#and letting it dissolve into chaos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

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SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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faebled-stories · 2 months ago

Text

Behind The Wall

Kinkvember Day 8: Glory Hole

Le Sserafim Huh Yunjin

6.5k words

Yunjin sank into the deep, velvet embrace of her couch, the cushions softening her exhausted frame as she let out a long, weary sigh. The echoes of the day's cacophony—cheering fans, thumping music, and sharp camera clicks—still pulsed faintly in her ears.

The life of an idol was dazzling but relentless; every hour meticulously scheduled, every move choreographed to perfection. The glitter of stage lights, interviews under glaring lamps, and the constant churn of photo shoots were exhilarating but exacted a toll. It was as if her very soul teetered on a tightrope, balancing the shimmering allure of fame against the shadow of burnout.

Through the vast floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s neon lights painted strokes of pink, blue, and gold across her apartment walls. Seoul’s night buzzed with energy; cars zipped by, people chattered and laughed, their figures flitting like restless fireflies. The symphony of life outside mocked her solitude, reminding her of the world that saw her only as an untouchable idol, never as Yunjin, the young woman who craved the freedom to simply be.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she swept her gaze over the cluttered coffee table, its surface strewn with fan mail written in colorful inks, glossy pamphlets of upcoming events, and stacks of formal letters from the agency. Her slender fingers traced absent patterns over the scattered papers, seeking something familiar in the chaos. But then, her touch stopped on an envelope that was different. It was plain, with none of the bright markings or logos she’d expected—no sender's name, no return address, just an unassuming square of paper.

The whisper of the paper crinkling as she opened it seemed magnified in the stillness. The note inside was concise, starkly so, and as her eyes scanned the words, a shiver danced along her spine:

"Looking to escape the ordinary? We offer complete anonymity. No names, no faces—just pure freedom. For those seeking a way out, come explore a world where nothing else matters."

A URL was printed below in small, unembellished text, as though any flourish might disrupt the message’s secrecy. Yunjin flipped the paper over, searching for more—an explanation, a clue to its sender—but found nothing. The edges of the note bit into her palm as her mind wrestled with intrigue and apprehension.

Her heart thudded as she glanced around her penthouse, its luxury and perfection suddenly feeling like a gilded cage. The idea of complete anonymity was as tantalizing as it was foreign. A place where her name, face, and reputation held no sway, where the burden of fame could be shed like a second skin—was such a thing even possible?

The glow of her phone lit her face as she typed the URL. The screen flickered to life, revealing a minimalist site with no distractions, no images, just a few lines of cryptic text. It spoke of an exclusive venue, a secret haven where identities dissolved, and people interacted without pasts or future judgments. A chill coursed down her arms as she read it again, each word stoking the embers of a rebellious thought that crackled within her.

She pressed her lips together, the decision forming like storm clouds in her mind. Her usual caution warred with a desperate hunger for escape. For once, she wouldn’t run it by her manager or think about potential repercussions. She would be just Yunjin, unknown and unseen.

Shaking fingers rummaged through her closet, pushing past glamorous gowns and performance outfits until she found a pair of dark jeans and a plain black hoodie. She slipped them on, the soft fabric foreign in its ordinariness. Her reflection in the mirror was almost startling—gone were the shimmering eyeshadow, sculpted features, and immaculate hair. Instead, a girl with wide, determined eyes looked back. She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and donned a baseball cap, tucking wayward strands beneath it. Oversized sunglasses completed the disguise, shadowing her face despite the evening hour.

A small crossbody bag held her essentials, including the mysterious envelope and her phone, which she silenced before sliding it in. The muffled tick of the clock punctuated her hesitation, but the thrum in her chest urged her forward. The night was cool when she stepped out, the city’s breath washing over her as if daring her to blend into the current of people and lights.

Flagging down a cab felt like a small act of rebellion, its ordinary nature grounding her as the car hummed to life and pulled away from the curb. The rhythmic roll of the tires lulled her into contemplation. Streetlights cast fleeting halos on her window, the cityscape warping and softening in the glass’s reflection. She watched as neon signs, bustling restaurants, and late-night strollers gave way to quieter streets lined with shuttered shops and shadowed alleyways.

When the cab stopped in front of an unremarkable building, her pulse quickened. It stood under a flickering street lamp, modest and nondescript, its façade promising nothing yet holding everything she yearned for.

Yunjin paid the driver and stepped onto the cracked pavement, the city's hum receding to a low murmur. A sudden breeze lifted the edge of her hood as she pulled it lower, shielding herself from the scant light. The air tasted electric, anticipation sharp on her tongue.

This was it—a chance to disappear, to step into the unknown. The final glance over her shoulder was reflexive, a look at the life she was about to abandon, if only for a fleeting moment. With a deep breath, Yunjin pushed open the heavy door and let the shadows swallow her whole, a small smile curving her lips as the echo of her world fell away.

At the front desk, a woman with a soft, welcoming smile looked up, her glasses perched delicately on the tip of her nose, glinting under the warm glow of the overhead light. She exuded an air of quiet confidence, her poised demeanor a result of years of greeting visitors who approached with curiosity, nerves, or both.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice calm, warm, and practiced, like the embrace of a familiar song. The subtle scent of jasmine lingered in the air, a comforting contrast to the thundering beat of Yunjin’s heart. Sensing her demeanor the lady continued “First time?”

Yunjin gulped, the lump in her throat making her voice feel small and fragile. “Yes,” she replied, her tone soft and almost wavering, as if any louder would betray the torrent of emotions coursing through her.

The woman’s eyes, sharp yet kind, softened with a knowing glimmer as she slid a clipboard toward Yunjin across the polished, dark wood of the counter. The faint slide of paper against wood felt louder than it was, reverberating in Yunjin’s heightened state. “No worries, it’s all straightforward here. Just sign this waiver, and let me explain the options.” The receptionist’s tone was even, her words crafted to soothe. The clipboard itself seemed ordinary but held a gravity Yunjin wasn’t prepared for—a silent gateway between the ordinary and the unknown.

Yunjin's eyes dropped to the clipboard, the neatly printed text blurring slightly as her thoughts raced. The room felt warm, her breath shallow as she fought to calm herself. The woman’s voice interrupted her reverie, a steady anchor to the moment. “You can choose to give pleasure or receive it—whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

Yunjin’s pulse quickened, the choice startling in its simplicity yet weighted with implications. The muffled hum of distant music reached her ears, blending with the low thrum of blood rushing through her veins. She hadn’t anticipated the tension, the sudden clarity required for this decision.

“Um…” The hesitation hung between them, a breath caught in time. Yunjin’s gaze flickered from the clipboard to the woman’s reassuring eyes, and before she could rethink it, the words fell from her lips. “I’ll… give first.”

A smile curved the receptionist’s lips, gentle and knowing. She collected the clipboard once Yunjin had signed her name, fingers brushing lightly over the polished wood. “Great,” she said with a finality that both steadied and excited Yunjin. “Once you’re ready, head to the back, and follow the instructions inside. Take your time.” The words resonated like a promise, rich with unspoken possibilities.

Yunjin's feet felt both light and weighted as she moved through the hallway, each step echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The corridor was lined with antique sconces that cast warm, flickering light, their glow reminiscent of gas lamps from another era. The scent of aged wood and varnish wrapped around her, steeped in a history of whispered secrets and uncharted desires.

The booth she entered was compact, almost intimate, its wooden frame dark with age and rich with a subtle scent of cedar. Faint scratches marred the surface, stories untold but felt through the marks of time. Yunjin adjusted herself on the worn seat, the old wood creaking beneath her slight movements. The small space was a capsule of warmth and nervous energy, making the moment feel both surreal and thrilling.

A deep breath filled her lungs as she closed her eyes, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. The booth's walls seemed to close in protectively, muting the world outside and intensifying her awareness of herself. The anticipation coiled within her, electric and alive, as she opened herself up to whatever came next, ready to step across the invisible threshold and into the unknown.

Suddenly, a slight movement near her face broke her concentration. Her gaze shifted and there it was—a small, round hole in the partition between booths, a portal to the unknown. Through it, the tip of a penis slowly emerged, its presence both startling and enticing. The anonymity of the situation only added to the allure, as Yunjin found herself face to face with the mystery of a man she could neither see nor touch, save for this intimate connection.

The member that presented itself through the partition was of a decent size, neither intimidating nor meek. It commanded Yunjin's attention, a silent invitation to a dance of lust and longing. With a deep breath, she reminded herself to take her time, to explore and savor the experience. She was an artist, and this was her canvas.

As she leaned in, the warmth of her lips met the head of the cock with a gentle, yet commanding touch. Her technique was impeccable, a result of years of honing her craft. A low groan from the other side of the partition confirmed her skill, and a surge of empowerment washed over her. She was in control, a maestro conducting an orchestra of desire.

With each slide of her mouth, her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his member, eliciting a symphony of responses from the stranger. His breathing grew heavier, punctuating the air with anticipation. The twitching of his member within her mouth was a silent testament to her mastery, a sign that she was navigating the dance of desire with expert precision.

Yunjin's own moans began to mingle with the stranger's labored breaths, a chorus that filled the small, private space. She couldn't deny the pleasure she found in this unconventional tryst. There was a unique thrill in the anonymity, a liberation in the act of pleasuring someone whose face she would never know. It was a connection that transcended the physical, rooted in the raw and real exchange of passion.

The pace of her actions increased, her head bobbing with growing urgency, the wet sounds of her endeavors a testament to the fervor of the moment. She could sense the stranger's tension mounting, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged as he approached the precipice of release.

As the tension escalated, Yunjin sensed the subtle changes in the man's breathing—a mix of shallow, quick breaths escalating into a desperate, primal rhythm. The air grew thick with anticipation, and her heart pounded in sync with his. The cock in her mouth, already swollen with arousal, seemed to pulse with an electric charge, signaling the inevitable. His body tensed, muscles rigid as his climax built to an unstoppable crescendo. With just a whisper of warning, the stranger's control slipped away. A guttural, low growl vibrated through his chest, primal and raw, echoing in the confined space around them. Then, the release. It came like a warm, forceful flood, his hot, salty essence filling Yunjin's mouth with a sudden rush. She felt the throbbing intensify, each pulse delivering more of his essence, hot and thick against her tongue. Yunjin, caught in the wave of his ecstasy, swallowed eagerly, the flavors mixing in her mouth—salty, slightly bitter, yet uniquely intimate. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation, her own arousal amplifying as she savored the taste, the heat, the sheer intimacy of the act. As he reached his peak, she could feel the tension in his body slowly ebbing away, the throbbing now a slower, gentler rhythm. The cock in her mouth began to soften, no longer the rigid rod of before, but yielding, becoming more pliable. Yunjin held him there, her lips and tongue still caressing, prolonging the connection. The afterglow of his climax lingered on her taste buds as she gently released him with a soft wet pop, her lips tracing a soft path along the now relaxed shaft, leaving a trail of warmth. The moment, intense and fleeting, left them both in a haze of satisfaction, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

A murmured thanks floated through the hole, a small acknowledgment of the intense connection they had shared, however fleeting. Yunjin took a moment to catch her breath, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the encounter.

Despite the fleeting nature of their interaction, Yunjin felt a profound bond with the faceless man on the other side of the wall. It was a bond forged by mutual pleasure and vulnerability, a memory that would linger long after the carnival lights had dimmed.

Just as she began to compose herself, another surprise awaited her. From a different opening in the partition, a second shaft appeared—this one significantly larger and more imposing. Yunjin's breath hitched in her throat as she eyed the newcomer with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. The first encounter had been a warm-up, but this? This was a challenge.

She hesitated, pondering if she could accommodate such a size, but the thrill of the challenge won out. With a cautious but determined glance, she edged closer to the second hole. Yunjin was ready to take the ride.

As she steeled herself, Yunjin's gaze was locked on the formidable appendage that stood before her. It was a symbol of virility and power, and she was determined to conquer it. With a deep breath, she leaned forward, her heart pounding like a drumline in her chest. The moment of contact was electric; her soft lips met the massive head of the cock, and a surge of warmth and intensity coursed through her. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation as she focused all her strength and concentration on the task ahead.

The journey had begun, and Yunjin was committed to seeing it through. She slid her lips down the lengthy shaft, each inch a testament to her determination. The cock throbbed and pulsed in her mouth, a living embodiment of the challenge she had accepted. It was a tight fit, pushing the limits of her oral cavity, and she could feel her throat constricting as she valiantly attempted to accommodate more of the imposing member.

Gagging and sputtering were inevitable, but Yunjin's will was made of sterner stuff. She refused to yield, pushing herself further, taking in more and more until she felt the cock hit the back of her throat. The sensation was overwhelming, but she welcomed it, pausing only to adjust before resuming her rhythmic motion. Her head bobbed back and forth, the cock sliding in and out of her mouth with practiced ease, a dance of passion and perseverance.

The thrill of the challenge was intoxicating. Yunjin's pulse raced with excitement as she deepthroats the massive cock, each thrust a declaration of her own capabilities. She was acutely aware of the wet patch growing on her panties, a visible sign of her arousal, as she moaned softly, the sound muffled by the object of her conquest. She was lost in the moment, her world narrowed to the feeling of being completely filled, completely consumed by the task at hand.

Her determination was not in vain. The man's body tensed, his breaths became labored gasps, and Yunjin knew she had driven him to the brink. The moment of truth arrived as his dick twitched and pulsed in her mouth, releasing a torrent of cum. She swallowed quickly, striving to keep up with the force of his ejaculation, but the sheer volume was overwhelming. Cum splashed against the back of her throat, overflowed, and covered her chin, dripping down her chest in a testament to her efforts.

Yunjin, a woman of remarkable poise and sensuality, found herself in a scenario that would have left many reeling. She had just concluded an intense session with two well-endowed partners, each man bringing his own brand of fervor and demanding her full attention and physicality. The encounter had been a marathon of pleasure and exertion, pushing Yunjin to the brink of her sexual prowess. Yet, as the second man withdrew, spent and satisfied, Yunjin was faced with an unanticipated third act.

Through the other hole stood another man, his desire evident and his anticipation palpable. His penis, while not as imposing as the ones that had preceded it, still presented a challenge. Yunjin, ever the consummate lover, was not one to back down from a challenge. She understood that satisfaction comes in many sizes and that her journey was far from over.

With a deep breath to center herself, Yunjin leaned in, her eyes locked onto his member as she took the whole cock easily into her mouth. The warmth of his flesh against her lips was a familiar sensation, yet it brought with it a new set of expectations. She was determined to lavish upon this man the same meticulous attention that she had given to the others, to bring him to the heights of pleasure despite the lingering sensation of fullness that still resonated within her from her previous encounters.

As she worked her magic, the man's response was immediate and visceral. He quickly reached his climax, and Yunjin braced herself for what was to come. To her astonishment, his orgasm was voluminous, exceeding even the generous offerings of the two men before him, combined. The warm, thick salty liquid hit the back of her throat with a force that caused her gag reflex to activate, the excess spilling out of her mouth and trickling down her chin.

The sensation was overwhelming, and Yunjin made a swift decision. She couldn’t take any more inside of her; she had reached her limit. Instead, she guided the man to finish all over her face. With her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she surrendered to the sensory overload. The cum splattered in waves across her face, marking her porcelain skin and staining her crimson hair with ropes of his essence. It dripped down her neck, leaving trails that soaked into her LE SSERAFIM top, a badge of honor from her latest conquest..

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Yunjin. Here she was, a woman who had always prided herself on her control and composure, covered in the evidence of her sexual escapades. Yet, far from feeling debased, she felt empowered. The sensation was strange, yet not unpleasant, and in the midst of the chaos, she found a moment of quiet appreciation for the extremes to which her body and mind could be pushed.

As the man caught his breath and pulled away, Yunjin opened her eyes. A smile played across her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the journey she had just completed. She had not only endured but had triumphed, satisfying yet another partner with grace and determination. The experience had been intense, physically challenging, and emotionally exhausting, but it had also been exhilarating.

Yunjin stood, her body glistening with the remnants of her encounters, and made her way to the mirror. She gazed at her reflection, at the cum-covered visage that stared back at her, and she felt a surge of pride. She had pushed herself beyond her limits, and had proven to herself that she was capable of anything. In that moment, Yunjin embraced her strength, her resilience, and the sheer power of her sexuality.

She took a moment to catch her breath. She felt a weight lifted off her shoulders, and a sense of calm washed over her. But she was not ready to stop just yet. Quickly using the provided wipes, she cleaned herself slightly before she gathered up her remaining energy and boldly decided to continue.

Yunjin's heart danced to the staccato rhythm of her racing pulse as she navigated the dimly lit corridors of the building, her every step echoing the potent cocktail of excitement and trepidation coursing through her veins. She arrived at her destination, a secluded alcove whispered about in the hushed tones of the initiated, where the boundaries of the self are willingly blurred.

With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Yunjin began the ritual of undressing, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal the canvas of her unadorned skin. The cool air of the room kissed her bare flesh, sending a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of her exposed state. It was in this moment of nakedness, both literal and metaphorical, that Yunjin felt truly alive, her senses heightened to the symphony of whispers, rustling fabric, and the faint scent of desire that permeated the air.

Carefully, she positioned herself, ensuring comfort and security, but also the deliberate display of her most intimate self. The hole before her served as a portal to a world of anonymous connections, her bare pussy an offering to the unknown. As she closed her eyes, Yunjin surrendered to the vulnerability of her situation, a willing participant in the dance of the flesh.

The sounds from the adjacent room grew in intensity, a cacophony of deep moans and heavy breathing that spoke of the primal acts unfolding mere inches away. It was not long before the first of her anonymous suitors approached, his fingers tracing the contours of her exposed lower body with a reverence that belied the raw encounter to come.

He wastes no time in claiming what he sought, gripping Yunjin's hips with an urgency that communicated his need. She felt the heat of his body, the insistent press of his cock against her, seeking entry into the slick warmth of her tight cunt. As he entered her, Yunjin braced herself against the intrusion, the sensation of being filled overwhelming her senses.

The man's thrusts were fast and deep, driven by the intoxicating tightness that enveloped him. Yunjin's moans melded with the symphony of sounds that filled the room, her body responding to the relentless rhythm. Having spent the earlier part of the night pleasuring a succession of faceless men, now it was her turn to bask in the waves of pleasure that threatened to engulf her.

Yunjin's body trembled uncontrollably as wave after wave of intense pleasure coursed through her veins. She could feel every inch of the man behind the wall. His thrusts were relentless, almost brutal in their intensity, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded to his touch.

She could hear the man's grunts and groans growing louder with each thrust, his hips slamming into her with a primal urgency that made her heart race. It was clear that he was chasing his own high, focused solely on the intense sensations coursing through his body.

Yunjin tried to match his rhythm, meeting each thrust with one of her own, but she was quickly overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her. She could feel her orgasm building deep within her, the tension coiling in her belly as she gasped for breath.

Yunjin, in that moment, was just another warm, wet body used solely for pleasure. An extension of the overwhelming stimulation that threatened to swallow her whole. The scent of sex was thick in the air of the crowded room, mixing with the heady aroma of cologne and the musk of aroused bodies.

All around them, others writhed and cried out in ecstasy. Moans and screams filled the air, punctuated by the wet slap of flesh on flesh. It was a debauched scene straight out of Yunjin's wildest fantasies. And yet, even as her body climbed higher and higher towards the peak, her mind felt strangely detached. It was as if she was watching the whole thing unfold from outside herself.

The man's thrusts grew more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own end. Yunjin could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her core, her nails digging into the supple leather beneath her as she teetered on the very edge of oblivion.

With a final, powerful thrust, Yunjin's body tensed as she felt her world shatter into a thousand pieces. Her orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave, a rush of intense pleasure coursing through her veins and leaving her breathless. She threw her head back and cried out, the sound echoing through the room as she reveled in the indescribable sensation.

The man, still buried deep inside of her, let out a low groan as he felt her climax. He could feel her muscles contracting around him, pulling him deeper as she rode out the waves of pleasure. With a few more thrusts, he followed suit, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her. The warmth of his seed filled her to the brim, a delicious sensation that only served to prolong her own orgasm.

"Ohhh yes!" Yunjin cried out, her voice filled with pure ecstasy. The intensity of the moment was etched into her memory, a moment of pure bliss that she would never forget.

As the first man finished his climax, he pulled out, leaving Yunjin's hungry hole exposed and glistening with a mixture of sweat and the evidence of his pleasure. But there was no time for respite in this den of hedonism. No sooner had he withdrawn than another figure loomed, his member rigid and ready. Without hesitation, he plunged into her cum-slicked opening, claiming her for his own.

He started pumping with an urgency that matched the rhythm of her own racing heart. The wet sounds of their union resonated throughout the room, a testament to the slick, fervent fucking that was underway. Yunjin's body responded instinctively, her hips rocking back to meet his every thrust, her fingers clawing at the edges of the bench that supported her.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she panted, her voice a symphony of lust and longing. She was a vision of abandon, her body undulating with each powerful drive of his cock. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back in ecstasy, as she rode the wave of another impending climax.

The man showed no signs of slowing down, his own desires stoking the fire within Yunjin's core. She could feel the essence of her previous partner being churned inside her, the concoction adding to the intensity of the experience. "Mmmm it's so messy!" Yunjin gasped, the sensation of fluids squelching with each thrust only heightening her arousal.

He used the slickness to his advantage, fucking her with wild abandon, his hips a blur as he hammered in and out of her willing body. The room was filled with the sounds of their coupling—the slap of skin, the wet suction of her sex, and the growing crescendo of Yunjin's moans.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Yunjin wailed, her voice cracking with the intensity of her impending orgasm. Her pussy clenched around him, the sensitive walls of her sex gripping him tightly as she reached the precipice of pleasure. Her whole body shook, racked by the force of her climax, a climax that seemed to tear through her like a storm surge, leaving her spent and trembling in its wake.

As her orgasm subsided, the man continued to thrust, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure from Yunjin's satiated form. Finally, with a guttural growl, he too found his release, adding to the cum-slicked mess that Yunjin had become.

Exhausted but thoroughly sated, Yunjin collapsed onto the bench, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. She was a writhing, moaning mess, her body marked by the intensity of her encounters. Yet, even as she lay there, the knowledge that this was but a moment in her endless pursuit of pleasure brought a knowing smile to her lips.

In the dimly lit confines of an intimate chamber, Yunjin found herself amidst a symphony of desire, a realm where pleasure was the only currency. After a series of passionate trysts, she braced herself for the final act of her evening, a performance that promised to be as memorable as it was intense.

As her body, still quivering from the reverberations of her last climax, began to settle, Yunjin sensed the approach of another. She was acutely aware that this would be her final partner for the night, and there was something decidedly different about him. The anticipation of his touch rekindled the warmth and pulsating sensitivity of her pussy, remnants of her recent orgasmic journey.

The man's presence was commanding yet tender as he teased her entrance, his warmth radiating against her sensitive flesh. She recognized him by his formidable size—the same man she had pleasured orally earlier. His endowment, both exciting and intimidating, had left a lasting impression, and the recognition only stoked the fires of her arousal.

As he began to enter her, Yunjin braced herself for the sensation of being filled beyond what she had ever known. His size was not just impressive; it bordered on the edge of her comfort zone, yet she found herself craving more. With each deliberate inch that slid inside, her body stretched to accommodate his girth, yielding to his impressive member with a mix of trepidation and eagerness.

The intensity of fullness was almost too much to bear, but it was swiftly replaced by waves of pleasure that accompanied each of his thrusts. Her body was being pushed to its limits, but in the most exhilarating way imaginable. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his shaft, creating a friction that sent shivers of delight coursing through her.

Instinct took over, and Yunjin began to match his rhythm, eager to feel him reach the deepest parts of her. The man responded in kind, increasing the force of his thrusts, making her gasp with each powerful drive. The room echoed with the raw, primal sound of their bodies uniting, a testament to the pleasure they were creating together.

