweet cunt.

“f-fuck,” he’d whine, and it was as if everytime choso sweared, it made him ten times cuter. you giggle, panting yourself before kissing near his nose. choso’s eyes—he could barely keep them open. “ride me,” he pauses between his words, and you watch as he leans back, bringing a hand towards between your legs to feel his mess he created inside you. “ride me again, and a-again, and again….please.”

𖢺 NANAMI KENTO.

with nanami, he prefers for you to ride him whenever — especially whenever he gets home from work. a long tiring day at work, he loves coming home to you in hopes that you’d ride all of his pent up stress away. and you certainly do, happily.

“i missed my wife,” he’d grumble, and he was so knackered. you could hear it in his voice, whenever nanami was a bit drowsy his tone would deepen a bit. he was so tender with his touch against your hips. softly tracing against your skin to make you nearly lose your mind. “and i really missed these hips.”

you sat still with nanami’s dick being stuffed deep inside of your pussy. just a single move and he’d be even deeper. the thought of that made you salivate. he knew he was big just as much as you did. always the perfect size for you, never otherwise.

“good girl. get niiiice ‘n comfortable for me, okay?” and his words went straight down between your legs, you let off a moan once you buried your face into his neck. his strong scented cologne he had on all day at work wafts against your nose.

“okay…okay,” you’d mutter, feeling his big hands make its way towards your ass. he was always so handsy, allowing his rough hands to meander and roam all over your rear. you shiver a bit, feeling the coldness of his watch band run across your skin. “s-so big, kento.”

“ah. don’t hide that pretty face from me my love,” he’d purr, making you sit upright to face him. once you start to move—he grips your waist with one hand, another cupping your face.

nanami brings you into a loving kiss the moment you start to jerk your hips forward. you moan into his mouth, skimming your tongue against his and he even grunts lowly. a smile pokes near the corner of his lips before you hear him chuckle.

he adored how weak he had you for him, your hips stutter the more he swiftly runs a finger against your waist. once he pulls away, strings of pretty spit departing — he huffs out a sweet, “are you gonna move or do i have to do all the work like usual, sweetheart?”

“s-sorry,” you’d pant, and he was merely teasing. nanami simpers at the cute pout spreading on your lips and you start to adapt to a sweet sweet rhythm. he was so thick, stretching out your walls with such ease. nanami groans, he was still in his work clothes. long black slacks of his were just lazily pulled down and he had a button up shirt. his worn out collar was covered with nothing but a few smeared marks of your lipstick. “f-fuckkk, kento.”

nanami’s breath gets caught in his throat, feeling how wisely you used your hips against him. the lights in the room were dim. a few sweetened candles lit, the perfect romantic scene.

nanami stared at you with such a look of love, a soft smirk purses on his lips before he pulls you closer towards him.

“always know how to make me feel good, my love,” he murmurs against your ear. his voice was a low rasp. nanami’s face started to get a bit flustered once you started to moan directly into his ear. “i know, i knowww,” and he was talking you through everything in that smooth rich voice. it got you ten times wetter than you already were. you didn’t even know if that was possible. “keep looking at me, sweetheart. i wanna get lost in my wife’s pretty eyes.”

your started to whine once his dick reaches a pivotal spot. so deep, you feel him expand anywhere and everywhere like it was nothing. as you stared into his pretty brown eyes, you quickened your pace by a few simple thrusts. nanami returns your gaze, and he’s so in love that he can’t help but smile as you’re completely losing yourself on him.

“kento, k-kento, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you’d start to babble after a while—you felt a bit woozy, leaning into his neck to softly suck against his skin. you nipped near the inner part of his collarbone, and he lets off a low groan. nanami leans back a little, just a little… and once he feels you grind in a back and forth motion he nearly loses it. so slow, the repetitive motion made his jaw tighten. you slip out a whimper once his cock prods against your g-spot, and your hands yank onto the fabric of his shirt.