Yunjin's heart raced, each beat a drumbeat echoing in her ears as she scaled the heights of her pleasure. Her legs trembled with the exertion, her muscles coiling tighter with each passing second. The air around them seemed to crackle with electricity, a palpable tension that begged for release.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, laced with the raw edge of desperation.

He responded with a powerful surge, his body moving with an intensity that matched her own fervor. Their rhythm was frenzied, a dance of two souls seeking unity in the most primal way.

"Please," she begged, her pride forgotten in the face of the overwhelming need that consumed her.

His answer was a focused, deliberate motion, a targeted strike against her inner walls that made stars explode behind her closed eyelids. Yunjin's world shattered as she reached the pinnacle of her climax. Her voice broke the stillness, a cry of pure, unadulterated bliss that filled the room.

"FUCK… you’re so big!" she exclaimed, her body arching into his, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Her inner muscles pulsed around him, a rhythmic clenching that milked his own release. He threw his head back, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as he let out a deep, resonant groan. Yunjin felt the heat of his climax as he spilled into her, the sensation drawing out her own pleasure until she was utterly spent.

For a moment, they existed in a perfect state of satiation, their bodies still intimately connected. Yunjin's breaths slowly evened out, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal. She lay there, boneless and content, a soft smile playing on her lips as the aftershocks of their union rippled through her.

As the intensity of the moment subsided, Yunjin savored the feeling of completeness. The warmth of his release spread through her, a sensation that was both comforting and deeply satisfying. Her body, now spent and limp, was a testament to the pleasure he had wrought.

In the afterglow of their erotic encounter, she lay back on the leather that clung to her skin, her body a canvas of pleasure and fatigue. Her breaths came in slow, deep waves, each one a testament to the intensity of the experience they had just shared. She was in a state of blissful exhaustion, every muscle in her body seemingly liquefied in the wake of her climax.

The mystery stud, still poised behind the wall, looked at her quivering folds, his gaze held a mixture of pride and satisfaction. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye he leaned in for one final, electrifying farewell.

His hand came down on her sex with a sure, resounding slap that echoed through the room, its sharpness jolting her senses. The stinging sensation arched her back, drawing a surprised moan from her lips as the sound lingered—a provocative reminder of their raw, unrestrained passion.

Before she could fully process the shock, his mouth descended with a searing kiss to her throbbing clit, warm and intent. The heat enveloped her, sending a fresh wave of pleasure rippling through her. His tongue moved deftly, coaxing her sensitive flesh to life with skilled flicks and gentle pulls, each movement reigniting her body’s desire.

A gasp escaped her as she shivered, goosebumps rising over her skin. Still sensitive from her previous release, she felt her body surge with renewed intensity. Her every nerve responded to him, the initial sting of his touch melting into the tender warmth of his kiss, the sensations mingling in a dizzying contrast that left her breathless. She was caught in the duality of it—the lingering sting meeting the sweetness of his lips—a perfect balance between the need to retreat from the intensity and the desire to lose herself in it entirely.

With a final, lingering kiss, he pulled back, leaving her body trembling and her chest rising with deep, satiated breaths. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, she had long since lost count of her climaxes, each one more powerful than the last. As she lay there, immersed in the warmth of their connection, she knew that this night would remain etched in her memory—a moment where passion, intensity, and an unspoken bond came together in something that transcended the physical.

She rose slowly from the plush cushions her legs trembling slightly from the exertions of the evening. Standing in the dimly lit room that had been her sanctuary, she caught her reflection in the nearby mirror. Her gaze drifted over her own form—a canvas marked by the unmistakable signs of release. Her skin was damp, glistening with the mingled residue of sweat and pleasure, each trace a testament to the intensity of the night.

She felt wonderfully full, her body carrying the subtle reminders of her encounters, tokens of the night that would stay with her as she stepped back into the world.

Yunjin moved to the bathroom, her steps careful, almost reverent. Warm water streamed over her, washing away the physical remnants of her indulgence, swirling down the drain in a quiet cleanse. Yet even as the evidence vanished, she knew that the essence of the night would remain—a secret, a sense of renewal that she would carry back into her public persona.

Dressed once again in her street clothes—a chic outfit that belied the wildness of her evening—Yunjin gathered her belongings: a sleek purse, comfy sneakers, and a renewed sense of self. She paused at the mirror, captivated by her own reflection. The woman staring back was radiant, her eyes alight with a new fire, a private victory that fame alone could never quite evoke. It was a glow that belonged to her alone.

At the front desk, Yunjin was met with the same quiet discretion as when she’d first arrived. The hostess, ever the silent guardian of this hidden world, handed her a sleek business card—a subtle invitation to return. Yunjin responded with a slight smile, a silent promise to herself that she would indeed revisit this sanctuary of indulgence.

Just as she turned to leave, a familiar voice rang out behind her.

“Hi, Ms. Jeon. Welcome back!”

Yunjin froze, her heart skipping as she spun around to see none other than her friend, Jeon Somi, standing just a few feet away. Somi’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she cocked her head, taking in Yunjin’s slightly disheveled appearance. Blood rushed to Yunjin’s cheeks, embarrassment rising fast—of all people, she hadn’t expected to see Somi here.

“S-Somi?” she stammered, caught off guard. “What… what are you doing here?”

Somi chuckled, enjoying Yunjin’s flustered reaction. She took a step closer, her gaze warm but curious. “I didn’t know you knew about this place.”

Yunjin shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. “Yeah, well…” She trailed off, unable to find the words, but Somi simply grinned and leaned in slightly, her expression softening.

Without a word, Somi’s eyes glinted with mischief as she inhaled, catching the faint scent lingering on Yunjin’s clothes—a subtle hint of musk and release. She pulled back, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“I’m here for the same reason as you, I presume?” Somi teased, raising an eyebrow.

Yunjin’s face grew hotter, mortified that Somi could sense exactly what she’d been up to. She bit her lip, laughing nervously. “I… guess so,” she mumbled, managing a sheepish grin. “Didn’t think I’d… run into anyone I know here.”

Somi chuckled warmly, patting Yunjin’s shoulder with a playful smile. “Hey, we all need a place like this sometimes, right? No judgment.” She glanced back toward the hallways, her voice softening. “Anyway, I had a long day. I’ll see you around.”

Before Yunjin could respond, Somi turned and headed toward the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps fading into the quiet shadows of the hidden world they both shared. Yunjin watched her friend disappear, feeling a strange mix of relief, embarrassment, and an unexpected sense of camaraderie.

Left standing by the entrance, Yunjin took a steadying breath, her heartbeat gradually slowing. Tomorrow, she would return to her carefully crafted public life. But tonight, she carried the thrill of her private indulgence—and the quiet comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone in seeking a place to shed her public self, if only for a moment.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #le sserafim smut #huh yunjin #jennifer huh #yunjin #huh yunjin smut #yunjin smut #le sserafim #le sserafim huh yunjin #le sserafim yunjin #yunjin le sserafim

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emthimofnight · 9 months ago

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Name ✨Stellar the Hedgehog✨

Age Varies based on what age I draw her, but let's say 16!

Pronouns She/Her

Basic Description The product of Project Stellar—a secret government operation aiming to perfect Project Shadow—Stellar is a genetic experiment combining the DNA of the Ultimate Life Form and the fastest thing alive. Designed to be a living weapon, Stellar was born in a hidden facility where she would have been raised to be an unstoppable weapon for the military. Thankfully, Shadow the Hedgehog (with help from Rouge the Bat) discovered her existence, destroyed the lab, and rescued her as an infant. Shadow then went on to begrudgingly inform his long-time rival, Sonic the Hedgehog, of their newfound child, seeing as she was technically just as much Sonic's problem as she was Shadow's. From there, the duo (along with help from their friends) raised Stellar as their daughter, sheltering her from the knowledge she was created to be a force of destruction for her masters. Along the way, Sonic and Shadow found themselves truly falling for one another, dissolving the barriers they had placed between one another as rivals, finding new appreciation for each other in their new parental roles.

Stellar herself is a bright, warm-hearted person. She has a strong sense of justice and never shies away from standing up for what is right. She takes after Sonic in personality, always cracking jokes and finding it hard to sit still. Despite this, she inherited Shadow's finesse and ability to plan out her choices, not to mention his abilities to utilize chaos energy. She has a love for figure skating, ballet, and make up (thanks to Auntie Rouge!), but don't let her feminine side fool you, she is not afraid to get her hands dirty! She would love nothing more than to spend her day smashing badniks into the ground with her skates if her dads would let her! Stellar loves both of her parents dearly, but sometimes wishes that they wouldn't be so protective of her. After all, what could they possibly have to be worried about?

Extra ✨Stellar's favorite color is red. ✨Her favorite food is chili dogs. ✨She is bisexual. ✨Her favorite flower is lavender, because it reminds her of home! ✨She learned how to skate from Shadow. ✨She calls Shadow "papa" and Sonic "dad". ✨She desperately wants to make her family and friends proud. ✨Her best friend is Camellia the Cat, the daughter of Blaze and Amy. ✨She loves racing Sonic, but is frustrated he always lets her win. ✨She can be VERY impulsive when angered, much like both of her parents! ✨She is SUPER dense when it comes to romance. She has no idea Camellia has been in love with her since they were little! ✨The inhibitor rings she wears keep her powers under control, but they also prevent her from truly mastering them. ✨Her powers are designed after collapsing stars/black holes. Extremely destructive to both herself and everything around her. ✨She has no awareness to the extent of the latent power inside her.

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reignpage · 6 days ago

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Art Student!Choso

Renaissance: worship

Word Count: 5.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, plot with smut, mostly fluffy, direct continuation of the part 5 smau, and concludes pre-relationship Choso's story, not proofread so idk how much sense this makes, let me know if it’s complete bs and I’ll redo it or something

You’re staring at the most beautiful mural you think has ever been created. It’s made up of harsh strokes of ash, curving and spiralling into one another, sprawling across the entire back wall of the gym. The smudges and the streaks breeze from corner to corner, bouncing along the edges as they create layers of shadows which seem so thick you could feel it from where you stand.

There, in the centre, you can make out a face. It’s contorted, mouth stretched inhumanly, eyes bulging and threatening to pop out. Fragmented and clawing itself, tearing skin and pulling until its face morphs into something you can’t quite make out. Dissolving into the fray, with the stark chalk, it spirals into frenzied strokes, suffocating itself.

A gasp leaves you when you step back, taking more of it in at once, and you see amidst the smoke and the chaos, symbols, jagged and torn up. They make up even more faces, just as contorted and as uncanny, all stretched out in silent screams that pierce your soul and render your knees weak.

It’s haunting.

You had no idea you would walk in to find this when you were searching for Choso. And when you meet his eyes from above, leaning against the railing, you think you might actually fall to your knees. It’s the same eyes that match the big ones on the wall, both equally broken, accusing and full of heat as it never wavers from yours.

There are so many things left unsaid, things that are desperate to get out, to be screamed at him so he’ll understand, so he’ll know. But only silence remains.

Choso doesn’t say anything, just lets the moonlight streaming from the windows encase you both in half light, half-darkness. You can’t see the smudges on his hands, but you can see the yearning in his eyes, like he too has so much to say, so much for you to understand and accept.

Click.

Both of your eyes dart to the entrance, there’s a security guard, holding a flashlight, aimed right you. There’s no way to escape. That’s what your thumping heart is telling you; you’ve been caught. And you haven’t done anything wrong.

“Hey! Did you do this?” He yells.

You’re rendered speechless, frozen from the realisation that there’s no way out of this. Without looking at him, can’t bear to discover what expression he’s wearing now that it’s all unravelling between you, you walk to the guard and let him drag you of there.

You don’t look back.

——

“What would possess you to vandalise private property?” The Dean questions.

His bald head is shiny, and the light’s reflection is all you can focus on as he thumps his fist against the mahogany desk separating you both. Thank God, too, because by the looks of that bulging vein on his forehead, he's pretty keen on giving you a lesson or two. It’s just you and him in his stately, stuffy office. The walls are lined with tall, dark wood bookshelves, which in turn are filled with old, leather-bound books in perfect condition, not a single dust in sight.

“I’m sorry.”

“It goes without saying, I’m sure, that I’m disappointed in you,” he ignores you, voice gruff and measured, all condescending and pretentious. You’re convinced that’s not even his natural accent. “You have the talent, the potential, to do anything with your gifts. Your works have won many awards, and you could one day find them in museums or galleries across the world. Instead, this —this is how you choose to leave your mark?”

The chair squeaks when you shift uncomfortably, and your eyes choose to scan his meticulous desk, as opposed to his beady ones. There’s not a single paper angled wrong, no pens misaligned, not a smudge or even a water mark.

“You’ve disgraced this fine institution. Our beloved Eden University for the Excellent has stood as a beacon for ambition, sophistication and innovation! And with every act of ‘artistic rebellion’ with your ‘cursed death paintings’, or the like, you have threatened everything we have built for centuries!”

You could try and defend yourself, could rebuff the accusations since you are, of course, innocent. But, well, the evidence is damning: you were at the scene of the crime, you’re an art student, you have attended practically every protest on campus, have liked posts from Cursed Womb’s fan-pages, and damn it, you had paint all over your shirt and hands.

You’re fucked.

He leans back in his chair, sighing as he folds his glasses onto the desk. “There are no excuses; none I will accept. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I hereby — “

The door slams open.

You both jump.

“Dean Hanami,” a sneer projects through the office and you recognise it immediately as belonging to a guy that knocked on your door and glared at you as if you were dirt on his shoe. “We have much to discuss.”

When you twist in your seat, you’re alarmed to find three men: Sukuna in a newer looking jacket than you remembered, an old man in a suit, and a guy you haven’t seen in almost two weeks.

Choso’s not looking at you, he’s not even entering the room, choosing instead to hang around by the doorway.

“Mr. Ryomen, I am in the middle of a meeting,” the Dean splutters.

Sukuna pokes your shoulder with a pen he picked up from the desk, looking over at you with complete disgust, like you’re a little cockroach. Still as rude as ever, he’s signalling for you to leave and as you look between the two men, one much older than the other, you choose to go with your instincts and rush out of there.

“This is how it’s going to work,” he drawls, sliding into your seat and snapping his fingers at the man in a suit, “you’re going to give back everything I want, and you’re going to let this Cursed Womb farce go.”

The last thing you hear is the sheer humiliation of the Dean’s defeated stammering. You close the door behind you.

Without looking at Choso, you walk down the hallway.

“Y/n, we should talk,” he follows beside you.

“Now you want to talk?” You sigh. You know you’re not being fair. Counting to ten, you try a softer approach. “Listen, Choso, it's been a long morning. Can we have this talk somewhere private? These hallways are so depressing.”

He nods, his pigtails moving with him. Wordlessly, he leads you outside, to his parked car, it’s all shiny and sleek, classic Ryomen money, and you get into the passenger seat.

It’s odd being in such close proximity with him when he’s avoided you for so long, but you try to get comfortable regardless, ignoring the elephant in the room. There’s a Cursed Womb sized hole between you and there’s so much to be said but you’re afraid you’ll push him, that you’ll say the wrong thing and everything will be for nought; you’ll go back to being strangers, passing each other by, just like last year.

And, whatever you feel for him, you just can’t let that happen.

“Choso,” you begin, voice soft, “what happened? What happened between us?”

Driving, he doesn’t dare look at you, can only chew on the inside of his cheek before seemingly deciding on the right words. “I liked you. From the very beginning, I liked you. People either like me ‘cause of my family or 'cause of rumours, but you’re one of the very few people that actually reached out, saw me as an equal.”

You’re silent. He’s opening up in a way he has never before and you don’t dare disturb his flow, like one would watch a Master at work. Everything about him is compelling, the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel harder than he should, the furrow of his brows as he thinks hard, the way his gaze slides over to you, just not meeting your eyes, and even the way he studies you, in just your thin jumper and jeans and turns up the heater without asking.

Trees fly by, everything a blur as you keep your gaze fixed solely on him. He drives pretty smoothly, unlike you. You're always pressed right up against the wheel, eyes darting to every mirror like a car would appear in the millisecond you looked away. But him...he drives like it's second nature, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Despite me not being very open and particularly approachable I guess, you still made the effort to reach out, to include me in discussions, to ask if I’m coming to class — even lecturers have stopped asking. And you’re very smart! I like how passionate you are, you’re so full of great ideas, practically beaming with them. You never lose your optimism even when your art gets critiqued too harshly.”

This is the first time anyone’s ever described you like this, like he appreciates you by pure virtue of your existence and the way he sees your hard work, the strength it takes to get back up that you hadn’t recognised in yourself -- it feels like the way one would appreciate Starry Night.

You can tell he practised this speech.

“But,” there’s a tremble in his voice and it makes your hand twitch, “you don't like me. Not like how I like you. And it makes me upset. Because you're so great and nice and pretty. Not that I like you because of your appearance, even though you have a very nice body. I mean that respectfully! Okay, actually just forget I said that. I like you for lots of different reasons. And I've been trying to get you to see me as more than your classmate or just your friend. But it's all pointless because you like Cursed Womb.”

“Choso, you are Cursed Womb.”

The car screeches to a halt.

His hand flies out, pressing hard on your chest to stop you from flying forward. Thank goodness you’re wearing your seatbelt. And thank goodness the road is empty.

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry!” He pants. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise.”

Like you’ve been possessed, you laugh. It’s more a cackle than anything else to be honest, but the look of utter shock and disbelief on his face is making you tear up, your sides hurting as you cradle them. “Oh my god, Choso, you should have seen your face. HA!”

He’s panicking, hands waving in the air as he tries to decide between lifting your hair up to inspect for damage and going to the steering wheel so he can drive off to safety, where the chances of a car accident caused by your blunt mouth are slim. Conflicted, he decides to keep them in his lap as he winces at your chortles. You’re finding this way too funny.

“You’re being mean,” he pouts.

Wiping tears from your eyes, you’re desperately trying to calm down, trying to school your features into something more neutral or, better yet, something serious so you can have a mature, adult conversation. But he’s just so adorable you can’t help yourself.

“Sorry, Choso,” you playfully frown at him, making a puppy dog pout so he’ll cave in. “But be honest here, sweetheart. You didn’t actually think you were slick, did you?”

Like a child, he smacks his steering wheel, all grumpy and upset. “No one else knew.”

“That’s ‘cause no one else tried to know. Sure, people were investigating, trying to piece together clues, but no one really wanted to know; the mystery was addictive, and that’s what peopled liked. But you think you’re the only one who pays attention? I watch you all the time. Plus, your family’s presence today was concrete proof; Sukuna would never do that just because you asked, right? And on top of all of that, you’re not a very good liar, sweet Choso,” you coo.

He stutters, “B-but you never said. You kept talking about him l-like —"

“Like he’s not you?” You finish for him.

“Yes! Even that night when I asked you to hang out, you didn’t want to go with me but when I mentioned the painting, you said yes.”

Your hand reaches out to play with a loose lock of hair from his messy pigtails and he lets you, his eyes flutter shut when your hand grazes his cheek. Heart clenching, you sigh again. “I was genuinely busy, Choso. But when you mentioned that ‘your friend’ painted again, I knew that meant trouble. What you do is dangerous, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“What about the other time when you didn’t want to have lunch with me? And you just wanted to work?”

You giggle, playfully pulling at his hair, and he has to pretend he’s not getting hard. “Choso, you do realise we have to balance our project on top of our schoolwork, right? Like we have to actually study and work, to meet deadlines?”

Choso pouts again and you smush your thumb against his plump lips, easing away the tension there. All muffled, he whines, “But I wanted to have lunch with you!”

“And we enjoyed sandwiches, did we not? Which by the way, you never paid me back for. But eh, that's okay. Just treat me out next time -- I'm a broke college student.”

He groans, pulling away to smack his head against the wheel. It honks and you laugh again. He’s clearly embarrassed and frustrated and he doesn’t know where to begin, so you try for him.

“Choso, sweetheart,” you rub his back, “don’t be upset. I’ll be completely honest: I was messing with you. I kinda just wanted to see how far things will go. I mean, I knew as soon as you told me he’s your ‘friend’ that you were Cursed Womb. It’s such an obvious throwaway; I hope you weren’t feeling very proud of yourself.”

Scrunching his nose at you, he sinks back into his seat. The road is still empty, and he doesn’t seem to have any desire to drive off yet. So, you let him take it all in, rubbing his shoulder in pity for the poor guy who was clearly so proud of himself for keeping such a huge secret from everyone.

“What’s gonna happen with the Dean?” You just realised technically you were expelled or were going to be expelled. No longer a student, you aren’t sure what you would do as a non-student — would you even make a very inspirational contributive member of society?

What’s next?

Taxes and mortgages?

You shudder.

Choso grabs your hand, holding it in his lap as he fiddles with your rings, clinking them with his own. His nails are painted black in true male art student fashion and his fingers are so beautifully long and slender you’re not afraid to admit that you’ve stared at them a little too long during clay sculpting class.

“The family’s going to take care of it. Make it go away like they did when Sukuna beat up some guy who pushed Yuji. Or when I got caught by some other security guard.”

You nodded. “Where does that leave us?”

“Us?”

“There is an us, right, Choso?”

He fiddles with your ring finger, and you try really hard not to notice the hearts in his eyes. “Do you want there to be us? It’s not because I’m Cursed Womb, is it?”

Of course, you don’t blame him for feeling this way; you played around too much, gave him too much power when you really should have made the decisions to begin with, forced him to confront everything that was unspoken between you much sooner. Then there wouldn’t be this awkward energy that's holding him back from meeting your eyes.

“Choso, I never liked you because you were Cursed Womb. Sure, I liked Cursed Womb. I stand by everything I said — he’s cool, he stands for what’s right, he sends a message and isn’t afraid to put his art out there to be critiqued by the masses. How many people can say that? But I liked him like one likes a pop star! You, on the other hand, I like you as you are. All shy and sweet and considerate. And I know the picture of me was from you, by the way.”

He opens his mouth to argue, and you shut him up with a stern look.

“We’re project partners, Choso!” You laugh. “I’ve seen your handwriting and the way you write your Cs, you silly silly boy.”

“But you teased me anyways."

With a shrug, you explain, "You liked it."

And then he’s kissing you.

His seatbelt is off, and you’re being pressed back into your seat, his hands cradling your face. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and it’s so Choso you can only moan in his mouth. He’s holding you like the two lovers of Rodin, with so much care, so much passion, it's leaving you breathless. You feel so much warmth and adoration through every lick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth and every moan of your name he’s breathing into you.

You push him back, taking your belt off so you can climb into his lap whilst he pushes the seat back. He kisses down your neck, sucking your pulse point and gripping your hip as if he’s scared you’re just a figment of his imagination. And when you grind down on his hard length, he moans your name again. You’re soaking.

“I’m sorry for teasing you too much.”

With tentative hands, he lifts your sweater up your stomach, searching your eyes for any resistance. You smile and take it off for him. He wastes no time sucking a tit, flicking the hard bud with his tongue and you’re gripping his pigtails. That makes him groan.

“I’ll forgive you if you do one thing for me,” his words are garbled, on account of him trying to swallow the entire globe of your breast, cheeks all puffed up, and you can’t help but press a kiss against his forehead. “Call me Cho again.”

“What?” His teeth graze your sensitive nipple and you arch into him, eyes crossing.

“You only call me Cho when we’re like this, touching in a way we shouldn’t.”

“Do I?” Grinding down on his dick, you tug a pigtail back so you can tilt his face away from your wet tits and back to your mouth. You kiss him again, craving his taste, his warmth. “Sorry…Cho.”

He bucks into your clothed core, straight up to your clit and you’re moaning into each other’s mouths. This isn’t enough, you both need more. Neither of you even care that you’re on the side of a road and it’s midday.

“I want you,” he whispers, and he’s tearing up, the frustration building up to a point where he’s clawing your jeans off and burying his face between your tits and inhaling deep. “Can I? Can I have you?”

“Of course, Cho. I’m yours,” you kiss his hair. “You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

Because the next thing you know, the seat is folding back and you’re being thrown onto the seat, facing the plush roof. He’s tugging your jeans down, pulling the material as if it’s singlehandedly his worst enemy. You can only rub his head as he frantically looks between your face, your tits and your panties like he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s desperately asking for permission, for guidance.

“Choso, we can do whatever you want, just take your time.” And then, as an afterthought, you add, “Although, you shouldn’t take too long since we are outside. If we get caught, I’m not sure your family can take care of the charges we’ll face.”

He nods and then with dark, unfocused eyes, he shoves his face between your leg as he kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs with his strong arms. Sniffing is all he does, inhaling deeply and moaning. You blush, pushing his hair from his face. And, as if the urge has gotten too much, he pushes your panties to the side and licks a strip up your slit, from quivering hole to the clit.

Your back arches off the seat.

Moans and groans escape you, shaky breaths fanning the air as he sucks your clit, mumbling your name and the vibrations leaves you lightheaded.

“Tastes so good. Knew you would taste so good.” He pushes in a finger inside and he groans with you when he wriggles it. “So wet, baby. You’re so hot a-and wet and I want to stay here forever.”

He curls his fingers inside, rubbing against that spot inside of you that has you gushing cream all over his mouth, and he laps it up like he’s starved. Just as a car drives past and he dives deeper into you, you find yourself cumming all over his mouth and fingers, clutching his pigtails harder.

"Fuuuuuck, don't stop, Cho!" You ride out your orgasm on his face, spreading your wetness all over his chin and his cheeks, clit bumping against his nose.

Shuffling up, something wet and hard traces your lips. It’s salty. You don’t hesitate to widen your jaw, letting him push his hot and hard length into your throat. It’s an awkward angle, with you laid not fully back and him having to crouch down, but you manage a few suckles before he gets frustrated and embarrassed, and he climbs back down to pet at your pussy.

"That's just going to have to wait later, I guess," you chuckle.

A blush blanketing his cheeks, he nods and strokes his dick. He must have taken it out when he was licking you. It's long and hard and your body remembers the feel of it in your hands. And Monet! His tip is flushed red, leaking cum like a faucet. How adorable.

You see him lining his beautiful cock to your quivering hole, but you have to press a hand against his chest to still him. “Tut tut, Cho. Do I need to lecture you on the importance of safe sex, silly boy?”

He blushes and pats his pockets with frantic, panicked movements. You sigh. You didn’t bring one either.

“Well, you’re not allowed inside without a condom,” you mutter to his cock, telling it off as if it’s responsible for its owner irresponsibility. “I mean, really, Choso. You’re a grown man, a college student! You should always have condoms, silly.”

“I didn’t think we’d ever be together so I didn’t buy any,” he mumbles, laying down on you so he can hide his sheepish expression in your shoulder.

The implication warms your chest, making you pout and rub his back. You coo, “Aw, did my baby not want to fuck anyone else? Just me?”

Pushed to his limit, he bites your neck and then quickly soothes it with his tongue as if upset at himself for hurting you. But it’s you who feels the most guilt; you played around too much, teased him too far, and now his hips are making short thrusts against your pussy. He just can’t help himself. It’s as if the magnetic pull of your cunt is too much for a weak man like him. You’re going to have to work very hard to earn his forgiveness even if he’s willingly thrown it at you.

Starting, of course, by wrapping your legs around his hips and pressing him closer. You whisper, “Make yourself cum on my pussy, Cho.”

He groans. Maybe it’s the seductive way you ordered him to, the vulgar term you used, or perhaps it’s the fact that you called him a nickname he loves to hear. Well, whatever it is, it’s making him whimper in your ear as he thrusts against your lips, coating his length with your juices. His tip bumps against your clit and you both moan.

“I-I missed you, y/n!” He cries in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

Again and again, he thrusts, still clinging onto you and holding you close. You can feel his desperation, sincerity, and his pre-cum all seeping into your skin. Rolling back, your eyes disappear — this is supposed to be for him, and yet you’re panting too, holding him tight, shirt threatening to rip under your claws.

The fact that you’re naked and he isn’t is making you sensitive all over, from the way your nipples are rubbing against his chest and how he pinches at one all the way to the mumbling of your name, like a mantra, against your neck.

You’re going to cum too.

“Ngh, Cho! Keep going!”

He must have liked that because his thrusting gets more frantic, his cock head meeting your clit again and again and you’re both nearing your high. Your nails dig into his back and he bites your neck to stifle the broken moan that escapes him. Hot ropes of cum paint your stomach and it makes you arch your back once more, eyes closing shut.

"So warm ngh!" He groans into your ear.

Hips stuttering, he drags out his orgasm like his body can’t help himself and a beat or two passes. He falls on top of you, still muttering your name like his brain has short-circuited and it’s all that’s left in there.

“You like me better than Cursed Womb, right?”

You laugh. “Cho, you silly man. You’re the same person.”

Choso pushes himself up onto his elbows, slightly out of breath and dazed, a blush highlighting his face tattoo. You kiss him on the nose which brings out what sounds like a mewl from him. He copies the movement, and it tickles you. That makes him smile, still panting.

“I know, but I want to know who you like better,” he licks a bead of sweat from your forehead and you have to smack his back.

Sighing, you push him off, concerned over the fact that you’re naked and in a public space. He lets you scramble back to your seat, fixing your panties and leggings and he hands you your jumper. All in silence, you get settled back in.

He starts the engine, looking a little upset and you have to still his hand with yours. Words aren’t really enough, you know that. So, the only thing to do is to show him.

“Take us to my place, Cho.”

—

He’s confused, head tilting and brows scrunched together like a little puppy as you lead him to your dorm room. Whereas you’re practically buzzing with excitement, struggling to get the keys in due to your shaking hands. But you manage and you welcome him in.

It’s the first time he’s been inside your place — there wasn’t a particular reason why you waited, it was really just because his place is bigger and cooler and generally a much better place to work in.

Despite it being a pretty standard room, he’s marvelling at the space, eyeing the pictures of your friends strewn across the walls, the fairy lights and the open journal on the table full of your watercolour works. Choso looks like he just entered Santa’s workshop, and you giggle as you press your face in his back, hugging him and swaying you guys side to side.

“Sorry about the mess, Cho. I didn’t know you’d come over.”

He holds your hands, swaying with you, but his focus is on only one thing.

There, on your easel, stationed by the window for natural lighting, is a sketch. The lines are messy and criss-crossing, overlapping each other, the lead of the pencil unravelling to create a face loss in thought. It’s tilting its head as its own creation, examining the angles and the proportions, and you can tell it’s completely entranced in its work, losing grip with reality and wholly immersed in their own imagination.

It’s the kind of expression you’ve decided is most beautiful in all your years of looking and sketching and studying. In all the models, in all the strangers, and in all the works of art you’ve come across, only one figure has captivated you as much it has.

“Recognise him, Cho Cho?”

Despite the teasing tone of your voice, you’re actually pretty nervous. This has never been a problem for you; you’ve presented your work to countless of people, by virtue of being an art student, you’ve consented to being ripped apart again and again. But this time, you’re feeling a certain kind of insecurity you never have before.

“Do you like it?”

“This is me?” He breathes out.

You bury your face harder in his back, feeling a blush creeping up. “Yeah, Cho. I started it back in first year. I never got to finish it because, well, we’re art students and we all have ADHD or whatever. But when we became project partners, I’ve been adding to it, adding lines and details for every time I noticed something new about you. In fact, I was working on it that night you asked me to hang out and I almost turned you down. Sorry about by the way, baby.”

Waving a hand over the general area, you explain further, "At the end of first year, you got that face tattoo, and I struggled all summer adding it in because I only saw it once and wanted to recreate it from pure memory. But I couldn't ever seem to get the proportions right."

"Y-you started drawing me in first year?"

Pressing a kiss to his back and smiling at the flex of his muscles, you think back to a memory. "It wasn't like I was obsessed with you, or anything creepy, I swear. It's just that, you're a pretty handsome dude. The List agrees and well, when I first saw you in the lecture hall, I thought wow, someone needs to capture that guy in a drawing or something. And you know how us artists work — we develop fixations. I guess, you could say you've been my on and off one for a year now."

That was a lot of words and you’re not sure he registered any of it because of how silent he is, but then he’s clasping your hands tightly. And you’re shocked into silence when something cold slides down one of your fingers. On your left hand. Your ring finger.

“Cho?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he shakily whispers.

You want to laugh — it’s such a sudden admission and you’re fairly convinced it’s just that post-nut high. But the way he says it, the way it’s so serious, so real makes you pull away.

He turns, desperate to see your face. And with another whisper, he admits, “I have one of you too.”

“What?”

“I painted a portrait of you. In my place.”

It strikes you there. You remember. The painting with the tarp over it. That was of you, and he hid it because you were coming over. With a grin, you raise your hand up to eye the golden signet ring on your finger, way too big and threatening to fall off if you don’t hold it tight.

“We’re a pretty cool duo, aren’t we?”

Choso falls to his knees, pigtails bouncing, an expression of desperation and torment written all over it. He's never looked more beautiful staring up at you. "Please let me be your boyfriend!"

You laugh again, hands on your hips as you shake your head in disbelief. Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with, "Alright, I guess I can grant you that one wish. Actually, since you gave me two orgasms, I'll give you another one."

He reaches for your hand with his eyes closed and you let him press it against his face. Cupping his cheek, your smile drops and you feel a fire burning inside and explode in your chest when he presses a distressed kiss to your wrist, full of panic like his brain is malfunctioning and he can't settle on one thought or feeling.

Then, his eyelids fly open and meet yours with a clarity that has never been there. Never. Not even since first year when you made eye contact in passing and you couldn't get his face out of your mind. And it's like all the anguish you saw that night is gone, the chalk mural fading from view.

More certain than ever, you know he'll give you all the opportunities you need to finish your portrait of him, and every new one you'll make. And your project will be renewed with a deeper level of teamwork, because you've transcended the definitions of your connection.

“I want to eat you out again.”

And well, who are you to say no to a man on his knees?

#jjk x reader #jjk choso #jjk smut #choso x reader #jjk fluff #choso smut #choso fluff #jjk drabble #jjk fic #choso drabble #modern au

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surielstea · 11 days ago

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Solstice Special

(SFW version)

Pairing: ACoTaR x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: A compilation of drabbles with a theme of Winter Solstice, just an excuse to write fluff really.

Warnings: All fluff! One allusion to smut (rhys), but that’s it!

3.7k words.

Rhys - Mistletoe

I leaned against the archway of the foyer, sighing as I reached down to unbuckle the straps of my heels. The day's weight still clung to me, but the familiar warmth of home promised relief. One shoe off, then the other, I barely registered the soft sound of hurried footsteps until they were practically upon me.

Rhysand rounded the corner from his office, his usual grace momentarily abandoned as he skidded slightly on the polished hardwood floor. My brows furrowed at his urgency. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, my voice laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

He didn't answer, not with words, anyway. Instead, his hands cupped my face, firm yet tender, tilting my head up to meet his descending lips. His kiss was sudden, warm, and commanding, leaving me breathless before I had a chance to even think.

Still, I kissed him back, my confusion melting into a hum of contentment. When he pulled away, his violet eyes sparkled with mischief, and his lips curled into that devilish smile that always unraveled me.

"Welcome home," he murmured, his voice rich and teasing.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "What was that for?" I managed to whisper, still feeling the lingering heat of his mouth on mine.

His grin widened as he silently pointed above us. My gaze followed the gesture, landing on a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the archway. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, shaking my head. "Did you hang that up?"

"I did," he replied, looking awfully pleased with himself. His pride was almost endearing, considering I had done all the rest of the decorating. The garlands on the banister, the wreath on the door, the lights twinkling softly in the windows—all my handiwork. And yet, he stood there, so smug about his singular contribution.

I grinned, shaking my head as I leaned up on my toes to press another quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's my favorite of all the decor," I murmured against his mouth.

He hummed his agreement, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "I know," he said, his tone entirely too self-satisfied. "I'll expect full credit for it."

From that day on, the mistletoe became a tradition—one he refused to let go of. Every day when I walked through the door, he'd be there waiting. His excuse was always the same, a playful glance upward and a husky, "You know the rules."

Usually, the kisses were soft, sweet. A lingering press of his lips against mine followed by a quiet, "I'm glad you're home." Sometimes he'd brush his thumb along my jaw or press his forehead to mine, his eyes saying what words never could.

But on other days—those long, grueling ones when exhaustion was carved into every line of my body—his kisses were different. They were hungrier, more insistent. He'd pin me against the wall, his hands roving over my waist, my back, his touch dissolving every ounce of tension. His mouth would trail to my neck, his voice a low murmur, "Let me take care of you." And he always did, in ways that left me breathless and melting into him.

There were moments when I wondered if the mistletoe had been an innocent gesture at all, or if he'd hung it up knowing it would become something more—a way to anchor us, to carve out a pocket of intimacy amid the chaos of the world outside. If so, I couldn't complain. It was the best idea he'd ever had.

The archway and its ever-present dangling plant became our quiet haven, an unspoken ritual that drew me closer to him every day. And it was the last night of the Solstice Season, meaning all the decorations would go down tomorrow. So when I came home I expected rose petals leading up the doorstep and candles to illuminate our last kiss beneath the dangling plant.

But when I walked inside, I found him waiting for me, not beneath the mistletoe, but by the window, a glass of wine in his hand. The soft glow of the moonlight framed him like some sort of painting, his silhouette a study in elegance and ease. He didn't notice me at first, his attention fixed on the snow drifting lazily outside.

I paused in the doorway, letting the sight of him settle in my chest. He was dressed in more casual clothes—a loose, charcoal-gray sweater and black slacks—and for a moment, I could almost forget he was the High Lord of Night, the most powerful male in Prythian. Right now, he was simply mine.

"Are you going to stand there staring all night?" Rhysand asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. He didn't turn, but I could hear the amusement in his tone.

I rolled my eyes, stepping into the room. "You looked peaceful. I didn't want to ruin the moment."

He glanced at me over his shoulder, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You could never ruin anything." Setting his glass down, he turned fully, holding out a hand. "Come here."

I hesitated for only a moment before crossing the room and slipping my hand into his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and sure, and he guided me toward the window. "Look," he murmured, nodding toward the snow.

I followed his gaze. The world outside was blanketed in white, the kind of snowfall that muffled all sound and made the world feel smaller, quieter. It was beautiful, but I couldn't focus on it for long. Not with the way he was looking at me.

"You're not even looking at the snow," I accused softly, glancing up at him.

His lips twitched. "Why would I, when you're here?"

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. "You're shameless."

"Always," he agreed, pulling me closer. His hands settled on my hips, and I found myself instinctively wrapping mine around the back of his neck, head resting on his chest as I stared out the window. We stood there, swaying slightly to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

After a moment, I tilted my head up to look at him. "You going to kiss me anytime soon?"

"Desperate, are you?" he countered, one brow arching.

I gave him a pointed look. "You're the one who started all this."

He sighed, a dramatic sound, but the way his hands tightened on me gave him away, he couldn't deny me.

He leaned forward, smiling as our lips nearly met but didn't quite touch. I huffed, rising onto my toes and closing that gap to kiss him. It was slow and deep, a silent confession of everything I couldn't say. He responded immediately, his arms tightening around me, grounding me.

His hands ran up my hips, large hands gripping my waist, the warmth of his touch seeping past my clothes as he pulled me closer and deepened our kiss, attempting to pour all his love into this one moment.

By the time we pulled apart, I felt lighter, the weight of my long day dissolving under his touch. "Thank you," I whispered, my fingers brushing over his jaw.

He smiled, that familiar, self-assured curve of his lips. "For the kiss? Or for being perfect?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "For this. For you."

His smile softened, his gaze turning molten. "Always, my love." He pecked my lips once more, slowly pulling away with his forehead against mine. "Always."

Az - Cookies

We had made a mess. Flour clung to the entire front of Azriel's black shirt, standing out starkly against the dark fabric, while dye from the frosting stained my hands in streaks of bright colors. The countertops were a warzone of cookie cutters, unused dough scraps, and piping bags in every color.

But neither of us seemed to care. Azriel focused on his latest creation with the precision of a Spymaster turned confectionery artist, the perfectly golden-brown sugar cookies serving as his canvas. I was still shocked he hadn't devoured the one he was decorating, considering he'd been snatching cookies fresh out of the oven all afternoon.

We weren't officially competing, but if we were, I'd be losing. Horribly. His cookies looked like something straight out of a Winter Solstice display—ornate wreaths, perfect bows, and snowflakes so detailed they might have been drawn by hand. Meanwhile, my snowman looked like he'd been through a blizzard and lost the fight. His crooked smile mocked me from the plate.

With a defeated sigh, I cleared a small space and hoisted myself onto the counter, leaning back on my hands to watch my mate work. I didn't understand how he was so good at manipulating the frosting—it seemed to defy my every attempt.

"Are you pouting?" Azriel asked without looking up, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Something like that," I replied, unable to keep the pout from my tone.

"This was your idea, might I remind you," he said, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving him off. "I remember."

Azriel placed the piping bag down with deliberate care, adding yet another masterpiece to the growing plate of decorated cookies. Finally, he looked up, those hazel eyes warm and alight with quiet humor as they locked onto mine.

Without a word, he stepped forward, settling himself between my legs. His hands, still dusted with flour, rested on either side of my thighs as he leaned in. The kiss was soft, sweet—lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. When he pulled back, his lips curved into a slight smile, dimples appearing as though summoned just for me.

"You taste like frosting," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

A soft giggle escaped me before I could stop it. "You're not entirely innocent either." I poke his chest.

He tilted his head, pretending to think, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes gave him away. "I'm not sure what you're talking about," he said at last, his lips twitching into a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the warmth blooming in my chest.

Cass - Snowmen

"Using your powers is cheating," Cassian declared, gesturing toward my much more impressive snowman. His own creation, barely the size of a pre-schooler, leaned precariously to one side, a lopsided grin smeared across its face.

I scoffed, smoothing the snow on mine as I used my magic—honed in the Winter Court—to form the snowman's perfectly symmetrical, smiling expression. "Don't pout," I said, throwing him a smug grin. "It won't make your sad little snowman any better."

His gasp was loud and exaggerated, and he stomped through the knee-deep snow toward me, hands on his hips like a scolding parent. But the rant he was about to give cut off as his gaze flicked upward. He tilted his head back, dark hair dusted with white as fresh snow began to fall.

The soft flakes drifted between us, one landing perfectly on the tip of my nose. Cassian grinned, leaning in to brush it away with his lips before stealing a kiss, his mouth warm against mine. The cold melted away as I wrapped my arms beneath his jacket, hugging his solid torso against me. His hands pressed against my back, pulling me even closer.

But he leaned too far into the embrace, and the next thing I knew, we were tumbling backward into the snow.

I squealed as I landed with a soft thump, the freezing cold biting into me as I flailed. Cassian laughed, his deep chuckle loud and unapologetic as he flopped onto his back beside me.

"You're such a brute," I muttered, trying to brush the snow off my hair.

"And you're such a sore loser." He grinned, turning his head to look at me, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Thought you liked the cold?"

"I do." I glared, my cheeks flaming as the cold snow beneath me only seemed to grow colder.

"Then stop whining and enjoy it." Before I could argue, he swept his arms wide, his legs kicking out to carve a snow angel. The sight was so ridiculous—Cassian, a massive Illyrian warrior, lying in the snow and making an angel—I couldn't help but laugh.

"You don't need to use your arms, you already have arms," I said, flopping back beside him. "So ridiculous."

But I joined him, moving my arms and legs until a pair of angels stretched between us. He turned his head toward me, his grin softening into something warmer, gentler.

"I like this," he murmured. "Just you and me, acting like kids in the snow."

My heart clenched, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me tighter than his arms ever could. I reached for his hand, our fingers lacing together in the snow.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," I teased, "or I'd bury you in it."

He laughed again, the sound full of unrestrained joy as he tugged me closer. His wings wrapped around us like a shield, keeping the cold at bay as the snow continued to fall. We lay there for a while, watching the snowflakes swirl down from the dimming sky.

Eventually, he whispered, "I'll help warm you up when we go inside—if you admit my snow angel is better than yours."

I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. "Not a chance, general."

Lucien - Ice Skating

"Wait!" I called out to my mate, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself. My knees wobbled dangerously beneath me, the ice beneath the blades of my skates feeling far less forgiving than solid ground.

Lucien turned, easily as if he wasn't on blades. His golden eye shimmered with amusement, the hint of a small smile tugging at his lips. He looked as though he'd been born on skates, while I felt like a newborn fawn—clumsy, awkward, and certain I was seconds away from disaster.

I took a tentative step forward, my arms stretched out as if I could somehow will balance into my uncooperative limbs. The moment my foot moved, I lurched forward, letting out a squeak of panic.

Lucien was there in an instant. I grabbed his jacket instinctively, clinging to him as though he were the only thing standing between me and certain doom.

"Here," he said, his voice warm and steady, "hold my hands." He extended his palms toward me, his confidence so disarming that it made my own nerves feel a bit foolish. Slowly, ever so slowly, I released my death grip on his jacket and slid my trembling hands into his.

"There," he said softly, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles over the backs of my hands. "Be confident, or you'll fall."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered under my breath, glancing down at the ice with a mix of terror and defiance. "My legs are so stiff from the cold I feel like they'll snap in half."

Lucien chuckled, the sound low and rich, like molten honey. "Always so dramatic," he teased, threading his fingers through mine as he took a small step backward, gently pulling me forward.

"Just match my movements," he instructed. His voice was calm, soothing, and so maddeningly self-assured that I almost forgot my fear. Almost.

My brows furrowed in concentration as I tried to follow his lead. My legs refused to cooperate, my body too tense to glide smoothly the way he did. Instead, I felt like a lump of wood teetering on the edge of disaster, certain that at any moment I'd go face-first into the ice.

Sensing my hesitation, Lucien squeezed my hands, and warmth bloomed from where his skin met mine, chasing away the biting chill that had settled in my fingers. The warmth crept up my arms and into my chest, soothing me in a way that only he could.

"See? You're already doing better," he encouraged, his voice laced with pride.

I frowned up at him, catching the faint curve of his lips. "Stop laughing at me," I huffed.

"I'm not laughing," he protested, though his golden eye sparkled with amusement.

"You're smiling," I pointed out accusingly.

"Am I not allowed to smile at my mate?" he countered, his smirk widening.

"No," I shot back, though my voice lacked conviction. "Not when I'm one slip away from breaking every bone in my body."

He laughed then, the sound so genuine and warm that I felt my annoyance melt away. "You're not going to fall," he promised.

"And if I do?" I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Then I'll catch you," he said simply, his voice steady and certain.

Something in the way he said it—like it wasn't just about ice skating, but about everything—made me falter. I swallowed hard, the moment of vulnerability making me cling to him just a little tighter.

"Now," he said, his tone light and teasing again, "let's try this without you looking like you're walking on hot coals."

I glared at him, but I couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up. His confidence was contagious, and as I let him guide me step by step across the ice, I felt my body begin to relax.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges, but with Lucien's steady hands in mine and his unwavering gaze fixed on me, I started to believe that maybe I wouldn't fall. And even if I did, I knew he'd be there to catch me.

Eris - Cocoa

I buzzed with excitement as I topped my steaming mug of cocoa with an indulgent swirl of whipped cream, crowning it with tiny marshmallows that spilled over the rim. The warmth of the drink seeped into my hands as I cradled the mug, savoring the simple joy of the moment.

"Love?" Eris's voice, low and laced with sleep, called from the hallway. I glanced up just as he peeked his head around the corner, his copper hair deliciously ruffled, his sharp amber eyes softened by drowsiness.