“the pretty girl’s gonna cum on me, hm?” nanami teases, feeling you spread your legs against him a little bit. he brings a kiss towards your chin before bringing both hands towards your waist again. “look at that face, so cute ‘n needy,” and he can’t help but kiss you again. as you rocked back and forth, rotating your hips in long circles . . . he starts to pant himself. you start to nibble on his tongue and he chuckles, squeezing your waist before you whimpered.

once you came, it was so powerful. a bundle of nerves coursing all through your veins—you were speechless, breaking away from his lips before wrapping your arms around nanami. he found it cute at how you came a bit earlier than usual, but nonetheless he still made sure to praise you. “what a good girl,” he mutters in a husky voice before softly caressing your ass. “my good girl.”

𖢺 GOJO SATORU.

“pft. girl pleaseee,” gojo scoffs with a snort. he was so sassy, way too sassy for even his own good. he leaned back against the chair as you straddled his lap. “you wanna ride me while i wear my blindfold? easy, knock yourself out.”

“and you can’t touch me either,” you roll your eyes at him. he snickers with an attitude, not used to people matching his cocky energy.

a pout goes on his lips before he mutters, “whatever….fine,” and it’s so cute. he loved touching you whenever you rode him, so you can just imagine how he’d act right now. gojo sits up straight, and he watches as you drag his blindfold that was half on his face—moving it right down to shield his eyes. he can practically feel you glaring at him and he grumbles. “i won’t cheat or try anything, hmph.”

“good satoru.”

“the nerve,” he grouses cutely. “shut up.”

gojo grows quiet the moment you start to align yourself, he was definitely long. long and lengthy, staggering inches that was enough to stretch you out for hours. not even a second goes by and he whines once you make him pin his arms back.

perhaps he was a bit too cocky though, because he desperately wanted to grab onto your waist whilst you rode him. his tip was leaky, dripping profusely with his own pre-cum. his breathing was slow, becoming a bit irregular once you started to gradually sink down on his length.

“aw. for the strongest, he’s got such a cute little pout.” you tease, and he lets off a choked gasp once you start to move. you’d bet money gojo was glaring at you - but his eyes were hidden away, so you’d have no idea.

that made you smile, he lets off a husky groan the moment he feels you create up a slow yet steady pace. whether he wanted to admit it or not, gojo was no match for your hips. your hips, probably the only thing he’d fight against and lose. proudly though, he loved having you on top—despite being a brat about it or not. “heh, baby, if you’re gonna fuck me, go faster would ya? ‘m gonna fall asleep at this r-rate.”

and he literally eats his words the moment you push him back against the cushion. he found you doing things like this to be so hot. your pussy had him in a chokehold, no doubt. your torso was upright and your thighs briefly moved with your movements in sync. this angle, it had his head spinning. he wanted to touch you so bad, to see your face — but he couldn’t, and it made him pout even more.

“mhm. lot better.”

“do you ever shut up?” you snicker, leaning in to kiss near the corn ever of his mouth.

“so r-rude,” he’d moan, and he had to admit he was always quite talkative. especially during intimate times like this. each time you pressed a wet kisses against his mouth, his lips would twitch. he wanted more and more, becoming entirely greedy for more of your sweet touch. he was so shoved deep inside you, you felt him reach everywhere. his dick twitched inside you in more ways than you could count. “lucky i can’t see you right now. bet you got the most s-stupidest look on your face.”

“maybe i should have taped your mouth shut too.” you roll your eyes, swaying your hips in a circular addicting motion. it made gojo moan, his thighs aching for more as you continuously went against him.

“damn, that’s—kinda kinky,” he murmurs in a low tone, huffing out a single breath. “maybe you should have.”

despite gojo putting up a pompous front, trying to act like he’s not about to cum for the umpteenth time—you kiss near his neck to make him let off a moan. “you wanna touch me so bad.”you whisper, licking near his neck to hear his breathing hitch. you’re steady with your hips, and he swallows thickly before feeling himself start to approach that familiar finish. you’re so pressed up against him, your body heat forevermore clashes against his. the moment you jerk forward for about the dozenth time, gojo whines before he ends up shooting inside your cunt.

he’s panting heavily, heaving as he trickles ropes inside of you — you moan yourself as he stays still. your hips pause and he feels the tips of his ears grow a scorching hot. “i can feel ya smiling at me,” he grumbles, his abs flexing the more huffed breaths he took. you smile, kissing underneath his chin for a final time before removing his blindfold. his hair was all messy and ruffled, and gojo’s face grows flustered. “…don’t look at me like that. i’d still top you any day.”

“okay, princess. whatever you say..”

“….”

𖢺 SUGURU GETO.

“go ahead ‘n lie back,” he murmurs in a soft smooth voice. a voice that had you soaking from underneath. your panties were still on, just barely though.

with strings lazily pulled to the side, you were propped up against geto and he has his chin softly resting on your collarbone.

“good girl,” he whispers once your back meets direct contact with his chest. by this point, you were basically cockwarming him. he stood tall and still inside you—geto groans, nipping a kiss near the inner part of your neck before uttering, “you have that toy i bought for you, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply. your voice was so shaky and soft. just a few touches from geto and you were easily stumbling over your words.

he feels you reach beside him, near the nightstand to grab the pretty pink wand he bought you as a surprise. not even wanting to waste time, you turn the switch on and with a loud buzz — it vibrates a singing tune.

“suguru,” you’d whimper out, trying to move your hips but he holds you steady in place. “can i move please?”

“you may,” he says in a low undertone. he brings a hand over you and grabs onto your wrist. you let off a moan once he holds the toy with you, bringing it between your achey clit. “spread your legs a little bit more for me. good, perfect.”

you gasp, feeling him gently rub the head of the toy against your clit whilst you were starting to grind. geto groans, feeling your left hand dig into his thigh.

“s-suguruuu,” you’d sob out, your lips cutely pursing together. he was very much thick, your thighs quivered and quavered from the sensitive stimulation. “fuck, ‘s good. turn it up a little more p-pretty please.”

he smiles, hearing you use such graceful manners like a good girl — his good girl.

geto goes through with your wish, turning the level up a single notch and you moan. sucking in a sharp breath, this position was so lewd. riding geto in reverse, it was heavily g-spot friendly. you went slow, moving your hips in the same recurrent rotation. it makes him bite his lip, his eyes flickering down towards your ass.

“so good for me,” he whispers against your ear. yet that’s when geto pulls you closer into him, biting softly near your neck. the vibrations had you trembling all in his lap, every nerve throughout your body, you felt its presence introduce itself.

geto snickers, feeling you grab onto his hand, moving the toy up and down against the entrance of your clit. in such a sensual manner too—he starts to whisper such filthy things against your ear while you’re getting off. “hear how wet you are for me, baby? so sloppy. pussy’s just talkin’ back to me. no fuckin’ manners, ‘s kinda cute.”

his words, it was so dirty.

you could barely process anything. you panted, staring right in front where a mirror was stood tall. the lewd reflection of you, you’re laid back against geto’s bare chest, slowly rotating your hips. your legs start to shake more and more from the toy’s vibration. teeth clenching, eyelids lowering, it was purely euphoric..

geto’s knees were raised just a bit to better support himself, and he brings a hand around your waist. his touch, it never failed to make you weak. he filled your pussy up with so many thick inches of his cock, his girth nearly had you drooling.

“easy, girl,” he whispers once you start to fasten your pace a bit. you were getting so close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. his words stirred up butterflies in your stomach, and you moan once geto moves the toy aside just to take matters into his own hands. he starts to rub against your slick entrance himself, feeling just how soaked you were, mindlessly throbbing.

if it was anything geto was good with, it was his fingers. he snickers against your ear, maneuvering sweet circles against your cunt before your thighs start to lock and tremble. by this point, you were slowing down and you whimpered, feeling a familiar feeling brew up.

milliseconds later, he coaxed an orgasm out of you like it was nothing. your body felt limp, and you cutely went back against him, pant after pant. “awww,” geto hums, and his dick remains still inside of you. geto removed his lengthy fingers, only to bring them towards your face. “open wide for me, baby. taste how much of a mess you made on me,” and without a second of hesitation, you part your lips, moving your tongue, and take his fingers right into your mouth. you moaned, making your hips start up again because you wanted more — it was salacious, tasting your sweetness all on his fingers, lapping it up. “such a messy baby. should make you clean my cock up next with that pretty tongue of yours.”