"Morning, Eris," I said softly, a smile tugging at my lips. He blinked at me, his expression still crinkled with sleep, and shook his head wordlessly before padding into the room.

Before I could ask what he was doing, he closed the distance between us. Gently, his hands slid over mine, tugging me away from the counter and into the hallway with the sleepy drag of his feet.

"Eris," I began, my voice full of curiosity, "what are you—?"

He didn't answer, his silence as warm and grounding as his touch. His hands in mine felt like slipping into a sun-drenched blanket on a crisp autumn morning. He led me to our bedroom, nudging the door open with a lazy kick. Releasing my hands, he turned to face me, his sharp features soft in the early light.

In one swift motion, his hands found my waist, and he pulled me down onto the bed with him. "Eris," I sighed as he reached for the blankets, cocooning us in their warmth.

"It's too early," he murmured, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he nestled into the crook of my neck.

"My cocoa's going to get cold," I protested half-heartedly, but the argument died on my tongue the moment he tightened his arm around me.

"Just a few minutes," he countered, his words brushing my skin like embers. His fingers began tracing slow, soothing circles along my back, their heat melting away the last of my resistance. He pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck, and I couldn't stop the warmth that bloomed in my chest, spreading like wildfire.

"Fine," I whispered, my resolve crumbling under his touch. "Just a few more minutes."

His only response was a soft hum of approval as I ran my fingers through his unruly hair, combing it away from his face. His quiet breaths and the rhythmic heat of his touch lulled me deeper into the comfort of the moment. Before I knew it, I'd drifted off, enveloped by his warmth.

I woke to the sensation of gentle kisses—one pressed to my forehead, another to my cheek, and then the tip of my nose. I blinked my eyes open, greeted by Eris's amber gaze, glowing with unspoken affection.

"Morning," I rasped, my voice heavy with sleep. "Again."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he leaned in, brushing a kiss against mine. His fingers cradled my jaw, the gesture tender enough to steal my breath.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. His thumb traced the curve of my cheek. "Think your cocoa's cold now?"

My eyes widened as the memory hit me. I scrambled out of bed, rushing to the kitchen as Eris's amused laugh echoed behind me. I skidded to a stop at the counter, frowning down at the abandoned mug. Tentatively, I dipped a finger into the drink. Ice cold.

"It's ruined," I said, pouting as I turned to Eris, who had followed me with his usual unhurried grace. "It was the last of the cocoa powder."

He leaned against the counter, his hair still a mess from sleep, and shook his head with a smirk. "You forget who I am."

Taking the mug from my hands, he held it between his palms. Within seconds, steam curled into the air, and the rich scent of cocoa filled the kitchen once more.

I smiled, biting my lip as I looked up at him. "Show-off."

"There," he said with a grin, handing the mug back to me.

Rising onto my toes, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the warmth of his skin. "Thanks, 'Ris," I murmured, cradling the mug close as I took a tentative sip. The heat spread through me, as rich and comforting as the male watching me with sleepy affection.

"You're welcome, love," he replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His amber gaze held mine, filled with warmth, and I couldn't help but think there was no better way to start the day.

NSFW version here -> Link

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ha-rinrin · 1 month ago

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Echos of Laughter

Summary: You and Jinx are joking around when an annoyed Isha appears, demanding some peace so she can sleep.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 963

Authors note: Hey guys. This was a request, but I accidentally lost it 😭. It was basically what I summarized here. If you're the person who requested it, I'm so sorry I lost your request 😔. I really hope you like how it turned out! 🤞🏻

Masterlist

The hideout was as chaotic as ever. Scattered piles of old crates, mismatched furniture, and bits of scrap metal filled the space, yet it felt oddly cozy. The flickering light from a few scattered lamps cast shadows across the room, the air thick with a mix of dust and the faint smell of burnt gunpowder from Jinx's latest "project."

You and Jinx were stretched out on a large, slightly lumpy couch, the kind of couch that had probably seen better days but was still perfectly comfortable in the midst of all the madness. Jinx, curled up next to you, was having trouble settling down — her fingers tapping restlessly on your arm, her usual buzz of energy refusing to let her fall asleep.

Jinx shifted closer, her fingers tapping a playful rhythm on your arm. You felt her gaze on you, even before her hand sneaked up to poke your cheek.

“Poke,” she whispered with a grin, leaning in so close her breath tickled your skin.

“Jinx,” you groaned softly, swatting her hand away, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a smile.

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re all serious now,” she teased, tilting her head dramatically. “You’re just as much fun as me. Admit it.”

“Fun?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Who got stuck upside down in the ventilation shaft last week because she thought it was a ‘shortcut’?”

“That was a calculated risk!” Jinx shot back, feigning offense, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Besides, I got out, didn’t I?”

“Not without my help,” you quipped, smirking as you remembered the chaos.

Jinx pouted for all of two seconds before she launched her next attack—tickling your sides. You let out a yelp, twisting away from her as you tried to escape her hands.

“Jinx! Stop!” you gasped between laughter, your attempts to push her off only encouraging her more.

“Nope!” she declared triumphantly, straddling your legs to keep you pinned. “This is revenge for all those times you didn’t laugh at my jokes.”

“I always laugh at your jokes!” you argued, still squirming as she grinned down at you, victorious.

“Hmm, debatable,”

Your laughter filled the hideout, echoing off the metal walls and mismatched furniture. Jinx’s grin widened as she leaned closer, her fingers still poised for another tickling attack.

“Shh!” she hissed, though she was laughing herself. “You’re gonna wake up Isha!”

Before you could respond, Jinx's hand shot out, covering your mouth with her palm, silencing you instantly. You tried to push her hand away, but the laughter still bubbled up from your chest, making it impossible to stay quiet.

“Jinx, stop!” you mumbled, unable to fully protest with her hand over your lips.

She grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with playful victory. “Not my fault you’re so loud when you laugh,” she teased, still not letting go.

“Then stop tickling me!” you managed between gasps, trying and failing to push her off.

Jinx froze dramatically, her hands hovering mid-air as she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? You’re the one with the loudest laugh ever.”

“You’re the one who started this!” you shot back, breathless but smiling.

She smirked, tapping a finger to her chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm, fair point. But…” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m not done yet!”

“Don’t you dare—”

But before you could finish, she pounced again, her hands finding their way back to your sides, and you dissolved into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

You froze mid-laugh, your gaze catching movement from the corner of your eye. There, standing just outside her little tent, was Isha. She was clad in her adorable mismatched pajamas, complete with tiny rocket ships and moons, her arms firmly crossed over her chest. Her expression, however, was anything but cute. With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, she stared you both down, her entire posture screaming, Let me sleep.

Jinx followed your gaze and immediately burst into a wide grin. “Oh no,” she whispered theatrically, nudging you. “We’ve been caught by the sleep police.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh again as Isha’s glare intensified. Despite her silence, the message was clear. She tapped her wrist dramatically, as if pointing to an invisible watch, then raised a brow at Jinx.

“What?” Jinx said innocently, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “It’s not even that late!”

Isha tilted her head, her expression unimpressed, before dramatically pointing at her tent and then miming covering her ears. You could almost hear her saying, You’re loud, and I can’t sleep.

You stifled a giggle, whispering, “We should probably let her rest.”

Jinx, never one to back down, leaned closer to you and whispered back, “But she’s just so cute when she’s mad. Look at her little pajamas!”

You nudged Jinx in the ribs, trying to hold back your own laughter. “Jinx, stop.”

Isha, catching Jinx’s teasing expression, rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration before throwing her hands up and stomping back into her tent. The little door flap swayed dramatically behind her as she disappeared inside.

Jinx let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “oof. Someone’s got an attitude tonight.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered, shooting her a pointed look.

Jinx grinned sheepishly before flopping back onto the couch beside you. “Okay, okay, no more tickling. For now.”

You sighed, settling back into the cushions as the hideout fell quiet again. “Good. Let’s try to get some sleep before Isha really loses it.”

Jinx snorted softly, curling up next to you. “She loves us. She can’t stay mad forever.”

You glanced at the tent flap, still swaying slightly, and shook your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, her grin audible in her voice as she snuggled closer.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx x y/n #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx league of legends #jinx posting #jinx lol

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misswynters · 1 month ago

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A lazy and calm day with ekko

short drabble / just fluffy and kisses

requested by. @strawberry-pie-thoughts

For the past few days, it had been long and grueling—scraps with enforcers, an unexpected sabotage run, and hours spent ensuring that the neighborhood stayed safe. It had taken a toll on you both, and now the world outside seemed impossibly far away.

Ekko lay beside you on the cozy bed, his head nestled against your shoulder as his arm draped across your waist. The low light of the room danced across his features, softening the usual sharp determination in his gaze. Instead, his expression was one of quiet exhaustion, his breathing even and calm, though you could tell by the tension still lingering in his body that he hadn’t fully let the day go.

You shifted slightly, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek. His skin was warm, a few faint smudges of grime still marking his jaw despite his attempts to clean up earlier. He turned his face into your touch instinctively, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet your gaze.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soft, carrying the weight of his concern even through his exhaustion.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “But what about you? You’ve been running around all day.”

Ekko chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting as it rumbled through him. “Takes more than that to knock me out,” he teased, though his words were undercut by the way his eyes slipped closed again, his body melting further into your embrace. “But being with you sure helps.”

Your heart swelled at his admission, and you let your hands roam up to cradle his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. He opened his eyes again, the soft brown of his irises warm and inviting as they locked onto yours. Without thinking, you leaned forward, peppering gentle kisses along his temple, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Each press of your lips was slow, deliberate, filled with affection that made him relax further under your touch.

Ekko let out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to mimic yours, his fingers brushing tenderly over your jaw as he cupped your face in return. “You trying to put me to sleep?” he teased, though the words were accompanied by a quiet smile, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“Maybe,” you replied, a playful lilt in your voice as you leaned into his touch. “You deserve a break, though. I mean it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. Slowly, he leaned up, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so sweet it made your heart ache. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. Just pure and simple, the kind of kiss that spoke of trust and comfort. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and the tension in his body seemed to dissolve entirely.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer until you were tangled together, legs intertwined as you lay in the soft quiet of the room.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as you exchanged soft kisses and murmured words, both of you too tired to move but too comfortable to care. His fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, and your hands ran over his back in soothing circles. It was perfect—just the two of you in your own little world, far from the chaos and danger outside. You felt his breathing even out, his body growing heavier as sleep threatened to pull him under. You were just about to close your eyes yourself when a sudden knock at the door shattered the peace.

Ekko groaned, his head burying into the crook of your neck as if he could will the interruption away. “Not now,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Ekko,” came Scar’s voice from the other side of the door. “You in there? Need to talk.”

With a heavy sigh, Ekko propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze flicking to the door before returning to you. “One sec,” he called out, his voice laced with irritation. He turned back to you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry about this,” he murmured, though the annoyance in his voice wasn’t directed at you.

“Don’t be,” you replied, giving him a soft smile. “I’ll be right here.”

He nodded, then raised his voice again. “Is it urgent, Scar? ‘Cause if it’s not, it can wait.”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear Scar weighing his options. “I mean… it’s not that urgent,” he admitted. “But—”

“Then tomorrow,” Ekko interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m not getting up tonight, man. Not unless the place is on fire.”

Another pause, followed by a reluctant, “Alright. Tomorrow, then.”

When the sound of Scar’s footsteps retreated, Ekko collapsed back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, his head finding its place against your chest this time. “I swear, if one more person interrupts us tonight…”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “They’d better be prepared to face my wrath,” you teased as you swished his cheeks softly, earning a low chuckle from him.

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer. “Because I’m not moving. Not tonight, not tomorrow morning… maybe not ever.”

You smiled, resting your cheek against his hair as your fingers traced gentle patterns along his back. “Fine by me,” you whispered, your eyes slipping closed as the warmth of his embrace lulled you toward sleep.

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pucksandpower · 3 months ago

Text

I’m Your Daddy Now

Day 6 → Daddy Kink 💋 Carlos Sainz

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Carlos steps out of the club, the air heavy with the distant thrum of bass. It’s Ibiza — sweltering, chaotic, suffocating.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead and stretches his neck, glancing back at the mess inside. VIP, the promise of space and status, had turned into a sardine can. No room to breathe, no air to think. Everyone’s clamoring for more — more drinks, more noise, more of each other. He needs a break.

Outside, it’s no less chaotic, but at least there’s air. The lights from the club cast strange shadows across the street, flashing in sync with the music that pulses through the walls. His shoulders drop a fraction, relaxing.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees you.

You’re stumbling — no, swaying, more like it. The dress you’re in barely qualifies as clothing, clinging to your body, shimmering under the lights. He knows the look in your eyes too well, glazed over, the movements too slow, too disjointed. You’re too far gone. Drunk? High? Probably both.

Carlos watches for a second, maybe two, before his instincts kick in. His feet start moving, eyes narrowing, as if zoning in on you could fix you in place, prevent you from drifting any further into the chaos of the night.

When he’s close enough, he leans in just enough to catch your attention but not enough to startle. His voice is low, authoritative. “What would your daddy say if he saw you like this?”

You blink, unfocused. “Daddy?” Your laugh comes out broken, short. “Never had one. Wouldn’t know.”

Carlos straightens up, a frown flickering across his face. “You don’t have a daddy?” His tone is almost mocking, teasing. “Then I guess I’m your daddy now.”

You laugh again, stumbling forward, nearly toppling into him. “Yeah?” You slur. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Carlos doesn’t laugh. He hooks his arm under your waist, pulling you upright before you faceplant onto the cobblestones. Your body’s limp against him, your breath reeking of tequila or something even stronger.

He speaks, more to himself than to you. “You’re not staying here. Not like this.”

You mutter something, but the words dissolve into gibberish. Carlos shakes his head, feeling a strange knot twist in his chest. Something between concern and frustration.

Where are your friends? How did no one notice you slipping this far? His mind flashes back to earlier in the night — the crowd, the sea of faces. None of them would care, not really. Not if you didn’t show up tomorrow.

“Well,” Carlos says, more determined now. “I’m taking care of you.”

Without hesitation, he bends down, looping his arm under your knees and tossing you over his shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp, but it quickly melts into incoherent mumbling as your head dangles, your arms limp.

“What? What are you-” you sputter, but your words are barely strung together.

Carlos adjusts you on his shoulder, firm but not rough. “Taking you home,” he replies, his voice steady, controlled. “Can’t leave you like this. Not a chance.”

As he walks, you start to squirm, but it’s weak. “No, no, no,” you mutter, but there’s no conviction in it. You’re too far gone to fight, too far gone to think straight.

Carlos ignores your weak protest, his stride never faltering. He knows what people might think if they saw him now, carrying you like this, but the crowd is oblivious, and he doesn’t care. His mind is set.

Reaching his car, Carlos shifts you in his arms, carefully lowering you into the passenger seat. He brushes your hair out of your face, taking in how disoriented you look. You’re barely holding on to consciousness, your head lolling back against the seat.

You glance at him, trying to focus. “Why?” You mumble, eyes half-closed. “Why are you ... doing this?”

Carlos pauses, his hand resting on the edge of the door. “Because no one else is,” he says simply, his voice firm, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet protectiveness. “You can’t take care of yourself right now. So, I will.”

You squint at him, as if trying to piece together what he’s saying, but it’s clear you’re losing the battle to stay awake. “Don’t ... need you,” you slur, though it lacks any bite.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, you don’t get to decide that tonight.” He shuts the passenger door with a solid thud, circling to the driver’s side.

As he starts the car, you slump further into the seat, murmuring something unintelligible. Carlos glances over at you every now and then, his grip on the wheel tight, jaw set. There’s a heavy silence between you two now, but it’s not uncomfortable — it’s just ... there.

You shift slightly, eyes half-open again. “Where’re we going?” You ask, your voice a quiet, broken whisper.

Carlos doesn’t look at you when he answers. “Someplace safe.” His voice is steady, but there’s an undercurrent of something else there — something resolute, something protective. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

You close your eyes again, too exhausted, too far gone to argue. Carlos drives in silence, the night stretching out in front of him, the lights of Ibiza flickering in the rearview mirror.

He doesn’t know what your story is, doesn’t know how you ended up in the state you’re in tonight, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t care. You’re his responsibility now, at least for tonight. And that’s enough for him.

Carlos glances over at you one last time as you drift off into a restless sleep, your breathing deepening. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind already set.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up in a safe place. Tomorrow, you’ll be sober, and maybe you’ll hate him for taking control when you couldn’t. But tonight? Tonight, you’re his to protect.

And he’s going to make damn sure you’re safe.

***

Carlos pulls up to his hotel, the valet glancing at the car before quickly looking away, recognizing the man behind the wheel. Without a word, Carlos steps out, walks around the car, and opens the passenger door.

You're still barely conscious, slumped against the seat. With an ease that speaks to both his strength and control, he lifts you out, cradling you against his chest as he strides toward the entrance.

The elevator ride is silent except for your shallow breathing. Carlos’ jaw is tight, his mind churning with a mix of concern and frustration. The numbers blink by, floor after floor, until finally, the doors open to the luxury suite. He walks inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet finality.

He sets you down on the plush couch, your body slumping into the cushions. You blink up at him, bleary-eyed, struggling to focus.

“Where ...” You start, but your voice trails off, weak.

Carlos stands over you, arms crossed, looking down with a mixture of disappointment and something deeper — something protective. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed tonight,” he says, his voice low, firm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You blink again, the words barely registering in your hazy mind. “I wasn’t ... I don’t know,” you mumble, trying to sit up, but your body doesn’t quite cooperate. “I’m fine.”

Carlos’ eyes narrow. “Fine? You can’t even sit up properly.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “You put yourself in danger. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

You don’t answer, your mind still foggy, but something in his tone makes your heart race. There’s an edge to his voice, a command that cuts through the haze.

Carlos steps closer, looming over you. “I can’t believe you’re just brushing this off.” His voice is sharper now, frustration lacing each word. “Do you have no idea how stupid that was?”

You shake your head, but it’s a feeble gesture. “Didn’t mean to ...” you mumble, not even sure what you’re apologizing for.

Carlos doesn’t let up. “You need to understand something.” He crouches down in front of you, his face close, his voice low and intense. “If you can’t take care of yourself, then I’ll have to do it for you. And clearly, you’ve proven tonight that you need someone to teach you better.”

You blink, your pulse quickening. There’s a tension in the air now, thick and heavy. Carlos stands again, his expression unreadable as he reaches down, taking your wrist in his hand and pulling you gently but firmly to your feet. You stumble slightly, but he steadies you, his grip unyielding.

“Come here,” he says, his voice softer now but still carrying that commanding edge.

You’re too dazed to resist as he leads you to the large armchair by the window, sitting down and pulling you across his lap in one swift motion. You let out a soft gasp, but the reality of the situation still isn’t sinking in.

Carlos’ hand presses against the small of your back, holding you in place as he speaks. “You need to apologize.”

“For what?” Your voice is small, unsure.

“For putting yourself in danger,” he says, his tone firm but controlled. “You need to understand how serious this is.”

Your heart races, the fog in your mind starting to clear just enough for you to realize what’s happening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, though the words feel hollow, automatic.

Carlos’ grip tightens slightly. “No, you’re not,” he says quietly. “Not yet. But you will be.”

Before you can process his words, his hand comes down against you, a sharp crack that makes you gasp. It’s not painful, not really, but the shock of it sends a jolt through your entire body.

“Count,” he commands, his voice steady, unyielding.

You hesitate, your breath hitching. “One.”

Another crack, this one sharper, more deliberate. Your body tenses against his lap.

“Two,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

Carlos doesn’t slow down. His hand comes down again and again, each time punctuated by your trembling voice counting the numbers aloud. By the time you reach five, your voice is barely a whisper, your body trembling with each strike. Tears prick at your eyes, but you force yourself to keep counting.

“Six ...” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek. “Seven ...”

Carlos’ movements are measured, controlled. He’s not being cruel, but there’s no mistaking the firmness in his actions, the lesson he’s intent on teaching.

By the time you reach ten, the tears are falling freely, your voice shaking with each apology. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, over and over again, the words barely coherent.

Carlos pauses then, his hand resting on your lower back as he watches you. “What are you sorry for?” He asks quietly.

“For ... for putting myself in danger,” you sob, your voice broken. “I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The words slip out without thinking, but Carlos doesn’t react immediately. He lets the silence hang between you for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on both of you.

Finally, he exhales, his hand moving in slow circles over your backside, soothing the sting he’s left behind. “Good,” he says quietly. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

You’re still trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks as you lie across his lap, your body limp with exhaustion and emotion. Carlos’ hand moves to your legs, gently lifting you off his lap and shifting you into his arms. He holds you against his chest, rocking you slightly, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, his voice softer, gentler. “I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, your tears soaking into his shirt, but you don’t care. All you can do is keep whispering the same words, over and over again. “I’m sorry, Daddy ... I’m so sorry ...”

Carlos’ hand continues to rub your back in slow, soothing circles, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “I know,” he says softly. “I know you are. But you have to be better. You can’t do this again.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I promise ... I won’t.”

Carlos pulls you tighter against him, his chin resting on top of your head as he continues to rock you gently. “Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “That’s my good girl.”

You stay like that for what feels like forever, wrapped in his arms, the weight of the night slowly melting away. And as your tears dry, and your breathing steadies, you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time — safe.

And you know, deep down, that Carlos isn’t just saying the words. He is your daddy now. And he’s going to make sure you never put yourself in harm’s way again.

***

The first light of morning filters through the heavy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Carlos shifts slightly, his back against the headboard, one arm wrapped protectively around you.

He hasn’t slept much. Not that it matters. He’s content, watching the way your chest rises and falls steadily, your body curled up against him, your face nuzzled into his side. You look so small there, tucked against him like you belong.

A soft sound breaks the silence — a quiet whimper that escapes your lips, almost inaudible, but it catches Carlos’ attention immediately. You shift slightly, your brows furrowing, and you whimper again, a breathless, needy sound.

Carlos tightens his arm around you, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. “Shhh, cariño. I’ve got you.”

You press yourself closer to him in your sleep, your legs tangling with his as you move, your body instinctively seeking his warmth. Carlos watches you for a moment longer, his hand sliding down your side, his touch gentle and possessive all at once.

His hand moves lower, and he feels the heat of your skin beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. His fingers slide between your thighs, finding the soft bundle of nerves that’s already swollen and sensitive. He circles it slowly, deliberately, his touch light but insistent.

Your body reacts instantly, a soft moan slipping from your lips, your hips shifting against his hand. You’re still mostly asleep, hovering somewhere between dream and waking, but your body knows him, responds to him without hesitation.

Carlos leans down, his lips brushing your ear. “Wake up, princesa,” he coos softly, his voice low and tender. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

You stir, your eyes fluttering open, dazed and unfocused at first, your mind still catching up to what’s happening. But the sensation between your legs, the way Carlos’ fingers circle you so perfectly, pulls you fully into the moment.

A whimper escapes your lips, your hips bucking slightly against his hand. “Daddy …”

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his other hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you even closer to him. “Just enjoy, cariño. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breathing quickens, your body arching against him as his fingers work you over, slow and steady, bringing you right to the edge without pushing you over. It’s torture — sweet, aching torture — and you can’t stop the soft moans that spill from your lips, each one more desperate than the last.

“Please …” you breathe, your voice shaky, barely coherent.

Carlos hums softly in response, his thumb pressing down on your bundle in a way that makes your entire body tremble. “You want to come, don’t you?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper, full of dark, teasing promise.

You nod frantically, your hands clutching at his arm, your body moving on instinct now, your hips grinding against his hand. “Please, Daddy…”

A low, satisfied sound rumbles in Carlos’ chest, and he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs. “Let go for me. Let me take care of you.”

His fingers press harder, moving in slow, deliberate circles that send sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. You’re teetering on the edge, your mind foggy with need, and when his lips brush your ear again, whispering sweet encouragements, it’s enough to push you over.

You cry out, your body shuddering against him as the orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure that makes your head spin. Carlos doesn’t stop, his fingers working you through it, coaxing every last bit of release from you until you’re a trembling, breathless mess in his arms.

When it’s over, your body goes limp, slumping against him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Carlos’ hand moves to stroke your hair, his touch gentle now, soothing.

“There you go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl. You did so well for me.”

You can barely respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release. But you manage a soft, broken “Thank you, Daddy,” as you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes fluttering shut again, exhaustion overtaking you.

Carlos holds you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you drift back to sleep. His mind is quiet now, the frustration from the night before gone, replaced by something softer, something more possessive. You’re his now. And he’ll make sure you never forget that.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he whispers, his lips brushing your hair. “I promise.”

***

The air in the room is warm, filled with the soft hum of the city outside the window. Carlos stands by the floor-to-ceiling glass, one hand resting against the frame, watching the traffic below. The months have slipped by in a blur of race weekends, private jets, and the quiet moments in between where he has you.

Always there. Always close. Just how he likes it.

He glances over his shoulder at you, sitting on the edge of the bed, legs folded underneath you, your soft gaze fixed on him. There’s something about the way you look at him now, like he’s the only thing in your world that matters. You’ve grown so used to his presence, so accustomed to his touch and his commands, that it’s like second nature to you. It pleases him, the way you’ve fallen so easily into this role.

But tonight, there’s something else on his mind. A question that’s been nagging at him. How far under his control have you really fallen? How deeply has he embedded himself into your mind, into your very being?

Carlos turns from the window and walks toward the bed, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. But there’s none. You look up at him, your expression open, expectant, as if waiting for whatever he’s about to say or do next.

He sits down beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. For a moment, he just looks at you, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. There’s something intimate about the silence between you, the unspoken understanding that has developed over time. But tonight, he’s going to push a little further. See just how far he’s brought you.

“Come here,” he says softly, patting his lap.

You move instantly, like it’s instinct now, settling into his lap, your head resting against his chest. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you close. For a moment, he simply holds you, letting the quiet stretch out between you both.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me these last few months,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Haven’t you?”

You nod against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, the words so automatic now, so ingrained in your mind.

Carlos smiles at the sound, that familiar name falling from your lips like it’s the only one you’ve ever known for him. And that’s exactly what he wants to test.

He tilts your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look at him. “Do you know how good you’ve been for me?” He asks, his voice low, almost teasing. “So good that I’m starting to wonder … if you even remember anything before me.”

You blink, confusion flickering in your eyes for a brief second. “What do you mean?”

Carlos smiles again, this time with more purpose. He strokes your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a touch that’s both gentle and possessive.

“What’s my name?” He asks quietly, the question dropping into the space between you like a stone into still water.

You blink again, and Carlos watches the subtle shift in your expression. You hesitate, just for a second, like the question doesn’t quite register with you. And then, your lips part, the softest sound coming out.

“Daddy.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “No, no. I mean, my real name. What’s my name?”

The confusion deepens in your eyes, and you shift slightly in his lap, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt as if searching for some anchor. Your brows furrow, and you bite your lip, trying to think. But the answer doesn’t come as quickly as you’d expect.

“Daddy,” you repeat, your voice a little more uncertain now, like you’re not quite sure if that’s the right answer, but it’s the only one you have.

Carlos hums thoughtfully, his fingers tracing slow circles on your hip. “Are you telling me you’ve forgotten my name?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s an edge of control there, a test of how deep his hold on you really is.

Your eyes search his, desperate for some clue, but all you find is that same patient, knowing smile. Your heart races, your mind suddenly blank. “I … I don’t …” you stammer, your voice trembling slightly.

Carlos’ hand moves to your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as he tilts your head back a little more, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Say my name,” he commands softly.

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling, but the only name that comes to your lips is the one you’ve been calling him for months. “Daddy.”

Carlos’ smile deepens, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he leans closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “That’s the only name you know, isn’t it?” He whispers, his voice dark and velvety, filled with satisfaction.

You nod slowly, the realization dawning on you that you can’t remember ever calling him anything else. That name — his real name — it’s there, somewhere in the back of your mind, but it feels so distant, so unimportant compared to the one you’ve grown so used to. The one that feels right.

“Good girl,” Carlos murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so far gone, aren’t you? You don’t even need to remember my name anymore.”

You shiver in his lap, a mix of fear and something else — something deeper, more vulnerable — filling you as his words sink in. The way he looks at you now, like he’s proud of how far you’ve fallen under his control, makes your heart race.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, though you’re not even sure why. It just feels like the right thing to say.

Carlos chuckles softly, his hand sliding down your back, holding you tighter against him. “Sorry for what, cariño?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone.

“For … for forgetting,” you say, your voice small, your fingers clinging to his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his voice gentle now, soothing. “You’ve done exactly what I wanted. You belong to me. And from now on, the only name you’ll ever need to remember is Daddy.”

You nod against his chest, your body relaxing into his hold, the tension slowly fading as his words sink in. He strokes your hair, his touch comforting, reassuring.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Carlos whispers, his lips brushing your forehead. “You don’t need to worry about anything else. Just stay here, with me, and I’ll make sure you’re always safe.”

You breathe in deeply, your body going limp in his arms, the last remnants of doubt fading away. “I will,” you whisper back, your voice soft but certain. “I’ll stay with you, Daddy.”

Carlos smiles, satisfied with your response, his fingers trailing slowly down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence once again, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside and your steady breathing as you rest against him. Carlos holds you close, his hand stroking your back, his mind still turning over everything that’s happened.

He knew you were his. He knew you’d fallen completely under his control. But hearing it now — seeing the way you can’t even remember his real name — fills him with a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t expected. You’re his, fully and completely, and there’s no going back.

“It’s a good thing,” Carlos says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re mine. And you’ll never need to worry about anything else.”

You nod against his chest, your body relaxing even more, your trust in him absolute. “I’m yours, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft and full of quiet devotion.

Carlos smiles, his hand continuing to stroke your hair as he holds you close. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. “Always mine.”

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chaptersleftunwritten · 3 months ago

Text

Demanding more

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Blurb: After Chrissy’s unfaithfulness to Eddie, Eddie realises that maybe he has been harbouring feelings for you for longer than he ever cared to notice. Is it too late for him to make it up to you?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, slight angst (I know, I’m sorry!), mutual pining, cursing, alcohol consumption, trust issues, claustrophobia, some out of character anger from Eddie, reckless fire usage, pet names, kissing. Characters are 20+

divider by @sxmmerberries & @reveriesources

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

Silence. A deep void of idle and infinite dark.

“I need to know that you’re going to be okay, at least…”

A plead. Bruised knees. Quaking breath. Clasped hands shaking. No rest.

“What do you want me to say? Tell me word for word and I’ll say it.” Eddie’s voice is a hoarse croak and the small light that you harbour in your chest dampens further at the sound, “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t understand why you keep coming back to see me.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because you’re my friend.” The blade wedged into the bone of your sternum plunges further and twists mercilessly; so agonisingly paralysing that you almost wince aloud at the pain.

Red, tear burnt eyes meet yours and you internally flinch at the sight. You’ve never seen Eddie this way. So broken… so defeated.

It’s as if nettles sting at your own eyes and you blink away any moisture that threatens to gather on your waterline, “We are friends, right?” You ask again. Breathless and uncertain.

Before the chaos of the fight at the party you couldn’t remember much, so it scared you to know that you had contact with Eddie and you couldn’t remember what you had said to him. Or what he had said to you…

“Correct.” He forces a smile, just for you.

The relief that washes over you dissolves the palpable tension that smothered the air and Eddie feels his own rigidness melt away at the realisation that you weren’t the one who hurt him. Yes, you were Chrissy’s friend, but you weren’t her. You weren’t Chrissy. And you didn’t deserve this cold shoulder that he was dishing out to everyone.

He could be himself around you.

“I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much.” He offers you a tight lipped smile and you return one similar except that it was full of sincerity and warmth.

“I get that I can’t change what happened, but I can be here with you and hold your hand through the storm,” you sigh softly, adverting your gaze to a nearby decaying rose. It’s petals have turned a dark wine colour and its stem has moulded, “I know what it’s like to watch someone that you lov- admire, turn their attention to someone else. Someone that isn’t you.” Your mouth sours and you feel your lips pinch downward at the corners faintly, “It gets easier with time. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll love you until their dying breath.”

The cool breeze lifts your hair from your knitted sweater clad shoulders, allowing the strands to flow freely behind you. You embrace the feeling of the freshness upon your skin. There was something so comforting about it. Something so freeing: like being reborn. Rejuvenated. You allow your eyes to close momentarily as you replenish yourself, letting your spirit breathe.

You quickly clam up at the sight of Eddie’s hawk like gaze fixated on your face when your eyes reopen and your cheeks flush furiously; your body’s way of punishing you for being so open and vulnerable around him.

“You seem like you’re busy,” you gesture knowingly to the scrap pieces of paper laid in front of him that had a bunch of sloppily written lyrics scored across it, “I’ll leave you be.” You punctuate your words with a brisk rise to your feet and you flatten out your jeans mindlessly that had become wrinkled from being perched cross legged on the grass. Eddie’s eyes never leave you. Not for a second.

“I’ll see you around, then?” He asks, his voice is a croak.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, Eddie.” You sling your heavy book bag over your shoulder as you prepare yourself to walk away.

He stops you in your tracks, “Call me Ed’s.” It’s evident that Eddie didn’t intend for his words to sound as desperate as they did and you try your best to ignore the plea in his voice. Out of respect for him and his situation.

“Okay.” You breathe softly with a nod and a sweet but sombre smile, “Bye, Ed’s.”

Eddie’s eyes warm as they watch you walk away and he even chuckles lightly to himself at how you look bashfully back at him over your shoulder; only to quickly dart your vision in front of you at the realisation that he was also admiring you.

And in that exact moment, Eddie can see a light at the end of this endless dark tunnel. In the form of a friend. An honest, loving and cherished friend…

You.

‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’

William Shakespeare

Part of you felt sickeningly grateful that this had happened. As much as you hated the fact that Eddie was wounded, it gave you a feeling of opportunity. To be there for him and for him to realise how great you can be. How perfect you are for him.

However, upon witnessing his stinging red and bloodshot eyes that could only have come from his penetrative sadness you realise that you couldn’t see this as an ‘opportunity’. You couldn’t throw yourself at his feet and hope for his love to finally be requited. Not with him being so deeply hurt. So vulnerable and delicate.

Not delicate like a flower. Delicate like a bomb.

These silly ideals only happened in the fairy tales. The prince saves the princess from the wicked villain and they run off together to live happily ever after. But this was real life…

And there was no one coming to save you.

So instead, you settle for just being his friend. The friend that he has always had. The friend, that is all you’ll ever be to Edward Munson.

There comes a tricky time in your life where you just have to accept that some things will never be. They weren’t written in the stars the way you had always dreamed. Your prayers weren’t answered and all of your attempts at happiness and perfection fail.

You have to accept it. And move on.

No matter the cost. No matter how agonising. You had to ignore the gaping hole in your chest that laid bleeding all over the earth beneath your feet. Your sky tainted red with blood and fury and your tears and skin were flames. You had to endure this Hell.

For him.

And you could do it. You had walked through fire before— you were numb to the blistering heat.

But what you couldn’t handle was the claustrophobia you were feeling at The Hideout whilst you watched Eddie rock his feelings out from his bones. From his quaking soul. The low lit hall was captured in a Hellish red glowing aura and reality begins to distort around you.

“I wrote a song for a girl that wasn’t really worth my time,” Sweat glistens on Eddie’s body, dripping down the curve of his neck and from his face. His drenched black unruly curls stick to his forehead and you watch a drunken and sinister smile possess his face as he pulls a few sheets of paper from the back pocket of his distressed jeans, “And what’d you do when people waste your time?” He is handed a petrol lighter by Gareth, “You burn that shit to the fucking ground!” He screams in a rage you have never heard come from his sweet pillowy lips as he flicks the flint and engulfs the pages in hot red crimson. A strum from his guitar screeches through the space, rattling your ears and causing your heart to palpitate heavily.

The crowd goes ballistic, like wild animals and you are suddenly in a mosh pit of adrenaline surged metal heads. All banging their heads and leaping around. People grab your shoulders to try to propel themselves upward and into the band’s line of vision all whilst unknowingly forcing you down toward the linoleum ground.

Black spots fill your vision and your knees threaten to give out beneath you as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. An avalanche of sweaty body’s drowning you until you are nearly crouched onto the floor and you accept your fate as your hands brace themselves— stuck to the tarnished pattern beneath your sneakers.

“Woah, woah, woah!! Guys, c’mon! Open up! Open the fuck up! Let’s be respectful!” Eddie leaps from the stage platform and the crowd parts like the Red Sea at his presence, “Not cool man, this isn’t what we do here.” Gareth continues to drum on a beat as Eddie’s silhouette looms over you like a dark angel sent from above. His palm outstretched toward your cowering frame and you take it hesitantly; caught off guard by his strength that springs you to your feet.

“Y’alright, sweetheart? You good?” Your chest heaves for air as Eddie leads you back through the crowd and to the front of the stage, his hand clutching yours like there’s no tomorrow, “Stay right here where I can see ya.” One of his chocolate brown eyes wink at you and you feel as if you could levitate.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah! Let’s fucking do this!!” And the song continues to shock and shake the room with every pulse and strum of an instrument. The crowd returning back to how they were moments ago.

Feral.

And Eddie meant what he said. He was looking at you the entire time. Making sure you were okay.

“So…” you twirl a strand of your hair around your index finger. It wasn’t intentionally flirtatious, it was something you found great comfort in when you were feeling particularly on edge and Eddie had the scary capability of always putting you there: teetering on possibility of falling from the cliff side, “You really wrote a song for Chrissy?”

The stalky man hums, “Yeah. It was garbage, though. It wasn’t real… in the end.” His gentle eyes harden, “The lesson here is that not everyone deserves a song written about them. I don’t know how all the bigger musicians do it all of the time. So faux. So deluding.” He sips at a can of beer he has held loosely between his fingers, “Thank you for coming tonight. It got a bit rowdy in there.”

A set of traffic lights above your head capsulate you and Eddie in a ghoulish green haze, sharpening your features and turning Eddie’s chocolate eyes to look more like deep and black bullet holes. No light was reflected in them. They gaped and swallowed every speck.

“You have such raw talent, Ed’s. It would silly of me to not come and see you play.” You offer him a toothy grin, “Besides, when you make it to be big and famous I can say ‘Hey, I know that guy!’ And everyone will swoon and ask me for stories about you.” Your comic words cause Eddie to laugh and shake his head.

“You won’t have to tell people that you know me, Hon. I’ll be there in the flesh to solidify your fairytales.” The way Eddie spoke enchanted you. It didn’t matter what he was saying— he had this magical enticing lull to his voice that sent you into a trance of total calmness. You were incredibly smitten by him.

The pizza place across the street engulfs your nostrils with the perfume of freshly baked bread and burnt cheese. The lights on the building flicker in your peripheral and you watch as people pumped full of toxins waddle and sway their way over to it from The Hideout. Drunk and in desperate need of some grease and salt.

“You saved me tonight, Y’know? If it weren’t for you I think I would’ve been crushed to death in there.” The chilly night air around you stills, “Truly. You are my knight in shining leather, Eddie Munson.” You pinch at the sleeve of his leather jacket with a giggle and Eddie crushes his beer can with a soft smile and tosses it into a nearby trash bin.

“You’re welcome, M’lady,” He bows down in front of you, almost curtsying, “It was a treacherous journey indeed and an act of cowardly courage but it ensured your safety. So, it was a risk worth pursuing.”

He was such a nerd and his dorkiness made you laugh a little too abruptly. But it was something you loved so much about him. His ability to stay creative and to stay in touch with his inner child. His vulnerability and his strength. You admired it. You were enamoured by him.

“How are you getting home tonight? Do you have a ride?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I was probably going to walk and take in the night air. It’s not too late.” You give a tiny shrug of your shoulders and Eddie eyes you knowingly, his head tilted to the side.

“I can drive you. If you want?” His ringed fingers plunge into the pockets of his coat and you chew your lip in thought.

Of course you wanted him to take you home. But it was best for you to remain two steps away from him. For the safety of your own heart.

“You’ve been drinking tonight… I don’t think it would be wise for us to climb into a piece of heavy machinery together.” Eddie’s eyes flicker from you to over his right shoulder as he peeks at his van that is parked across the street a few paces away. A small yellow ticket adorns his windshield and he curses under his breath at the sight of it.

Eddie’s head bounces in the form of a nod, “You’re right. Safer that way,” He palms the back of his neck in a wringing motion, “I’ll see you soon then? Maybe you can call me when you get home… to let me know you’re okay. Obviously.”

A side of Eddie you had never seen before was beginning to unveil itself to you and you were sceptical of if it were a good thing or bad thing. He was being overly cautious and protective of you and your whereabouts. He was showing you such care and consideration. Was he using you as a rebound? Or did he genuinely worry for you?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You bite back the acid ridden annoyance in your tone, trying your best not to jump to any conclusions about Eddie’s intentions with you. But with the way he was looking at you, how were you supposed to truly know?

“I’ll wait by the phone.” He smiles so sweetly it could cause your teeth to decay— but that paranoid part of you wouldn’t allow you to enjoy this moment. The bruised pieces of your heart were telling you to run far far away. And to never look back.

“Goodnight, Eddie.” Your voice was rushed and monotonous.

“Call me, Ed’s—“

Your back is turned swifter than the gust of wind whipping at your face and hair and Eddie watches you, helplessly, as you disappear into the thick of the night with a slightly dampened heart and a small frown on his face.

‘Love is friendship that has caught fire.’

Ann Landers

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the phone receiver, groggy and hoarse. Your heart does somersaults in your chest and excitement finds itself burying between your thighs.

“Did you wait by the phone?” You reply, slightly embarrassed and meek. It was now 1:30am and the night was beginning to spill into the morning. You were becoming delirious with lack of sleep and it was bleeding through every word you spoke.

“It’s you,” He chirps much more perkily now, “Did you get home alright?” You can hear a shift of fabric on the other end of the line, like a duvet cover rustling and you can only assume that Eddie was repositioning himself in bed.

“Yeah, that’s why I called, actually. I wanted to let you know I was okay. I didn’t want you to worry…” You don’t quite understand why you said it, but you did. Over the past couple of weeks Eddie had hinted at caring for you. He had given you more attention than ever before and so naturally… you thought he really did care. And that he might actually be worried about you making it home in one piece.

“Thanks.” The line goes quiet for a quick beat and it gives your paranoia every just cause to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You finish your sentence with an unintentional gulp as your mouth longs for hydration.

“I was only dozing off a little, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called, sweetheart.” There’s that nickname again. The one you have come to adore. You can hear his sleepy smile through the phone, “You are probably the only person who has ever called me this late,” His quiet laugh is fatigued and careful as to not alarm his uncle who is destined to be sleeping close by, “Did you enjoy the concert tonight?”

You hum, “I did.”

Eddie hums a tune back, like a bird singing you to sleep, “And what was your favourite song?”

You are quiet for a moment, reminiscent and concentrated.

“I would have to say the one about the rose. I hadn’t heard it before,” You grin to yourself, “Can you sing it for me?”

There is a shocked waver to Eddie’s deep voice, “What— like, right now?” You can sense his jitters through the telephone.

“Only the chorus…” Although he can’t see your face, you pout out your bottom lip pleadingly, “Please?”

There is another shift of movement on the other end of the line and Eddie clears his throat, full of hesitance, “Alright.” His voice is clipped, “Just remember that this debuted today so it is basically still a work in progress…”

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint his emotion, but you could tell that he was experiencing some sort of shyness and there was a slight withdrawal. He was no longer as confident as he was talking to you moments ago.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I was only joking around—“

“No no, I want to. I’m glad you liked it… it means a lot to me, darling.”

Darling. That’s a new one.

Vibrations hit your ears as Eddie skilfully hums the tune to the song, manipulating his voice to lyrically match his beautifully dark words.

“And even if you were nothing but a wilted flower with a shrinking stem, I would still hold you close and preserve you in the worn pages of my blackened heart. The reason that I’m breathing, the love that keeps me reaping… oh.. oh oh,” He pauses for breath, “And you keep on bleeding, Oh… oh oh.”

As his words disperse into deafening silence on the phone you sit completely statue still. Almost too afraid to move. Petrified to disturb the moment. His songs were like poetry and it nearly brought you to a flood of tears.

“That was… wow…” You release a deep breath out through your nostrils, “You should consider recording an acoustic version, Ed’s, because that was… epic.”

“You think so?” He asks with shock laced in his tone and you swear you can see his brown puppy dog eyes looking right at you. But maybe they were just seared into your memory. He was embedded into your soul.

“One hundred percent.” Your fingers shakily toy with the hem of your cotton sleep shorts, the pads of your finger tips tracings the small pink love hearts that have been sewn into the light fabric and you feel a sudden surge of energy. Excitement. Adrenaline. Happiness.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really are too kind to me.”

Before you can respond Eddie is yawning into the cavity of your ear and you can hear him struggling to keep the expression silent.

“It’s getting late,” Your eyes follow the coiled wire attached to your phone as they search for the clock on your night stand. It now read 1:55am, “I understand if you want to try and hit the hay. Early bird gets the worm, right?”

“We can chat a little longer, if you’d like?” He suggests casually, “I’m usually a night owl anyways, it’s the booze making me a little drowsy but it’s wearing off. Can feel it.”

You bite back a shit-eating smile.

“I’d like that. How about we stay on the line until 2:15am and then we can call it quits?” You come to sit up on your mattress in a cross legged position, your legs comfortably sitting in a basket as you move yourself closer to the phone receiver, “Deal?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Deal.”

The blood orange rays slicing through your bedroom curtains awoke you rudely and you rapidly blink away the sunlight, almost blinded by its intensity. The sound of bird wings flapping into fight filled the eerily quiet atmosphere of your room and a loud groan vibrates from your tired throat as you force yourself up into a stretch with your arms extended above your head.

You were optimistic about the day until you caught a glimpse through the glass and saw the rain dancing devilishly against the concrete. It’s was as though the water mocked you. With every hellish dance it thundered against the ground your feelings for Eddie only grew fonder. It grinned evilly in your face with every feeble attempt you made to forget him. A reminder that no matter what you did, he would always be there. He would always possess your soul. Your efforts would always ultimately fail.

By the time you burst into your morning lecture you are soaked to the bone from head to toe. Your hair sticks in drenched ringlets to your shivering goosebump covered skin and the fabric of your clothes cling for dear life to your limbs. No corner of your body was left unseen. Every curve prominent and protruding.

“You’re late.” Professor Hunter snarls distastefully beneath his breath, his Dublin accent bleeding through as you pass by his large dark oak stained desk to a free seat. He smelt of lingering coffee breath and musk; almost like he had smoked a cigarette moments before entering the room and washed it down with an americano. His black hair was pinstriped with grey, patterned like a skunks tail and his face was covered in messy prickly looking stubble. His blue eyes were heavily lidded as they searched your face in annoyance, longing for a poor excuse for your short coming with his square glasses braced on the bridge of his slender nose.

“I’m only 3 minutes late—“

“Still. You showed up late to my lecture.”

“I’m sorry, I—“ He cuts you off, again.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing your backbone alongside every word you wished to say. As you sunk further into the green plush pillow of the velvet seat beneath you and your clothes slowly dried to be somewhat bearable you felt a heat growing on the back of your head and your mind filled with the inkling that someone was looking at you.

Mustering the strength to look back over your shoulder your breath catches in your throat at the two chestnut eyes that are staring right back at you. Eddie is shameless with his gaze and you fumble beneath it. Your cheeks heat to boiling point and your legs twitch toward the auditorium door; prepared to run, if needed.