𖢺 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

with toji, he’d have you riding him whilst he’s watching some movie or tv show. it’s playing in the background, and he has to keep turning the volume up notch after notch to drown out your cute moans. “doll, y’er gonna make me miss the good part.”

you huff out a single hitched breath, wrapping your arms over him. it was your idea to ride him, he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. toji was smoking too — a perfectly rolled up blunt sticking out near the corner of his lips. toji brings a rough hand towards your head, giving you a stiff pat.

he was so big, regardless of how many countless times you took him. you could never get used to his size. his cock stretched your walls out so easily, it had you drooling for more.

his base thwacked against you the more you piston your hips, moving back and forth in a repetitive rhythm. toji’s attention was mainly focused on the movie, a raspy chortle leaving his lips from the cheesy written dialogue.

he spots you glaring at him and he smirks. “what? can’t you see i’m busy.”

“pay attention to me,” you whine, and toji only snickers at your cute needy tone. your pussy wrapped around him, a tight snug and an even more perfect fit. your rhythm was smooth, it was a perfect mixture of not too slow — yet not too fast either.

as you stared into toji’s dark eyes, his senses was severely heightened and he takes the blunt from his lips before raising a brow. “gimme a kiss.”

“eh. don’t gotta give you shit,” he mocks your tone, making a pout form in your lips. he was such an insufferable tease, his left hand spanks your ass sharply, earning out a sweet whimper from you. toji caresses it afterwards, only to spank it again. “say pretty please. go ‘head, talk to me nice, little girl.”

you cutely glare before looking down, clawing near his perfectly toned chest. “i— can i have a kiss, pretty please?”

“it’s may i, not can i.”

“toji!”

he slyly smiles, rolling his dark green eyes. “i’m just fuckin’ with you,” and he brings a hand towards your ass yet again. his touch was so smooth, tracing your curves gingerly all against your waist. “c’mere ’n open y’er mouth.” he was balls deep, buried to the hilt and he lightly groans from feeling your warmth swallow him.

you were so toasty inside, you inch closer towards his face before opening your mouth slightly. toji licks his lips briefly, his tongue dragging against his scar before he blows smoke right into your mouth. you whine again from his teasing and he smirks. “oh. the baby’s still not satisfied?”

“want a kiss,” you pout, your weight just hovering over him. he felt your rhythm slow down and he chuckles — seeing you grow frustrated with your eyebrows curling into an irritated furrow. toji grabs your chin, and he pulls you right into him. you moaned, feeling him smack your ass to start riding him again. “t-toji please.”

“such a needy baby. always wanting a kiss,” and he gives you that kiss you so desperately yearned for. you whimper in his mouth, tasting how sweet he was. he places his blunt back near his tray and you were handsy, wrapping both arms over him. he chuckles, feeling you start to rock against him, his swollen cock was so fat inside of you—you just imagined the thought of him dumping yet another sloppy load into you. toji grunts, feeling you start to suck on his tongue, he leans back against the sofa while you deepen the kiss even further.

he groans, a hand curling around your throat, softly running a finger down the middle part of your neck before he briefly pulls away. toji’s eyes were half-lidded and right before he was about to finish inside of you, he pushes you aside to stare at the movie. black end credits were rolling and he grumbles. “tch. made me miss the ending.”

“s-sorry.” you mumble, catching your breath. you clearly wanted more . . still, he was stuffing you full with thick inches of his cock. you let off a gasp once toji lightly jostled you off of him. you land with a ‘oof’ — face flat on the sofa before he brings your ass a spank.