Eddie’s lips twitch at the corners and you can tell within that very moment that he is biting back a laugh. It triggers something within you, a spontaneous and contagious response that causes your own shoulders to tremble as you try and contain a chuckle. Normally, you would take a scolding from a lecturer seriously but something about the whole situation humoured you in an abnormal way. You were giggling at something totally mediocre and you blamed Munson.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Your urge to erupt into a fit of laughter like a volcanic explosion subsides and dies quickly as your eyes settle on the male next to you.

Shaggy ringlets fall effortlessly to frame his perfectly blush cheeks and intense blue eyes narrow in on your features, making you retract and become comically still. His eyes were fire in water, filled to the brim with raging anger bubbling below their surface— like a tormented ocean battling against jagged rocks.

Billy Hargrove.

Billy fucking Hargrove had parked his denim clad ass right next to you.

You had heard the things about him. The craze surrounding his reputation. You knew what it was like to have his knuckles fracture your jaw— all because someone had told you about it in explicit detail.

You would never forgive Chrissy for explaining to you in intricate analysis what his dick felt like and what it looked like after their hook up before she sunk her claws into Eddie. She always felt the need to boast about those things to you— to make you feel inferior. And it worked a large majority of the time.

Billy smelt soil-rich with a hint of apple blossom and you found yourself fixated on the dark thickness of his eyebrows. So sharp and clean, like a knife, “Fine, don’t tell me.” He rolls his eyes at you and begins to tap the end of his pencil against the arm of his chair, “Better hope you weren’t laughing at me, though, sweetie.”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at you. I would never— why would I?” You wheeze nervously, your arms crossed over your chest as your finger nails dig into the plush flesh of your bicep.

Billy shrugs his massive meaty shoulders, his crystal like hues focusing on the hints of rain that still lingered in your hair and on your clothes, “You must be freezing, sat there in damp clothes. You want this? I’m not gonna wear it.” You stare doe eyed at the denim jacket he holds clutched tightly in his grasp, his fist outstretched toward you.

You eye him cautiously for a moment, waiting to see if he will withdraw his offer and laugh in your face but he doesn’t. In fact, he smiles at you and now you are left to question every piece of information you thought you knew about Billy.

Shakily, your own fingers wrap around the rough fabric as you take the jacket from him. A burgundy settles on your cheeks and you whisper a meek, “Thank you.” Which Billy only nods in response at.

You know it was just an innocent gesture and that there is no way Billy Hargrove would be remotely interested in you like that but still you couldn’t stop the ridiculous dark colour from painting your cheeks maroon as you slid your arms through the sleeves of his coat. A hushed sigh of relief washes over your body as warmth envelops you kindly.

And as Eddie watched from a few rows behind you, like a stranger looking through someone’s window. He knew. In that very moment, Eddie knew. Every whisper that his heart made that he quickly shut down because he was afraid and foolish. Every beaming smile that nearly split his face in half the moment he saw you from across the room. His sweaty palms and his over protective nature around you. It all finally made sense. Puzzle pieces clicking together effortlessly, almost mocking him with their clarity. He had overlooked them for so long. These signs that all pointed in the same direction; to you.

It angered him. His stupidity, immaturity and ignorance raged him in a way he had never felt before. His fury came like an impossible build up of steam which burnt his insides on its way out. And he deserved it. Every scolding piece of black tar that stuck itself to his flesh.

Anger, sadness, pain— so intertwined that perhaps their names ought to be tweaked to reflect the origins of those emotions. To show their raw authenticity and truth.

Eddie had lied to himself. He had led himself a stray. He had pulled the wool over his own two eyes and completely missed the angel that had been in front of him this entire time. Even when he was in a relationship with Chrissy, he felt that something had shifted that day at the movie theatre. Something unchangeable and unshakeable. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

This was the epiphany. His world stood still and everyone else seemed to fade from his vision into total nothingness as he admired you from afar.

But was he too late to tell you? Did you still feel anything for him? Because from where he was standing, it seemed as if you were ready to move on to someone new. Someone better than he is.

The saddest part was that he just wanted to see you happy. To see you smiling genuinely. For your eyes to light up and scrunch at the corners. For you to be as loved as much as you love others. As much as you loved him.

He had to tell you. Even if it would break his heart to hear you say that you didn’t want him anymore. Even if it felt like he was on the brink of death, walking barefoot along the sharp blade of a lengthy sword. He would bleed for you. He would paint himself scarlet in exchange for your love.

Thunder clapped the sky and lightning lit the murky clouds momentarily with lavender purple as it zapped through the air. Water was still pelting heavily onto the concrete and you dreaded the idea of having to walk 20 minutes to get back home. Classes had flown by and now you were waiting by the large glass exit, staring aimlessly out at how ferocious Mother Nature could truly be. That’s when a shadowy reflection appeared next to you.

“In need of a chariot ride, M’ lady?” As you turn to look over your shoulder you are met with Eddie’s signature Cheshire Cat smile and your heart does leaps and bounds in your chest, “This time around I am totally 100% sober, so the journey should be a pleasant one. No one’s lives are at risk...” Your mind flicks back to the night of his gig and how uncontrollable your powerful feelings multiplied for him. You were reminded of the sour fact that Eddie would never feel this way about you— he wouldn’t feel as tortured as you did with his close proximity. It was agony. Having him so close and yet so far. Your fingertips just out of reach.

Eddie was gazing at you like you were miles away but in reality you're only a few feet in front of him. His stare is hard, intense, but also melting and blank. As if he were on another planet and you somehow were the one who transported him there.

“I would really appreciate that, Ed’s. But only if you’re sure? My house is pretty out of the way…” You were currently living at home with your parents but you had been searching online for apartments closer to the campus grounds, considering you’ll be attending classes for the next three years of your life. Some of which looked as though they were pulled from your wildest dreams. Warm and whimsical. You just had to save up enough for the deposit and luckily you had started work at a close by diner as a waitress. The hourly rate was shitty but the tips were great; especially from the regulars who liked you.

“I would never leave you to walk home in that storm, love. Besides, it’s been a few days since I’ve seen you so I thought we can hang out for a little bit,” You watch as Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, “I’ll let you pick the music?”

An offer he knew that you couldn’t refuse.

“Even Kate Bush?” You always had a cassette tape of hers in your backpack with your walk-man.

A dramatic pause embraces Eddie.

“Yes. Even Kate Bush.” He offers you a tight lipped smile.

And just like that, you were sold.

It was a torrential race to get to the car without getting totally soaked but once you were both inside you burst into a fit of giggles, laboured breaths filling the small space as you watched the water stream down the front windscreen endlessly, “Wow, it really is chucking it down!” You try to smooth out your rain streaked hair and you tuck it behind your ears, shivering at the mere sight of the trees swaying back and forth with the strong wind. The sound of Eddie clipping in his seat belt draws your attention over to him and you ultimately find yourself unable to look anywhere else. You were a crow to Eddie’s shimmer. A moth to his flame. You were a girl who was freezing a moment ago and now it’s as if sunshine has met your skin and you no longer felt a thing.

“Remember your seatbelt.” Boldly, Eddie decides to reach over your frame and click you securely into the plush passenger seat, his fingers running under the belt across your lap as he pulled the strap tightly over your body. Corseting your into place. His touch lingers near you for a moment and you could have sworn you saw Eddie’s eyes flash with something foreign. Something distant and hidden. But whatever it was, he kept it tucked away.

He killed it.

“Are you warm enough? I can crank this bad boy up a notch if you want.” He plays with the AC thermostat, the tip of his tongue darted out to rest on his bottom lip in total concentration as warm air eventually starts blasting toward you and instantly your tense muscles relax.

“That’s lovely, thank you.” It was already beginning to get dark outside and there was something oddly comforting about listening to the rain pour down onto the metal roof of Eddie’s van as you both sat in total silence with one another. In the low light, just basking in the peace of one another’s presence, “I could stay like this forever.” Your thumbs fumble with each other.

“Yeah,” Your eyes meet his, “Me too, sweetheart.” It was strange to think that one singular persons existence could bring you so much fulfilment and happiness. As you looked at Eddie now, your soul smiled along side your mouth. Everything leading up to this simple moment felt right. Prophesied. Etched into ancient stone. Your love for Eddie would die with you. And even from the grave, you would push up roses that would bloom to spell his name.

“Eddie…” You had been here before. Confessing. Pleading. Rationalising. Chasing. You were sure he would listen this time— you were almost certain that he would actually talk to you about your feelings for him. Maybe his opinions of you had changed. Maybe… maybe he felt the same way.

“Yeah?” Masterfully, Eddie hid the hopeful jitter in his voice. And unfortunately, it was just enough for you to back step fully and keep your thoughts to yourself

“You… you remember where I live, right? I can totally give you directions if not. No biggie.” The three words you longed to say burrowed themselves back down into your chest, your heart spluttering and coughing as they forced their way back inside; where they’d remain for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s chest also tightened with disappointment and devastation. But he had faith, and he knew that the right moment would come. Even if he had to initiate it.

“Of course I do— sort of… maybe? Okay, you may need to direct me a tiny bit.” His index finger and thumb pinch together momentarily to signify the minuscule amount of direction he may need from you and you smile knowingly at him. Content.

“Shall we see to it?” You gesture toward the road.

“We shall.” Eddie grins cockily as he shifts his rust bucket into gear and speeds off into the road, chuckling at the quick intake of breath he hears come from you as you gasp at a nearby car beeping at Eddie’s abrupt merge into traffic, “Relax, I’m a great driver. Promise. I could do this with my eyes closed—“

“Don’t you dare!” You squeal and Eddie’s nose crinkles as he laughs full heartedly beside you.

“Sweetheart, relax!! I would never endanger you like that…” He winks slyly at you and you shake your head with the hugest smile adoring your face. Adrenaline floods your veins from your near panic attack moments ago and you run your fingertips through your damp and tangled hair; slightly stressed.

That’s when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the winged side mirror and your heart plummets quickly to the pit of your stomach. Your mascara had streaked down your face and your hair was a bird nest upon your head from the wind and rain. Your clothes looked tattered and ruined and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sorted yourself out sooner. Eddie was right next to you and you looked like a hot bag of dogshit.

“You could’ve told me I had mascara under my eyes,” You try to joke it off with a feeble laugh, wiping your fingers furiously across the delicate skin of your under eyes in an attempt to make yourself look half presentable but you knew that this wasn’t an easy fix, “God, I look a mess.” You gnaw on your bottom lip to contain your sudden urge to cry.

“What? No you don’t, not at all!” Eddie’s thick eyebrows knit together on his forehead, “I thought that was the look you were going for, honest! You were rocking it!” Eddie’s attempt to lighten the mood fails and a newfound panic washes over him, “You are beautiful all the same, hon. Cross my heart.” Eddie’s ears are met with a ringing silence as your eyes fixate on the road ahead and he swears in that moment he can hear your heart shatter.

You recognised the street and you knew that your house was now close by. Just a little further. Any minute now you would be able to feel despair openly and free of judgement; all you had to do was make it home and get far away from the curly haired man next to you.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice is so soft, like silk being brushed across your skin as he pulls the van into your driveway. It makes you want to vomit.

“I’ll catch you later, Ed’s.” Your words shake as they leave your throat and you dive from the passenger seat at an alarming speed but Eddie is just as quick to follow after you. Hot on your heels with his engine left grumbling in the distance behind him.

“Wait— please stop!” His ringed fingers hook hastily and strongly around your wrist, stilling your movements as he whips you around to meet his towering frame.

You jerk your arm away from his grasp gently but he remains planted, “Please let me go inside, Eddie,” Your tears mix with the tears falling from the clouds above you and Eddie swallows thickly, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could but his raging heart and the frog in his throat was heavily preventing that, “Please—“

“You need to hear this.” Your dripping lips part in total awe as you watch Eddie become restless in front of you— his inner turmoil mirroring the storm beating down onto the pair of you, “I… fuck.. I..” He grapples with himself and you watch him search frantically for the right words. Eddie wanted this to be perfect. But that’s the thing— he wasn’t perfect. And he would never be perfect.

“Fuck it. Fuck it!!” His inky eyes ignite and suddenly he is so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, “I’m in love with you. I’m so desperately in love with you.”

“There is no perfect lover. We are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all of your heart creates perfect love. I will never look further than you. If my heart is a flower waiting to bloom, your love is the only breath of sunshine it needs.” Both of your hands end up rested in Eddie’s palms as his thumbs stroke over each of your knuckles, “I have been foolish. Completely moronic— because I hadn’t noticed this before. I hadn’t acknowledged my own feelings for you. And you don’t have to say anything… but you should know, love.”

You have gone into complete shock. Your limbs feel as though they are weighed down by chunky chains and your throat doesn’t allow you to speak. But your eyes… your eyes are blown to the size of teacup saucers. Gaping open wide.

“I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name! I love you… I’ve loved you for a long time, I think, and I understand if you no longer feel the same about me. I have left you waiting— I have starved you of love and I only wish you happiness. I want you to be so fucking happy, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. And now you are floating above your body like a ghost trapped between heaven and earth.

“Are… are you sure?” You’re crying now and your vision blurs with the salty water. Your mascara stings your eyes and you have to battle the urge to collapse to your knees in front of him. This is all you have ever wanted for the longest time. You have counted down the milliseconds leading up to this. And now it’s here… and you don’t know if Eddie is being sincere or not.

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!" Eddie let’s go of your hands and you feel like your only form of support has left you defenceless. His heavy black leather boots slap against the concrete as he paces in front of you, “‘Am I sure?’ Of course I am! Of course I’m sure, sweetheart. I am drawn to you in a way that can only be described as witch craft. I am under a spell that I never want to awake from. You are the only person I ever want to talk to— the only person I want to be around. You are all that matters to me. I want to know what you do in the mornings and what perfume you like to wear. I ache to know your every thought and what makes you laugh— and what makes you cry.” Eddie is breathless as his body swoops back toward yours and his palms find your face as he cups your cheeks steadily, his eyes dart all over your face, trying to figure out which part of you he want to set his eyes on the most but it's impossible.

“My heart belongs to you. It always has; I was just too blind to see it. And if you never want to see me again I will respect that. But you had to know.” Eddie breaks down into a sob, the thought alone of losing you causes his heart to crumble into dust inside of his chest, “You had to know that I love you.”

Both of your eyelids fall closed and Eddie rests his soaked forehead against yours. His breathing is erratic and your fingertips cling to the denim his overcoat. Grasping on for dear life, “I love you, Eddie. Oh Eddie, My Eddie— you have no idea how long I have prayed for this moment. To hear those words. Those three fucking words.” You let out a noise that can only be described as half a cry and half a laugh and Eddie joins you, “I love you more than words can explain.”

Eddie recoils his face away from yours and for a moment you are frightened as you watch his expression harden into something more serious, “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

And as the words emit past his lips, your worry dissolves into total ecstasy.

“Please— kiss me and never stop.”

You had never imagined this is how your first kiss with Eddie would play out. In your drive way and in the pouring rain. It was beyond perfect. Something that you could watch on a movie screen. The old romance you loved to read about—but this time, it was yours.

Yours and Eddie’s.

You never wanted this fever dream to end; and thankfully, it never had to.

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #beauty is a beast that roars #down on all fours #demanding more #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #chapter talks #chaptersleftunwritten

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pookalicious-hq · 2 months ago

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blue velvet... jinx x reader

| 0.1. wrecking ball | next | masterlist

synopsis: two girls trapped within a world full of hate would do anything for eachother. too bad they're both crazy. tags/tws: mentions of mental health illnesses, mention of suicide, blood and gore, mc has split personalities word count: 1.7k

To the people of Piltover, you were a storm devil, a dark figure wielding unnatural power and chaos. In Zaun, though, they sang a different tune. There, you were their angel of death, a symbol of protection—or a promise of impending ruin. Your name meant salvation to some, doom to others. And depending on who you asked, it marked either a savior or a death sentence.

The billowing smog swirled around you, outlining your feathered wings like a ghostly shadow against the vibrant glow of Zaun’s undercity. This was no gentle welcome—the air was thick, saturated with oil, smoke, and the sharp bite of chemicals that burned your nostrils. It clung to your skin, coating everything in a fine, greasy layer. Eyes were on you already, peering from fractured pipes and shadowed alleyways, watching your every move.

The streets stretched before you, cracked cobblestones that seemed to pulse with a life both unsettling and invigorating. It felt as if the city itself was breathing—exhaling dust, shimmer, and a constant undercurrent of danger. Each step you took sent faint crackles of electricity tingling across your fingertips, the remnants of tonight’s mission still simmering through your veins.

Your wings, usually sharp and sure, were now folded tightly against your back, their feathers singed and dulled from the exertion. As you passed, people cast wary glances your way—some with awe, others with suspicion. Silco’s orders lingered in your mind like a bitter taste, a reminder of the duty that had brought you here.

You took a steadying breath, feeling the sharp current of electricity crackling through your body. Each pulse felt like an unbearable mixture of pain and power, the dark remnants of Silco’s relentless trials etched into your bones. Even now, the energy surged restlessly beneath your skin, reminding you of everything you’d endured to become his weapon.

You clenched your fists, grounding yourself against the power that begged to be released. This wasn’t the time to draw attention, though every instinct inside you screamed to let the storm loose. For now, restraint was your duty, and unruliness would be your downfall.

The smog of Zaun barely settled in your lungs when a sudden pop split the air, followed by a burst of glitter that exploded in front of you. It coated your face, your wings, and the grime-caked cobblestones beneath your feet. The sparkling mist shimmered mockingly under the dim neon lights of the undercity.

You froze, coughing as the glitter bomb went off, its sharp, chemical taste lingering in the back of your throat. You flapped your wings to dispel the cloud, the gritty particles sticking to your feathers. “Holy shit—”

“Birdie!” Jinx’s gleeful voice rang out, her silhouette dropping down from a pipe above. A wide, mischievous grin stretched across her face, pink smoke trailing from her latest concoction, the scent of sulfur heavy in the air behind her. “Gotcha good, huh? You were so focused on being grumpy, didn’t even see me coming.”

Your heart was still racing, the burst of noise and color stirring every survival instinct within you. A spark of electricity jumped from your fingertips, lashing out reflexively. It wasn’t deliberate, just the aftershock of the moment. The faint crackle of power hit Jinx square in the shoulder, and she yelped, staggering back, though the sound quickly dissolved into giggles.

“Woah!” she gasped, blinking in surprise, then patting the singed edge of her sleeve. The gleam in her eyes sharpened, her smirk widening. “Do that again!”

“What?” you sputtered, still coughing out glitter, the sharp metallic taste lingering on your tongue. “No, I’m not—Jay! Are you insane?”

She tilted her head, her grin crooked and knowing, the flickering neon lights casting shadows on her face. “You know, people say that a lot about us,” she teased, her voice light but laced with something sharper beneath it. A shared understanding hummed in the air, like the crackling static that clung to your skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh—a dry, unsteady sound, still choked with the taste of glitter and the pulse of raw power in your veins. She mirrored you, that familiar, wild energy swirling between the two of you, filling the space with a chaotic kind of warmth.

Her fingers reached out, brushing through the faint static still buzzing in the air around you. The tingling sensation ran along your nerves, a constant reminder of the force contained within you.

“C’mon,” she pressed, her voice low and coaxing, the coolness of the alley around you suddenly feeling a little too close. “Just a little zap? You know it’s cool.”

You shot her an exasperated look, swiping at the glitter stuck to your cheeks, the gritty particles scraping against your skin. With a resigned sigh, you muttered, “Absolutely not. And stop throwing glitter bombs at me—it’s stuck everywhere now.” The metallic scent still clung to the air, mixing with the heavy smog that seemed to saturate every corner of the undercity.

“Everywhere?” she echoed, a mischievous smirk pulling at her lips, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark. The playful challenge in her voice was undeniable, but you knew it was just another one of her stupid jokes. You stared back at her, unimpressed, brushing your hands against your jacket as though to rid yourself of the last traces of glitter.

She crossed her arms, tapping a foot against the cracked pavement, the rhythmic tapping contrasting sharply with her casual tone. “Whatever. Glitter’s classy. You look like... like a hot and deadly, sparkly peacock.” The words danced in the air, teasing the edges of your irritation but lightening the mood just enough to keep it from escalating.

You shot her a glare. “Shut up, if anyone’s a peacock, it’s you.”

Jinx just laughed, skipping up beside you as you resumed walking. Her pace slowed when she saw where you were heading—back to Silco’s headquarters.

Her usual chatter quieted, and her grin faltered for just a moment before she slapped it back on. “So... uh, you sure we gotta go back right now? I mean, we could hang somewhere, grab a drink, blow something up—”

The slight tremor in her voice gave her away, betraying the calm she was trying to maintain. You paused mid-step, the gritty pavement shifting under your boots as you glanced down at her. “Jinx.”

“What?” she snapped, too quickly, her voice tight, like she was trying to cover something up. “I didn’t say anything. Why are your eyes all scrunched up? That’s gonna give you wrinkles, y’know?”

You frowned, sensing the lie beneath her deflection. The faint bruise near her temple caught the low, flickering light, deep purple against her pale skin, and it twisted something inside you. The way she scratched at her wrist, tugging her sleeve down almost defensively, made your stomach churn.

Without another word, you crouched, bending slightly to open your arms. You felt the faint crackle of static tingling along your skin as your wings shifted behind you. “Come here.”

Her brows furrowed, confused, but the hesitation in her eyes said everything. “What are you—”

“Jay,” you said again, softer this time, the tenderness in your voice breaking through the exhaustion you carried. “Come on.”

It took a moment, but the stubbornness faded, and she stepped into your embrace. The warmth of her body against yours made the cold grip of the city seem distant. Her head dropped against your shoulder, and though she didn’t cry—Jinx rarely did without the comfort of four walls surrounding her—you could feel her body relax, tension leaking away in small, silent waves.

The silence settled between you, the low hum of Zaun’s distant noise—smoke-streaked lights, the hum of machinery—filling the quiet. You didn’t need to say anything more. She had already said it all with her quiet surrender.

“Hold on,” you whispered, and your wings unfolded behind you, the air rushing against your skin as you stretched them wide.

“What are you—holy shit!” she yelped, her fingers gripping your jacket as you lifted off the ground. The sudden rush of wind swirled around you, the city stretching beneath you like a vast, dark labyrinth of neon lights and smoke. You could feel the electricity crackling at the tips of your wings, the air charged with your unstable power as you shot upward.

Jinx clung to you instinctively, her bravado fading away with the city’s dizzying height. Her breath was warm against your neck, rapid and sharp, as the familiar streets blurred beneath you. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if willing the world to slow down.

You didn’t go far, just high enough to leave the alleys behind, heading for a quieter rooftop on the outskirts. The cool air hit you once you landed, the scent of rust from the old water tank mingling with the smoky haze that clung to everything. The roof was sparse—just an old, rusted water tank and a few scattered crates—but it was quiet. Safe.

You set her down carefully, your wings folding back behind you with a soft flutter. The ground beneath your feet was solid, a welcome contrast to the dizzying heights you’d just left behind.

Jinx stared out across the city, her eyes narrowed in that sharp, calculating way she often had, but there was something different in her gaze now—a vulnerability, quiet but clear. Something unspoken hung between you, but for once, you didn’t need to voice it. You both knew the weight of the world you carried, even if you didn’t always acknowledge it.

The night stretched out before you, dark and endless, as you stood together—two figures on the edge of Zaun, floating in the same currents, bound by something far deeper than the chaos of the world.

a/n: so this is the start of my jinx x reader series!! i hope you like it, we're starting at around 17 years old for both jinx and mc,,, then after w few chaps we're gonna go into season 1 arc and eventually season 2. mwahhh

taglist: @stupendousbananasharkcop

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist loves <3

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #powder arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #jinx arcane

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thenotsofantasticlifestory · 6 months ago

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GN! Reader x Law

Law gets wasted and he's an affectionate mess

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was rare indeed, to see Law truly let loose.