“yeah right,” he grumbles, grabbing his blunt again to stick it right between his teeth. he sucks through the air of the joint before groaning at your teasing arch. “know one way you can make it up to me. jus’ bend over ‘n face straight just for me, girl.”

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shy-sapphic-ace · 1 year ago

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A Night In Venice

(a short story I wrote)

In Italy, a certain time ago (though it still stands today, I'm sure) there was a city called Venice. It was beautiful, and lively, with its old buildings and old statues and canals and gondolas. It was old, yes, but also full of life.

And in that city, there lived a girl.

Her name was Eleanor, but she preferred to be called Lea. She was looking for the mayor, who was her brother. But she couldn't find him, so she wandered the streets of Venice in search of him.

This was a little difficult for her, as the streets of the town were quite busy that night. You see, that night there was a carnival, a procession of dancers and singers in masks and costumes parading down the streets. It was always some carnival or another in Venice... Venetians loved their carnivals.

(Do they still today? I haven't been there is so long.)

Lea walked, and walked, through the masquerade and the costumed dancers and the merchants by the street-side and the gondolas in the canal, and she met some people.

On her way, she met a baker, her apron covered in flour and sugar in her sandy-blonde hair. Her eyes were warm and cheerful.

"Hello," said the baker. "Would you care for a pastry?"

"No thank you," said Lea, looking at the display in the bakery's window. "But they look delicious."

In the window, she saw cakes of every height imaginable; icing of every colour, with sugar-spun flowers gently resting atop little cupcakes and jam tarts and chocolate croissants, nut pies and berry pies and fruit pies and cream pies, large loaves of bread and twisted pretzels, bumpy buns and round flatbreads and long baguettes, sugar-dusted doughnuts with colourful sprinkles and cookies with nuts and raisins and chocolate and dry, crispy biscuits ready to be dipped in hot tea or warm chocolate.

"Have you seen the mayor?" Lea asked once she turned away from the window. "I'm looking for him."

"Oh, yes! I did," the baker smiled. "He went over there, I believe."

She pointed down the street.

"And here," the baker added, "for you. Good luck finding him!"

She gave Lea a little sweet, wrapped in white-and-gold paper.

"Oh," said Lea, "thank you!"

She ate the sweet, which tasted like honey and meted on her tongue, and she walked on.

"Come, come join us," cried a dancer who was wearing a bird's mask, feathered in brown and grey and white. His arms were hidden under feathers so thick they could have been wings, and he had a grey feathery tail. "Dance with us!"

"I'd love to," said Lea, "but I have to find the mayor. Have you seen him?"

But the dancer had already twirled away, flapping his arms like wings.

So she walked on.

She walked on, and she met an old woman.

The old woman had long, straight grey hair that hung heavy on her shoulders and she was sitting on a small bench, holding a bag of breadcrumbs and feeding the pigeons that fluttered at her feet.

"Hello," said Lea.

"Hello," said the old woman. She turned to Lea and gave her a small, wrinkled smile. Her eyes were a startling, bright blue.

"Do you know if the mayor came this way?" Lea asked. "I'm looking for him."

A pigeon flew up onto the bench beside the old woman as she thought.

The old woman nodded. "He stopped to feed the pigeons a moment, and then I believe he left to go that way." She pointed down the street, towards a bookshop. "Would you like to feed the pigeons?"

"Alright," said Lea, "but not for long."

She took a handful of breadcrumbs from the old woman's bag and scattered them on the ground. The pigeons flapped towards the bread and cooed.

One pigeon landed on her shoulder. Lea laughed, and it flapped back down in alarm.

"I should go," Lea said. "Thank you."

The old woman hummed. "Thank you as well."

So she walked on.

"Come," said a dancer, dressed all in yellow with a sun-shaped mask and ribbons hanging from their arms like streamers that flapped when they moved. "Dance with us!"

"No, thank you," said Lea. "I have somewhere to be."

The sun dancer shrugged and moved away.

So she walked on.

On her way, she met the bookseller, standing outside his shop.

"Hello," said the bookseller with a friendly smile and a wave. "It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"It is." Lea returned his smile.

"Would you care to come in my shop and see my books?" He asked. "I'm sure I have something you might like."

Lea looked at the shop, and she saw warm light coming from inside. There were a few people there, browsing the shelves and taking out books and placing them back.

"I have books that could make you sail the seas," the bookseller said. "I have books that could help you leave everything behind, and live between their pages instead. You could touch the sky and taste the clouds. You could fight beasts of old and fall in love in a hundred different ways. You could shiver with fear or you could laugh with joy. You could live the legends of eons past or see the future through another's mind. Won't you come sample my books?"

"That sounds lovely," Lea said with a small smile. It did. "But I have somewhere I must be. Please, tell me; have you seen the mayor?"

"Why, I have," nodded the bookseller. "He passed by not so long ago. He went in that direction."

The bookseller pointed down the street.

"Thank you!" Lea said brightly. "Enjoy the evening."

So she walked on.

"Oh, won't you dance with us?" Asked a dancer, face hidden behind a flat, square mask, painted half pale purple and half grey, with clothes similarly split between the two colours. The mask's eye-holes were so thin Lea couldn't see the eyes behind, and a large white hat hid their hair. "Come, join the celebration!"

"I'd love to," said Lea, "but I have somewhere to be. Do you know where the mayor is? I'm looking for him..."

But the dancer had already turned away, arm in arm with another masked stranger.

So she walked on.

She walked on, and she met a painter, standing on the side of the street and painting something on an easel with various paintings leaning on the wall behind her.

The finished paintings on the wall were lovely to look at; Lea saw a sunset, so low that the sun was a red sliver on the horizon and the sky had faded to a quiet purple and black. Little sprays of white paint were splattered on the sky like stars, and the top half of the painting was mirrored in a rippling reflection on the lake below the sun.

Another painting on the wall was of people at the carnival; they had colourful masks of all shapes (long and thin and round and square) and equally colourful clothes of all patterns (diamonds and spots and checkers and stripes). The people in the painting were all dancing; the moon bright and full above the canal behind them as they twisted and turned like wisps of smoke, captured in the painting like a moment snatched from time.

A third painting was of the canal during the day; but there were no people in it. There were gondolas floating in the water, unmoored and empty, and the water looked flat and calm. The whole painting was in shades of blue and grey, the brightest blue being the sky overhead and the dullest grey being the empty gondolas.

Another painting was of a woman in a dark blue dress. Her back was turned and so was her head, her arms outstretched up, up, so that her fingertips just brushed the top of the canvas. Her hair was painted the palest yellow, almost white, and it flew loose and untied around the woman's shoulders. Her dress was flying in an unknown wind, too, and the canvas behind her was simply painted in a few different shades of green. The shapes in the distance might have been hills, or mountains, or perhaps a forest.

The last painting was still on the easel, unfinished, and the painter was peering at it.

The painter had light brown hair, pulled up in a black cap, and sky-blue eyes. No... sea-blue eyes. Grey, green, blue, always shifting. She had a scattering of little paint droplets on her face that looked a little like freckles. There was paint on her clothes and hands as well.

"Oh, hello," she said once she noticed Lea.

Lea waved. "Your paintings are lovely," she said.

"Thank you," said the painter. "Tell me, what do you think of this one?" She pointed, with her paintbrush, to the easel in front of her and went back to mixing paint on her palette.

The painting was of a woman, from the waist up. She was wearing a brown vest over an olive-green shirt and was holding up a white feathery quill. Her skin was painted the richest brown and her hair was charcoal black, curling to her shoulders. Her eyes were grey, dark, and mysterious. She seemed to be staring into the distance, lost in thought. The paint on the eyes and hair was still wet.

"Beautiful," Lea said, amazed. "Who is she?"

"I love her," said the painter with a sigh. She added another shade of black over the hair on the painting. "But I cannot seem to get her hair right. Her hair is raven's wing black; this is charcoal black. It doesn't softly reflect the light of the moon as she does. I can't seem to finish the painting, just as I can't confess my love."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Lea suggested. "Show her the painting. I'm sure she'll love it."