Maybe it was the recent victory over Kaido that he’d been stressing for God knows how long, or maybe it was just the general good atmosphere of all their crews around them drinking happily and socializing that made him loosen up. Regardless, you were surprised for when the first time, Law was very drunk.

You had had a few drinks but were still clear headed enough, laying your head on Law’s shoulder as the others rejoiced around you. Law immediately grasped your hand under the table, fingers eagerly rubbing against yours and you were surprised at his openness. Law was usually very conservative about his affection, worrying about whether anyone saw, especially his own crew. In the rare instances they did witness a soft moment, Law had the habit of pulling his hat low over his red face and storming off before they could say anything. You couldn’t lie though, seeing Law a little more open and daring sent a warmth through you.

He rested his head atop yours on his shoulder, cuddling in close and you were aware of the catcalls that followed the action. You didn’t care, you were too lost feeling his strong body against you. It felt like it had been far too long since you two were able to cuddle and touch like this.

Penguin shouted forth, “Give them a kiss!”

And soon other members of the crew had joined the chant, and you felt your face heat up. You two were always conservative in front of others, but to your shock, Law grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a smashing of lips together, but it was enough to make your face light up. You could hear the cheers in the background as you pulled back, a hand to your mouth as Law stared back at you with heavy lidded eyes.

He tried to press into your face again but your own awareness of the crew around you made you embarrassed and you quickly redirected him to rest against the crook of your neck. The others couldn’t see now but you were aware of the hot open-mouthed kisses and laving of tongue that Law was pressing against the skin of your neck and you put a hand to the back of his head to block any curious onlookers as your tried, unsuccessfully, to discreetly pry him off. His hands groped at your sides as his face pulled back to stare heavily at you.

“Let’s say we take this somewhere more private?” he purred against you. You were about to stand when Law pulled his hand up in a familiar gesture and blue light circled the room.

“Shambles”

You braced yourself, expecting to find yourself now in the captain’s quarters but when you opened your eyes nothing had changed, you were both still sitting amongst the party.

“Fuck!”

You saw Shachi sputtering with beer dripping down his naked head, apparently Law had switched his hat with someone’s drink.

The captain narrowed his eyes in focus, now realizing what he’d done, “Wait shit let me try that again.”

Another flash of blue and this time Bepo ended up on the table where a bowl of chips had previously been. His flailing had sent several glasses and food spilling across the table as the others voiced their displeasure at the poor bear.

“I’m sorry!” he managed to get himself back on the floor with the others, Ikkaku slapping his back and laughing.

Law stared at his hand now, as though looking at a faulty gadget, and readied his fingers again before you clapped your hands over his own to stop him from causing any more chaos.

“How about we just sit here okay baby?”

The pet name seemed to work as he dissolved into a silly smile, and you bit back a laugh at how adorable he looked. His face fell forward and planted against you in another messy smash of lips.

“Mmkay,” you could feel him mumble against your mouth. You pulled his head back, keeping it cradled in your hands, looking around to see if anyone had seen the second kiss, but most were still ribbing Bepo good naturedly for nearly breaking the table supplying him with beer all the while. You settled back in your seat, raising the drink to your lips and felt Law drop his head onto your shoulder. Giving his scalp an affectionate rub, you drank and talked with the others, regaling them with details of your fights as they supplied their own stories in return. All the while Law kept his head silently planted against you, and you could feel his eyes boring into you the entire time. Penguin finally snickered and nudged Shachi in the ribs.

“Look at captain.”

The two dissolved into giggles seeing Law staring puppy eyed up into your eyes, a hopeless grin on his face. You finally met his gaze and couldn’t suppress the smile that crawled up your lips.

“Law you’re staring at me.”

He hummed in response, nuzzling his cheek against you, eyes never leaving you, “You’re so pretty you know that?” he slurred.

His fingers came up to trace along your features, fumbling a bit at first before resting on your cheek, “Such perfect anatomical structure…”

You could hear Penguin and Shachi practically choke with laughter.

“Thank you…?” You couldn’t help smiling at the silliness of your boyfriend.

Law hummed, he lifted his head and took your face between his hands, gently squishing your cheeks, “How did I get such a beautiful partner?”

Penguin and Shachi were now in full throes of laughter. Your eyes shot from them back to Law, with a silly grin plastered on his face. Your hands clasped his gently to remove them from your cheeks, fighting the blush that was spreading across your face.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” you murmured.

Law held your gaze, eyes boring deep into yours until suddenly his head fell forward, planting right into your chest, hands wrapped around you tightly. It only took seconds until you heard soft snores coming from him.

You sighed, “Okay, I think it’s time for bed.”

Catcalls followed the comment as you slowly helped Law to his feet, his body leaning heavily against you all the while. Once you got him upright, his face dug into the crook of your neck, nuzzling the skin as his hands played across your waist. More catcalls followed at the captain’s actions and you felt yourself flush. You quickly got his arm around your shoulder, letting him lean against you as you walked him back to his private quarters. After nearly stumbling through the hallway you managed to get inside the room with Law in one piece. You let go of his body, left him standing for a moment as you started pulling back the sheets and covers of the bed.

“Okay Law, come here,” you slapped the mattress.

Law apparently took this to mean something else entirely, his eyes darkening with a sly smile across his face as he staggered forward. He nearly tripped over himself but you caught him in your arms as he straightened out.

“You come here,” he growled in what he must have thought was a seductive tone closing the distance between you. His hands explored up and down your sides as his lips met yours once more, pressing firmly. Law was leaning with most of his weight against you and you quickly maneuvered the two of you toward the bed, thumping onto the mattress with an audible creak. Law quickly crawled up into your lap, hands planting on either side of your head as he reconnected lips, tongue quickly working its way into your mouth. You were wide eyed for a moment, but fell easily into the kiss, sloppy as it was, your own hands trailing up and down his back.

Breaking from the kiss, Law’s flushed face practically rubbing against your own he murmured in a slur, “God you don’t even know how sexy you are…” His face dug into the crook of your neck, placing wet suckling kisses against your skin, “I just think about you all the time…”

You smiled, guiding Laws head back up to face you, a wonderfully content smile on his face as you placed a peck against his lips.

“You’re awfully affectionate when you’re drunk.”

His sappy grin widened, “I can’t help myself around you.”

Suddenly Law flopped onto the bed, turning to rest on his back as he reached his arms out for you to join. You sighed, pulling off your shoes and Law’s own before nestling against him. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face against your hair as you settled together with a contented sigh.

“You know you’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” you teased, and at the silence that followed you asked, “Law?”

You raised her head only to see him already snoring away and chuckled. Resting your head back against his slowly rising chest you closed your eyes to sleep.

“Sweet dreams Law.”

#mywriting #trafalgar law #op #one piece #penguin #heart pirates #shachi #ikkaku #bepo #fanfiction #law x reader #gn!reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader

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simplyraeblue · 4 months ago

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first times (shoto todoroki x reader)

ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP femreader x virginshoto you've had a crush on your friend shoto for a long time, and unbeknownst to you he's been crushing as well. not only that, he wants you to be his first time; for everything WARNINGS: swearing, smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (m receiving) •◡ ◠ word count: 3,380 A/N: this will be a 3-4 part story, with each chapter building up in smut levels

part one | part two | part three |

part four | part five

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

as the night wound down and the loud laughter and clamor of dares faded into memory, the mess left by the boys was evident throughout your apartment. empty cups, discarded snack wrappers, and other remnants of the evening’s chaos littered the living room. one by one, your friends trickled out, their departure marked by sloppy goodbyes and promises to clean up later.

Shoto was the last to leave, but instead of heading home, he stayed behind to help you tidy up. the two of you worked in comfortable silence, picking up the trash and putting things back in their places.

as you were clearing the last of the cups that Kirishima and Kaminari had strewn across the coffee table, Shoto's voice broke the silence. “we didn’t finish our seven minutes,” he said suddenly, causing you to pause and turn to him.

you gave a small, tired laugh. “technically, we did. we went well over the seven minutes, in fact.” you resumed picking up the cups. silently grateful that Bakugo had been persuaded to drive Kirishima and Kaminari home.

Shoto, now standing next to you with a thoughtful expression, asked, “truth or dare?”

you put down the trash bag you were holding and placed your hands on your hips. “truth.”

“did you enjoy our kiss?” Shoto’s eyes were earnest as he awaited your response.

“yes,” you replied, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” Shoto said.

“did you enjoy our kiss, Shoto?” you asked, returning his earnest gaze.

“yes,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” you said again.

Shoto almost pouted. “no, pick dare. i have something in mind already, and you picking truth won’t work.”

you chuckled at his display of frustration. “alright, fine. i’ll switch to dare.”

“i dare you to let me kiss you again,” Shoto said, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. the weight that had settled on his chest since earlier in your room seemed to lift with his confession. throughout the evening, as he chose dare each time on the off chance he could kiss you again, he had participated in various childish dares with this one goal in mind.

Shoto didn’t give you a chance to respond; instead, he gently cupped your face in his hands and pulled you closer. the sudden proximity made your breath catch in your throat, and your heart raced with a thrilling mix of anticipation and nervousness. as Shoto leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and longing that made you wish you could dissolve into his embrace.

with a growing sense of confidence, Shoto guided you backward towards the couch, his lips never leaving yours. he maneuvered you both down onto the cushions, the kiss deepening as he settled beside you. this was a moment he had yearned for over a year, each time you worked together as pro heroes, his feelings only intensifying. he was determined to savor every second of this long-awaited connection.

for you, the kiss felt like a puzzle finally coming together. it encapsulated everything you had felt from the moment you first recognized your crush on him, to the countless times you had called Mina, gushing about his small gestures and acts of kindness. now, it had culminated in this perfect, intimate kiss.

the kiss was tender and gentle, embodying everything you had hoped for. Shoto’s touch was delicate, as if he were handling something incredibly precious. his lips moved against yours with a natural grace, fitting together like they were made specifically for this moment.

after a few blissful seconds, Shoto pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. you slowly opened your eyes to meet his gaze, and he could feel his heart swelling with affection. the warmth in your eyes told him that you saw him as more than just a hero, more than just Endeavor’s son.

“so,” Shoto said, his voice soft but filled with curiosity, “when you talked about the bases earlier, you left one out.”

you felt a deep blush spread across your cheeks as you realized what he was hinting at. “home base, right?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “i left it out because it’s... a significant step. it means going all the way with someone.”

“making love,” Shoto said, his tone thoughtful.

“yes, making love,” you confirmed, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. the way he spoke the words made the whole concept feel even more profound and intimate. it wasn’t fucking, or having sex, it was making love in his eyes.

“how would that go?” Shoto asked, his question causing a warm flush to spread across your body. the thought of the next step made your heart race.

“well,” you began, your voice wavering slightly as you fidgeted with your hands in your lap, “it would start with what we’re doing now, this closeness and intimacy. then, it would naturally progress to... more intimate things, like touching each other in more private places.”

Shoto’s eyes darkened with an intense, sincere gaze as he said, “i would like to touch you elsewhere.” the boldness of his statement made your heart leap into your throat. did he fully understand the implications of what he was suggesting?

“we can take things slowly, if that’s what you really want,” you offered, trying to steady your voice and manage your racing thoughts.

“i’ve received plenty of advice from the guys,” Shoto said, his tone tinged with uncertainty.

you chuckled softly, shaking your head at the absurdity of it. “okay, maybe don’t take all the advice those guys give you too seriously. they can be a bit... over the top.”

Shoto’s earnest expression did not waver. “are you being serious about this?” you asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.

he nodded; his gaze unwavering as he looked at you with deep sincerity. you couldn’t help but smile softly at him. “and you... want your first time, for everything, to be with me? not someone else you might consider more special?”

“no one is more special to me than you,” Shoto replied earnestly, his heart pounding in his chest. he had discussed all the right questions with Midoriya, seeking advice on how to recognize true feelings and when the time was right. once he had his answers, he knew deep down that there was no one else he wanted to share these moments with. for him, you were everything.

you drew in a deep breath, your cheeks flushed with the weight of his confession, the seriousness of the moment settling over you. "come with me," you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions. gently, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. with a purposeful but tender grip, you guided him away from the couch and towards the bedroom.

once inside, you led him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he complied, his expression attentive and earnest. you took a moment to gather your thoughts, then spoke, your voice firm but reassuring. "i want to set some ground rules before we go any further. i’m going to ask for your consent before i do anything, and i’ll make sure to tell you exactly what i plan to do. if at any point something makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to let me know immediately. and if you ever want to stop, we stop, no questions asked."

Shoto nodded, his gaze meeting yours with a look of understanding. "that all sounds fair," he said, his tone serious but calm. "where do we begin?"

you sat down beside him on the bed, your hands instinctively resting over your chest as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. the excitement was almost palpable, making it hard to focus. "kiss me," you said softly, your eyes locked onto his. "right now, just do what feels right for you."

to your surprise, Shoto’s lips crashed into yours much more forcefully than last time, like he was needier. and he was; if the dare hadn’t been erupted earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to slow himself down. he was touch-starved, a man hungry for more, and he wanted you.

as he deepened the kiss, you heard the soft moan he let loose, sending heat washing through your body. with his lips parted, you took the chance to gently caress the roof of his mouth with your tongue. he practically melted at the action, leaning further into you.

you continuously had to remind yourself that this was Shoto, someone who deserved tenderness and love, not just a way to get yourself off. but the way his hands were now gripping your waist and sending hot and cold sensations through your skin… it was driving you wild.

for a moment, you pulled away, seeing his eyes still closed with his brows furrowed. “for someone who hasn’t done this often, you are very good at making out, Sho.” you tell him while trying to catch your breath.

“what’s next?” he asked.

your eyebrows raised in amusement. “what’s the rush?”

“i’ve been imagining this for a long time, y/n.” when Shoto’s eyes connected with yours, you saw that his pupils were blown out, filled with a deeper desire than you could’ve imagined inside of him.

while Shoto didn’t show any nervousness, you felt it growing more and more. you usually weren’t one to be shy, but right now everything felt different.

“if you want to, we can touch each other while we kiss.” you tell him. “anywhere.”

Shoto placed his hands further up your torso, looking at you for permission before you nodded. he leaned in to meet your lips again, feeling adrenaline rush through him. the feeling he got from kissing you was enough to drive him insane, an emotion he had never felt before beginning to build.

your hands drifted from his neck to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. as you allowed your hands to lazily travel further down, his traveled further up, settling on your ribs and just below your breasts. when his thumb traced the line of your bra, you embarrassingly let out a moan, but to Shoto, it sounded like music to his ears. he took the chance to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter you and caress yours.

“Sho.” you murmured, breaking away for a moment to catch your breath.

“tell me what to do.” his voice came out hoarse and low, and his eyes pierced yours with a fierce determination.

“you’re making it really hard for me to take this slow for you.” you laughed nervously, your body trembling under his gaze.

“then don’t take it slow.”

you blinked a few times, trying to register his words, hoping to kickstart your brain into high gear to figure out what to do. “Sho...” you breathed lowly.

“i trust you.” Shoto interrupted, placing his hand over the one you had on his chest. “take the lead. please.”

with his plead, the fire within you burned hotter than ever, and you quickly moved to straddle him on the bed as your lips connected with his once more. this time, he kissed you back feverously, like he felt the same hunger you did.

“are you sure?” you asked, wanting to double check... maybe even triple check... that he wanted to do this. he nodded into your shoulder, a muffled mph coming from his mouth.

the time passed by quickly, and the kiss grew until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted to show him what it felt like to feel pleasure, even downright damn euphoria. selfishly, you wanted to feel it too. you moved from his lips before starting to litter kisses along his jaw and down his neck, working your way down as your hands fidgeted with the bottom of his t-shirt. when he sensed what you were trying to do, he quickly pulled his shirt over his head, almost making you gasp at the sight.

his body could’ve been the work of a god.

before you let yourself get flustered, you continued to pepper kisses in a trail from his neck, down his torso. with each kiss, you could hear his breath stuttering. “tell me something, Sho.” you whispered against his skin. “have you ever... touched yourself?”

you looked up to find Shoto’s face turned pink, but he nodded in answer.

“y-yes.” he stammered out. Shoto didn’t want to admit to you that he’d never done such a thing until he’d met you, until he’d realized what his feelings meant. he felt dirty thinking about those nights, when you’d visit him in a dream, and he’d wake up to a feeling in his stomach and an erection he needed to solve.

“good boy.” you smirked up at him, and he could’ve imploded just from the look. he could only watch with anticipation as you worked to remove his belt, then undo the clasp on his pants. “i’m going to touch you here, like you’ve done yourself. is that okay?”

again, he could only muster a nod in response. you gently pulled on his pants, dragging them down to his ankles and only leaving his boxers behind. you could see the growing erection under the fabric, and the thought of what was underneath made your mouth water.

before you removed the fabric, you let you palm lay flat across his erection, sliding up it ever so gently. Shoto barked out a moan, and you felt pleased with yourself.

“tell me to stop if you need me to.” you told him, but with his breathing already labored from one touch you doubted he would speak up.

you placed a soft kiss on the top of the fabric, feeling his cock twitch underneath at the contact.

as if on pure instinct, Shoto’s hand went to your head, working his fingers into your hair. he didn’t know what had driven him to do such a thing, but it felt right.

with his apparent eagerness, you hooked a finger under the band of his boxers before tugging, sucking in a breath once his cock was released from the fabric. of course, shoto was beautiful, it made sense that his cock would be too.

you felt a warmth pooling in your stomach, travelling down to wet between your legs. you lightly tapped his thigh, getting his attention and having him look down at you before you gently licked a stripe from the base of him to the top.

his fingers gripped your hair, not so rough, and he hissed. fuck, his friends never told him it felt this good. every primal instinct inside of Shoto was screaming at him to pull your mouth down onto his cock and stuff your face. it took all his strength to restrain himself from fear of hurting you.

“that f-feels...” Shoto stopped mid-sentence when you pressed your tongue flat against his tip.

“talk to me, Sho.” you whispered, kissing his already leaking tip and taking his precum into your mouth.

“don’t stop.” he whined, his hand fisting in your hair tighter than before.

having Shoto beg in front of you sent dirty, wicked thoughts straight to your brain. you’d never walked someone through sex before, let alone something you deemed as simple as a blowjob, but seeing him coming undone before you drove you feral.

you were done with the little kisses and licks you’d been giving him, finally deciding to take him fully. he watched with half lidded eyes as you opened your mouth and eased his tip past your lips, using your tongue to caress circles around it. Shoto’s head dipped back in pleasure, leaving you to take in more of him.

fuck, you hadn’t realized how big he’d actually be. you struggled to lower your mouth over his cock, before you finally felt it hit the back of your throat. Shoto moaned at the feeling of his tip touching your throat. as gentle as he could, he bucked into your mouth, wanting to feel more.

“holy shit, y/n.” he breathed, trying to keep his body from spasming out of control. the feeling of you taking him was delicious, and it was making his head swim. if he hadn’t been on the bed already, Shoto swore he might’ve passed out from pleasure.

you worked your mouth up and down, slowly at first, to get all of him wet with your spit. with each bobbing motion you made, more moans spilled from Shoto’s lips. you could feel him twitching in your mouth every time your tongue stroked his leaking tip.

to give your jaw a break, you pulled your mouth off him with a satisfying pop before letting your hands replace where you were. it took two hands, but with the saliva you’d left behind and his precum dripping, you stroked him gently, working his cock between your hands.

“i feel hot all over.” Shoto murmured, one hand still on your hair while the other gripped at the sheet.

“is this what you feel when you touch yourself?” you asked, looking up at him as he panted with every stroke.

“y-yes. if you don’t stop, i think i might...” he moaned, breaking up his sentence, when you swiped your thumb over the soft spot between his shaft and tip.

“cum for me, like you do when it’s your hand and not mine.” you instructed, before taking his tip back into your mouth but letting your hands work up and down his shaft, picking up your pace.

Shoto began to thrust more wildly, unable to stop himself from almost fucking your face. a coil had formed in his stomach, and it was so close to being released. when he’d done this himself, it was pleasurable, but only a means to an end to solve an erection. now, what you were doing to him felt like heaven, your mouth a soft and warm rapture.

he felt that heat in his stomach grow hotter and hotter, until it felt like it was burning. Shoto gripped your hair in his hand, lifting his hips to drive his cock until he felt the back of your throat, and only then did he feel that band within him snap. he let loose a load moan as he saw stars, shooting his cum deep into your throat and watching as you took every drop, gazing up at him with beautiful eyes.

when he started to come down from his release, you pulled your mouth off his cock, licking up the last dribbles of cum before placing a gentle kiss on his tip. “how was that, Sho?” you asked, your face flush as you looked up.

sweat gleamed on Shoto’s forehead and torso, his breathing heavy but his smile unwavering. that familiar grin, the one that made your heart skip a beat, was fixed on you.

instead of speaking, he cupped your face in his hands, pulling you gently towards him. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both passionate and tender. between kisses on your lips, cheeks, and neck, Shoto panted out, “that was amazing. you’re amazing.”

you laughed softly into his mouth, your cheeks flushing at the compliment. “i’m glad you feel that way,” you replied, your voice warm and affectionate.

as you both caught your breath, Shoto settled you onto his lap and ran his fingers through your hair. his voice was a gentle murmur as he nuzzled into your neck. “as much as i want you to show me more, i’m struggling to keep my eyes open,” he said softly. you chuckled, understanding his exhaustion.

“let’s get some sleep, okay?” you kissed his forehead, before helping him to stand from the bed.

as you changed into comfortable pajamas, Shoto merely pulled his boxers back on before climbing into your sheets, snuggling comfortably into one of your pillows. you climbed under the covers next to him before he pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your waist and having your back pressed against his chest.

“show me more tomorrow.” Shoto whispered, kissing your shoulder before letting his head sink into the pillow.

you blushed, but gave a lazy mhm in response, settling in comfortably next to him.

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Link to Bakugo x reader here

(word count: 2,328)

Link to Kirishima x reader here

(word count: 902)

#mha fanfiction #bhna fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bhna x reader #mha smut #mha shoto #shoto x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #shoto smut

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scarlet-star-witch · 5 months ago

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The shackles of duty

Summary: In the aftermath of Aegon's fall in the Battle of Rook's Rest, Aemond envisions his future as King with his Queen at his side

Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and in a secret relationship with Aemond

Part 2 to His Sacrifice

WC: 2.2 K

Warnings: Implied smut, possessive Aemond, kinda dark Aemond, but not really, he's more pathetic than anything

Aemond stared at the plumes of smoke that billowed from where his brother and his dragon had fallen.

His heart still raced with satisfaction, the adrenaline pumping through his veins keeping him in an almost high-like state he never wanted to come down from. His victorious smirk remained as he turned to the woman beside him who stared at the smoke with a conflicted expression.

“With any luck, Aegon has perished, or at least will in due time.”

She looked to Aemond, the furrow in her brow deep, betraying her indecision and unease.

She always knew what Aemond was capable of, she knew of the darkness within him, but to see it now, displayed so blatant before her very eyes, shook something within her, something she didn’t know she could feel towards the man she had loved for so long.

Aemond grabbed her hands, holding them in his tightly as he turned to face her fully.

“We can go back to King’s Landing. With Aegon’s state, I will be named Regent. I will sit the throne and you will be my Queen.”

“What?” She breathed out, the only word she’d been able to speak in the past few minutes.

“Aegon is not long for this world, surely. It won't be long until I become King. No one can deny us anything now. We can marry, you can stay with me by my side, we can rule together.” Aemond spoke with a franticness that was so unlike him, it unsettled her more than the gleam of desire in his eye in that moment.