"Ah," said the painter, "but I couldn't. It's unfinished, you see. The hair isn't quite perfect and I can't seem to catch that sparkle in her eye as she concentrates."

"Oh," said Lea.

"Her words are beautiful, and perfect, as she is." The painter lowered the brush and inspected the result. "I would need for this painting to be just as beautiful and perfect for me to believe it worthy of her."

"I see. Well, good luck," Lea said. "Have you seen the mayor? I'm looking for him."

"I think he want that way," the painter said, pointing down the street, to a shop with flowers around its entrance.

"Thank you!" Said Lea. "I hope you can finish your painting."

"Thank you," said the painter, swirling purple and black and blue and grey together into the colour of a raven's wing, "and I hope you find the mayor."

So she walked on.

"Join the dance!" Called a dancer, her long red-and-white striped dress swirling around her ankles. She wore a white half-mask, covering one eye and cheek. Her hair was dark brown and tied into a loose braid. She extended a red gloved hand to Lea.

"I'm sorry," said Lea. "I can't. But I'm looking for the mayor. Do you know where he is?"

But the dancer shook her head and shrugged. "No. But forget about him— just dance!"

"No thank you," said Laura. "Enjoy your evening!"

The dancer twirled away, skirts swishing.

So she walked on.

She walked on, and she met a florist, selling his flowers in front of his shop.

"Hello," said the florist. "Might I interest you in some flowers?"

"Hello," said Lea. "No thank you. I'm just looking for the mayor. Have you seen him?"

"Hmm. Let me think." The florist scratched his red-brown beard, considering.

While he thought, Lea looked at his flowers.

They were beautiful, and looked as if they had been freshly picked; there were the reddest roses and the most vibrantly orange carnations and the yellowest tulips and the greenest stems and the bluest cornflowers and the brightest purple violets and the whitest lilies. They all smelled like the richest of perfumes.

"Your flowers are lovely," Lea said with a smile.

"Thank you," proudly replied the florist. "And I do recall seeing the mayor; he went that way."

The florist pointed down the street, towards a small café with tables overlooking the canal.

So she walked on.

"Dance with us!" Said a dancer who stopped in front of her for a moment, a young man with black-and-purple patterned clothes and a long black cape, with dark skin and eyes and hair and a round, swirling purple mask that covered his eyes and forehead. "Come on!"

"I'd love to, really," Lea said with a smile. "But I'm looking for the mayor. I have to find him."

The dancer tilted his head at her, but then pointed down the street, pointing to the same café the florist had pointed at.

"Thank you," Lea said, and the young man bowed and turned, cape swishing, to re-join the other dancers.

So she walked on.

She walked on, and she met a poet, sitting at a small table in the café that had a nice view of the canal.

On the table in front of the poet, there were many papers strewn about, most covered in writing and splashes of ink. The poet had skin of the richest brown, and raven's wing black hair that caught the moonlight when she shook her head. There were ink stains on her fingers.

"Hello," said Lea, walking up to the table.

"Hello," said the poet, looking up. She handed Lea a paper. "Does this seem right to you?"

Lea read the paper. It said;

Your hands have the skill of a creator You shape with those hands, worlds Worlds of beauty, of life Of sadness, of strife I see in your eyes inspiration, vision And I think, my love, Would you let me hold those hands Those hands that shape my life?

"Oh," said Lea, handing the paper back. "It's lovely."

"But is it perfect?" The poet sighed, placing the paper back down and picking up another. She crossed out a few words on that one and started writing again. "I can never quite find the right words. They slip through my fingers like the wind slips through the tall grass; teasing, just barely there, and it just doesn't sound like I'd want it to."

"I think it's rather beautiful, still," Lea says. "But I'm not a poet. I suppose you'd know best."

"I love her," sighs the poet. "But I cannot seem to find the words to tell her. I write her poem after poem, word after word, but I never have a poem perfect enough to give to her. She paints, she creates art, she puts beauty into the world; I want the words I write for her to be as breathtaking and perfect as she is."

"I see," Lea said. "Well, good luck. I'm looking for the mayor; have you seen him?"

"Oh, I think I did," the poet said. "I believe he went that way."

She pointed to the left side of the street, to a little shop with someone sitting outside it.

"Thank you," Lea said. "I hope you can find the right words."

"Thank you," said the poet, and she turned back to her paper, writing, I would climb to the heavens and pick all the stars for you if you needed them to mix into your paint. Then she placed the paper aside and picked up a new one.

So she walked on.

"Join the dance!" Offered a dancer in a forest-green dress, long-sleeved and high-collared, with frills from the waist down. They smiled from beneath their green-gray mask that was shaped a little like an upside-down triangle, with leaves and small vines tangled in their waist-length red hair.

"No, thank you," Lea said. "I can't right now. I'm looking for..."

But the dancer had already glided away to twirl around someone else.

So she walked on.

She walked on, and she met a clock-maker. He was an old, wizened man with a long beard and small glasses, sitting on a chair outside his shop and tinkering with a watch as he watched the people dancing.

"Hello," he said when she walked up to him. "How are you?"

"I'm well," she said. "Thank you. And you?"

The old man chuckled, fishing a little gear out of the watch with a small pair of tweezers. "I'm all right, I suppose." He hummed. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

"It does," Lea agreed.

"You still have so much time left," he said, peering at her over his small glasses. Then he looked down again and twisted something in the watch. "Best not to let it fly away too soon, eh? Though it doesn't very much like being kept in a cage. In my experience, I've found that it's best to simply make friends with time, and it'll fly by your side at an easy pace."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Lea said. "Have you seen the mayor? I've been looking for him."

"Yes, he was headed that way," the clock-maker said with a smile, pointing down the street.

"Thank you!" Said Lea, and she continued on her way while the clockmaker wondered why it was that on carnival nights, time that flew and rushed seemed to stop, and let the night dragged on, as if it, too, wanted to wait as dance a while with the music and life of the carnival.

So she walked on.

"Hey!" Called a fiddler, who was playing a catchy and upbeat tune for the dancers to spin to. "Come join the dance, won't you?"

He was wearing blue clothes, lined in silver, and a silver mask that was lined in blue; the mask covered his forehead, his right eye, and his right cheek. He was wearing a large blue cap that flopped to the side, and his golden hair was tied back in a short ponytail at the base of his neck.

At his side, there was a flute player, who nodded at her in acknowledgement but didn't stop playing. He was wearing red clothes, lined in gold, and a gold mask, lined in red. His mask was the opposite of the fiddler's, and hair was brown and short.

"Oh, I can't," Lea said. "I'm looking for the mayor. But your music is lovely."

The fiddler laughed, and played even faster, and the dancers around them spun faster and exchanged partners again and again.

"I don't know where he is," the fiddler said, "but he probably went to the inn— it's that way."

He gestured with his chin to the inn at the end of the street.

"Thank you!" Lea said, and she went in that direction.

So she walked on.

She went to the inn; she didn't need to enter, however, since she saw her brother, the mayor, coming out and laughing about something.

"Oh!" He said when he noticed her coming her way. "Lea! Hello. What are you doing here?"

She rushed to embrace him. "Nothing really. I just wanted to see you."

He laughed again and embraced her back. "All right," he said with a smile. "And now you've seen me. What now?"

"Let's dance!" She said, taking his hand and pulling him towards the celebrations.

So they danced.

(And time danced alongside them, enjoying itself so much that the night stretched on, and on, and on.)

#just a lil thing I wrote and wanted to share :)#this is mostly me having fun inventing characters?#and this is vaguely inspired by the movie “the painting” I watched a while ago #cause I really loved the scene where they went in the carnival #anyway I'm not great at names so they're almost all nameless that's just what they're called in my head #oh! also I'm curious is it obvious who the narrator is?#edit: wait uhhh have I posted this already?? I might have my memory is terrible #this is an updated version anyway I guess #I fixed some typos I found and stuff

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