“Aemond…”

“We can finally be together.” He reminded her as his hand reached out to grasp her cheek affectionately, the longing he displayed tearing her insides, as if she were being pulled in two radically different directions.

She watched him for a long moment, savoring the sight of that beautiful face she’d spent the past few years memorizing, every perfect dip and curve that never failed to leave her breathless, and emotion swelled as she realized she’d have to break his heart.

“I can’t go with you.” She told him, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it would soften the blow, as if saying it quietly would mean it wouldn’t completely destroy him.

His lip twitched, his smile fading slowly as he took in her words, praying he had misheard her. His grip on her hands tightened, as if he could keep her with him, as if he could forever stop her from leaving his side.

“But…”

“Aemond, you know I cannot go with you. No one will accept-”

“Fuck what they think! You are mine and the second I sit on that throne I can make it so. No one could stop us.”

She shook her head and moved to pull away, but he didn’t let her, his hand sturdy in hers, a look of heartbreak on his face as he felt her hesitation.

“We are at war, Aemond. Our marriage will not solve anything, it won’t miraculously dissolve what is happening in our family, it will only create more chaos.”

“I don’t care.” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped towards her, his hands now cradling her face. “I don’t give a shit about this war, you are all I want.”

She sniffled, bowing her head to avoid looking into his eye. It was too painful to see how she was hurting him.

“Think about what you are asking of me.”

“I am asking you to be with me.”

“You are asking me to abandon my mother!” She yelled.

His chest ached, the rush he’d been thriving on suddenly turning to despair as he looked at her, realizing he wouldn’t soon have her in his arms as he had hoped.

“We can fix this.” He spoke with reverence, but it did little to soothe the storm within her.

“Maybe we could have… but that was before- before Lucerys.”

Aemond flinched, recoiling as if she had delivered a physical blow.

“You know my regret for what happened. You know I would have never willingly jeopardize-”

“I know, I know.” She whispered tearfully, her hands moving up to grip at his wrists, feeling his pulse race beneath her touch.

She remembered the night after learning of her brother’s death as she met Aemond on their Island, how he immediately fell to his knees in forgiveness, how he let her scream and cry and rage at him, how they held each other as they cried, knowing the state of their family had broken beyond repair, ruining what little chance they thought they had to one day be together as they wanted.

She wiped her tears and with one last gentle caress to his hands, pulled them away from her, taking a step backwards before he could reach out to her once more.

“I have to go.”

With every step she took away from him, he took a step closer, his face shifting each time she moved, his frown growing deeper and deeper as it abruptly dawned on him that he was about to lose her, yet again.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, the sight of him blurring as tears sprang to her eyes. She turned and didn’t look back as she climbed upon Vermithor, ignoring the pit that grew in her stomach, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that screamed at her to stay with him.

She didn’t dare spare him a look. She knew she’d cave if she did, that she would fall back into his arms and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She wiped her tears as she flew, ignoring the pull she felt to her other half as the distance between them grew greater.

A yell of pure rage escaped him as he flipped the table in his room. He grabbed anything he could get his hands on, throwing any and every object he found across the room, destroying everything in his line of sight.

His bed was in disarray, the tapestries that lined the walls torn to pieces at his feet, candles knocked to the ground, trinkets shattered into nothing but dust as he raged.

He only stopped when there was nothing left to ruin.

His chest heaved with exertion as he let himself slump against his bed, burying his face in his hands as he struggled for breath, forcing himself not to let his tears fall.

His mind raced with her words, each like a dagger to the heart, each one tearing away a piece of him, leaving him unwhole and untethered to the one thing in the world he cared about.

Nothing made sense without her. It had only been hours and he was already spiraling.

Simply picturing her beautiful face caused his chest to ache, as if the dagger of her words had been real, causing him to bleed and fade away until there was nothing left of him.

He could not let this be the end.

With a half-formed plan in his mind, he stood with haste and reached for his cloak, ensuring the hood covered his head and stepped out of his room, his steps quick and purposeful.

He would not let her slip away from him again.

Her mind was racing, keeping her from her much needed sleep. She couldn’t stop picturing Aemond’s face, the pain she had caused him stirring her own.

She couldn’t ignore the regret that overtook every inch of her. While she loved her mother and longed to see her as Queen, she couldn’t deny that Aemond had stitched himself within the fabric of her, he was now a part of her she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t quite know when it happened, all she knew was that it was too late to go back now, too late to pretend she felt nothing for him. She couldn’t move forward without him.

She had to see him.

She hissed a curse and tore the covers off, getting to her feet and dressing in her riding leathers quickly, acknowledging the stupidity of her plan, but steadily ignoring it.

It was easy to sneak out of the castle. She’d been doing it for years now, she could do it with her eyes closed.

It took little time to get Vermithor in the air and on the course for King’s Landing, her heart in her throat as she flew. She didn’t know what awaited her, what danger she would be placing upon her head, all she knew was that once there, Aemond would never let any harm befall her.

It was the only assurance she needed to drive forward into enemy territory.

Suddenly, the bellowing roar of a dragon sounded over the din of the wind.

She startled and narrowed her eyes, the moon providing light for her to see, but as the hulking figure of the dragon coming before her became clear, she soon realized, her eyes widening as she stared back at Vhagar.

A breathless laugh escaped her, pure relief overtaking her as she realized Aemond was in the same state she found herself in, unable to settle for their circumstance.

She pulled at the reins, directing Vermithor to descend, heading towards their Island with Aemond following seconds behind.

The two mighty dragons landed and their riders met each other's gaze, the both of them taking a moment to simply admire each other, their shared smiles of equal relief and awe that they had had the same thought, the same longing to see each other.

Her hands almost shook with anticipation as she untied herself from the saddle.

She felt nervous, as if it were their first meeting in secret, as she approached him, but her reservations didn’t last as Aemond stepped towards her quickly, with no hesitation.

A shaking breath escaped her as she was pulled into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered weakly, her voice strained as her throat tightened, overwhelmed to be back in his loving arms.

He shook his head and held to her tighter, softly whispering his relief to see her again

Time was lost to them as they embraced, as they held each other as only lovers could.

“I don’t know what will happen next.” She mumbled, hating to break the moment with their reality, but it wasn’t something they could ignore for much longer.

“I don’t either.” He admitted quietly. “But what I do know is that, whatever I do, it will not be without you. I don’t care how many times I will have to chase you down and bring you back to me, I won’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to chase me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His exhale of relief was loud and she barely had time to apologize again before he was kissing her firmly, leaving them both breathless and lightheaded with desire.

His touch was desperate as he laid her down in the dewey grass. It was familiar to them, these fleeting and frantic touches all they could spare in the war that ravaged their families.

He took her with an intensity as if it had been years since he’d felt her touch and not mere days as it had been. She felt more loved than ever before as he lavished his praise onto her, as his lips caressed every inch of her, as he made love to her with the burning passion as only a man in love could.

Their cries of pleasure echoed on the desolate Island, their secret remaining shrouded in darkness and isolation.

As he spilled his seed within her, his call of her name sending shivers down the length of her body, she held him tightly, wishing she could hold onto him forever, wishing she didn’t have to leave his side time and time again.

He wasn’t quick to part from her, laying over her, his hands still eager to touch her, to remember the curves of her body in fear that it would be the last time.

But they would never let it be the last, not as long as they still breathed life.

He left her side with a promise to see her the next night.

There was no mention of the throne, of titles or battles. It didn’t exist in their time together, the both of them determined to blissfully ignore the reality that was slowly crushing them, slowly pulling them further and further apart, no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

He lingered in her mind as she woke alone but sated, the phantom bliss of his touch, bringing a smile to her lips in the early morning. She could still feel the warmth between her thighs, feel the pleasurable burn of the marks he had left on her body.

She smiled politely as her maid entered, placing breakfast down for her.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Princess?”

Moon tea.

The words were on the tip of her tongue. She trusted her handmaiden, she’d never given her a sideways glance over the past years when she requested the drink. Her mother was still blissfully unaware, which meant her maid was at least keeping her secret.

Yet the words didn’t come, a decision made in a fraction of a second.

“No, thank you. That is all.”

As her maid left, her hand drifted to her stomach, a smile forming on her lips as she wondered what their child would look like.

Hope you enjoyed! I have more Aemond content coming! I literally have a thousand ideas for this beautiful man, so stay tuned xx

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen fanfic

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emthimofnight · 11 months ago

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Name ✨Stellar the Hedgehog✨

Age Varies based on what age I draw her, but let's say 16!

Pronouns She/Her

Extra ✨Stellar's favorite color is red. ✨Her favorite food is chili dogs. ✨She is bisexual. ✨Her favorite flower is lavender, because it reminds her of home! ✨She learned how to skate from Shadow. ✨She calls Shadow "papa" and Sonic "dad". ✨She desperately wants to make her family and friends proud. ✨Her best friend is Camellia the Cat, the daughter of Blaze and Amy. ✨She loves racing Sonic, but is frustrated he always lets her win. ✨She can be VERY impulsive when angered, much like both of her parents! ✨She is SUPER dense when it comes to romance. She has no idea ✨Camellia has been in love with her since they were little! ✨The inhibitor rings she wears keep her powers under control, but they also prevent her from truly mastering them. ✨Her powers are designed after collapsing stars/black holes. Extremely destructive to both herself and everything around her. ✨She has no awareness to the extent of the latent power inside her.

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fioredeciliego · 20 days ago

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Lost in the Light - Giselle x Fem!Reader

12.6K words

The carnival entrance was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a golden glow on the crowds below. Somewhere to the left, a man was calling out for people to try their luck at a ring toss, while the smell of fresh funnel cakes wafted from a nearby food stall. Y/N stood near the ticket booth, craning her neck in a futile attempt to spot her friends among the throng of laughing families and couples.

She sighed, clutching her phone as another unanswered text lit up the screen. Where are you guys? she typed again, glancing around in frustration. The noise, the lights—it was all starting to feel overwhelming.

Just as she turned to step away, someone bumped into her hard from the side. The collision sent Y/N stumbling a bit, and before she could process what was happening, she felt something light and fluffy cascade down her arm.

“Oh no! My popcorn!”

Y/N blinked, looking down to see buttery kernels scattered across the pavement and clinging to her jacket. She looked up, her annoyance quickly dissolving as she met the sheepish gaze of the person responsible.

“I am so sorry,” the girl stammered, brushing her short, raven-black hair out of her face. She wore an oversized beige jacket over a simple black top, and the mortified look in her doe-like eyes was enough to make Y/N’s irritation melt away.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, brushing some popcorn off her sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” the girl replied, giving an apologetic smile. “But my popcorn, clearly, is not.” She glanced at the mess on the ground with exaggerated despair. “It didn’t deserve to go out like this.”

Y/N let out a laugh, surprising herself. “Tragic, really. It had so much more life to live.”

“Exactly!” The girl grinned, holding up the now-empty popcorn box. “Guess I’ll have to grab another, though at this rate, I might as well wear it instead.”

The humor in her voice was infectious, and Y/N found herself relaxing despite the chaos around them. “Here, let me help you clean up,” she offered, but the girl waved her off.

“It’s okay. No point crying over spilled popcorn, right?” She tilted her head, her expression turning curious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N sighed, glancing at her phone again. “Yeah, my friends. But I think I’ve officially lost them.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “No way, same here. I was supposed to meet up with my group, but I kind of got distracted by... everything.” She gestured vaguely at the carnival behind her, a slight pout forming on her lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her animated frustration. “It’s easy to get lost in all this. It’s like sensory overload.”

“Right? I mean, who puts the popcorn stand next to the bumper cars? Recipe for disaster.”

They both laughed, the awkwardness of their initial collision fading.

“I’m Aeri, by the way,” the girl said, holding out a hand.

“Y/N,” Y/N replied, shaking it. Aeri’s grip was warm and firm, and for a moment, Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in her chest.

“So,” Aeri began, letting go of Y/N’s hand. “Since we’re both stranded in this neon wilderness, how about we help each other out? Two lost people are better than one, right?”

Y/N hesitated. “You want to team up?”

“Why not?” Aeri shrugged, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Unless you have a better plan?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment. She had no idea where her friends were, and navigating the carnival alone sounded like a nightmare. Besides, there was something oddly comforting about Aeri’s presence, even though they’d just met.

“Alright,” Y/N said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “But if we end up more lost than we already are, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Aeri replied with a playful smirk. “Now, let’s find our people—and maybe some replacement popcorn while we’re at it.”

They started walking together, weaving through the bustling crowds. Aeri took the lead, her head turning this way and that as if she were a detective on a mission. Y/N followed closely, trying not to lose sight of her in the sea of faces.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. “What’s your group like?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Aeri replied, her tone light. “Chaotic, but great. We came here for the rides, but knowing them, they’re probably stuck at the game booths trying to win some ridiculous prize.”

“Classic carnival behavior,” Y/N said, nodding. “What about you? Are you a rides person or more into the food and games?”

“Hmm.” Aeri tilted her head thoughtfully. “Rides are fun, but there’s something about carnival food that just hits differently, you know? Like, when else do you get an excuse to eat fried Oreos and pretend it’s normal?”

Y/N laughed. “True. I’m more of a rides person, though. Love the adrenaline.”

Aeri grinned. “Noted. We’ll have to hit the Ferris wheel later.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A Ferris wheel isn’t exactly an adrenaline rush.”

“It is if you’re afraid of heights,” Aeri quipped, her smirk widening.

Their banter continued as they wandered through the carnival, stopping occasionally to look around for any familiar faces. They didn’t find their friends, but Y/N found herself enjoying the conversation more than she expected.

“So,” Aeri said after a while, “what’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

“My friends thought it would be fun,” Y/N replied. “And it is, I guess. Just didn’t expect to get separated.”

Aeri nodded. “Same here. Honestly, though, I’m kind of glad I got lost. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have run into you.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard, and she felt her cheeks heat up slightly. “You mean you wouldn’t have spilled popcorn all over me?”

“Exactly,” Aeri said with a grin. “Clearly, fate wanted us to meet.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Something told her this night was going to be a lot more memorable than she’d anticipated.

The carnival stretched out before them, a maze of glowing attractions and excited laughter. They’d meandered toward the rides, the colorful glow of a Ferris wheel dominating the skyline. Aeri slowed as they approached the ticket booth, reaching for her wallet with casual confidence.

“Alright,” Aeri declared, flipping open her wallet with a flourish. “Let’s grab some tickets and hit the rides.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Let’s? Who said I agreed to rides?”

“Oh, please,” Aeri said, shooting her a playful look. “You just admitted you’re a rides person. No way you’re backing out now.”

“Fine,” Y/N conceded, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “But we’re splitting the cost.”

“Absolutely not.” Aeri stepped forward, handing a crisp bill to the ticket attendant before Y/N could protest.

“Wait—” Y/N stammered, reaching for her own wallet. “I said we’re splitting!”

Aeri waved her off, a cheeky grin tugging at her lips. “Consider it my apology for the popcorn incident.”

The attendant handed over a stack of tickets, which Aeri took with a triumphant air. She turned to Y/N, holding the tickets just out of reach. “See? Problem solved.”

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t need an apology. Besides, you’re not the only one who can pay, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Aeri teased, stepping closer and dangling the tickets like a prize. “But I’m not letting you. What kind of person would I be if I let the victim of my popcorn tragedy pay for her own fun?”

Y/N sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that before,” Aeri said with a wink, tucking the tickets into her jacket.

Y/N watched her for a moment, half tempted to argue further. But there was something disarming about Aeri’s playful confidence, the way she so effortlessly took charge. It was... oddly endearing.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “But next time, I’m paying.”

“Deal,” Aeri replied, extending a hand as if to shake on it.

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand. The moment their palms met, Aeri gave a mock-serious nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, pulling her hand back, though she couldn’t suppress a small smile.

They turned toward the rides, the tickets now burning a metaphorical hole in Aeri’s pocket.

“So,” Aeri began, surveying the attractions. “What’s first? Roller coaster? Haunted house? Or are we starting slow with the merry-go-round?”

Y/N snorted. “Merry-go-round? What are we, five?”

“Hey, merry-go-rounds can be fun,” Aeri said, feigning offense. “But fine. What’s your pick, adrenaline junkie?”

Y/N scanned the area, her eyes landing on a spinning ride that looked borderline terrifying. “How about that one?”

Aeri followed her gaze and let out a low whistle. “Bold choice. I like it.”

As they made their way to the ride, Aeri glanced at Y/N out of the corner of her eye. “You know,” she said casually, “this whole stubborn thing you’ve got going on is kind of cute.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“You heard me,” Aeri said, her smirk growing.

“I—I’m not stubborn,” Y/N protested, though her face was rapidly heating up.

“Sure you’re not,” Aeri said, clearly enjoying herself.

Before Y/N could come up with a retort, they reached the line for the ride. Aeri handed over two tickets with a flourish, and the attendant waved them through.

“After you,” Aeri said, motioning for Y/N to go first.

Y/N huffed but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks... I guess.”

As they climbed into the ride and secured the harnesses, Y/N shot Aeri a sidelong glance. “You know, you’re awfully cocky for someone who’s scared of Ferris wheels.”

Aeri gasped in mock indignation. “Excuse me, I am not scared of Ferris wheels. I merely have a healthy respect for heights.”

“Right,” Y/N said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The ride operator called out instructions, and soon they were off, the world spinning in a blur of lights and laughter.

Aeri’s earlier teasing faded as she threw her hands up and let out a genuine laugh, her carefree energy infectious. Y/N found herself laughing too, all thoughts of their earlier bickering forgotten.

As the ride slowed to a stop, Aeri turned to Y/N, her cheeks flushed from the excitement. “Alright, I admit it,” she said breathlessly. “You have good taste in rides.”

“Glad you approve,” Y/N said, grinning.

They climbed out and started toward the next attraction, the playful banter picking up right where it left off.

The funhouse stood at the edge of the carnival, its colorful neon sign flickering like a siren’s call. Laughter echoed from within, mingling with carnival music and the distant hum of rides.

“A funhouse?” Y/N asked skeptically, eyeing the swirling patterns painted on the facade.

“What? Scared of a few mirrors?” Aeri teased, nudging her playfully.

“Not scared,” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms. “Just seems a little... pointless.”

“Pointless?” Aeri gasped in mock offense. “The funhouse is a carnival classic. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “it’s perfect for someone like you. Maybe you’ll finally find your way out of being directionally challenged.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Fine. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

They stepped inside, the air immediately cooler and filled with the distorted echoes of giggles and shuffling feet. The maze of mirrors loomed ahead, stretching in every direction.

“Alright, navigator,” Y/N said, gesturing grandly. “Lead the way.”

“Gladly,” Aeri replied, striding forward confidently—only to smack straight into a mirror.

The dull thud was followed by a beat of silence, then Y/N’s laughter erupted.

“Oh, you’re definitely qualified to make fun of my sense of direction,” Y/N teased, clutching her sides.

Aeri rubbed her forehead, trying to maintain her dignity. “That was just a warm-up. Watch and learn.”

They ventured deeper into the maze, the mirrored walls playing tricks on their perception. Every turn seemed to lead to a distorted version of themselves, their reflections stretching, shrinking, or multiplying in ways that were equal parts amusing and unsettling.

At one point, Aeri stopped in front of a mirror that made her appear comically tall and thin. “What do you think?” she asked, striking an exaggerated pose. “Supermodel material, right?”

Y/N snorted. “If supermodels were designed by Picasso, sure.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the future of fashion,” Aeri said, feigning a pout before breaking into a laugh.

They continued to navigate the maze, the laughter flowing easily between them. But as they rounded another corner, Y/N suddenly realized Aeri was no longer beside her.

“Aeri?” she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the confined space.

“Over here!” Aeri’s voice replied, though it was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Y/N turned in circles, each mirror reflecting a different version of herself. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out which path to take.

“Wow,” Aeri’s voice called again, this time closer. “You really are bad at this.”

“Keep talking,” Y/N retorted, squinting at her surroundings. “I’ll find you eventually.”

“Or maybe I’ll find you first,” Aeri quipped, her tone teasing.

Y/N groaned, taking another hesitant step forward. “This is ridiculous. How is it this hard to find one person?”

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding,” Aeri said, suddenly stepping out from behind a mirrored corner right in front of Y/N.

Y/N jumped, letting out an involuntary yelp. “Geez, warn me next time!”

Aeri grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “What, no thanks for rescuing you from your maze-induced despair?”

“Rescuing me?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who got us separated in the first place.”

“Details, details,” Aeri said, waving a hand dismissively.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet,” Aeri said, leaning slightly closer, “you keep hanging around.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sudden shift in Aeri’s tone catching her off guard. But before she could respond, Aeri stepped back with a wink.

“Come on,” Aeri said, gesturing toward the exit sign visible in the distance. “Let’s get out of here before you start leaving breadcrumbs to find your way back.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, following her toward the exit. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.”

As they emerged from the funhouse, the cool night air hit them, the carnival’s vibrant energy washing over them once again.

“So,” Aeri said, turning to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “What’s next? Haunted house? Ferris wheel? Or do you need a break to recover from your navigation failure?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll take on whatever you’ve got, Picasso Supermodel.”

The warm glow of carnival lights painted everything in soft hues of pink and gold as Y/N and Aeri wandered toward the food stalls. The air was thick with the scent of sugar, fried dough, and buttery popcorn.

Aeri’s eyes lit up as she spotted the cotton candy stand, the machine spinning delicate clouds of pink and blue. “Oh, we’re stopping here. No arguments.”

Y/N chuckled. “Not arguing. Cotton candy’s basically a carnival necessity.”

They approached the stall, where the vendor—a cheerful older man in a striped shirt—greeted them with a wide smile. “What’ll it be? Pink, blue, or a mix?”

“Pink,” Aeri said decisively.

“Mix,” Y/N countered at the same time.

Aeri gave her a playful glare. “Pink is the classic choice. Don’t mess with perfection.”

“Blue’s just as good, and a mix is the best of both worlds,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

The vendor laughed, holding up his hands. “How about I make you the biggest one I’ve got, with both colors? Settles the debate, no?”

“Fine,” Aeri said with mock reluctance. “But only because I’m feeling generous.”

Y/N smirked. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

The vendor spun the cotton candy into an enormous, fluffy confection that looked almost too big to eat. Almost. Aeri handed over the cash, waving off Y/N’s attempt to contribute.

“Still trying to pay for everything, huh?” Y/N teased as they walked away from the stall.

“Of course,” Aeri said breezily, tearing off a piece of the cotton candy. “It’s part of my charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “If you say so.”

They found a quiet spot near a row of game booths, the noise of the carnival slightly muffled by the distance. Sitting on a low wooden fence, they passed the cotton candy back and forth, each taking turns tearing off pieces of the sugary treat.

“This stuff tastes exactly like I remember from when I was a kid,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Did you come to carnivals a lot?” Aeri asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Not a lot,” Y/N admitted. “But whenever I did, I always made a beeline for the cotton candy. It felt like eating a cloud.”

Aeri grinned. “My friends and I used to dare each other to see who could eat the biggest piece without getting sticky fingers. Spoiler: None of us ever won.”

Y/N laughed, imagining a younger Aeri in the midst of a sugary, sticky competition. “I would’ve been the same. Carnivals were the one place I could let loose. Everything felt so magical, you know?”

Aeri nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Like nothing bad could happen when you were surrounded by all these lights and happy faces.”

For a moment, they both fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The hum of the carnival filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the ringing of a game booth bell.

“Okay,” Aeri said suddenly, breaking the moment. “Important question: What’s your strategy for eating cotton candy?”

Y/N blinked at her. “Strategy?”

“Yes, strategy,” Aeri insisted, holding up the cotton candy like it was a priceless artifact. “Do you eat it in big bites or little pieces?”

“Little pieces, obviously,” Y/N said, demonstrating by plucking a small tuft of pink. “It’s about savoring the experience.”

“Wrong,” Aeri declared, leaning in dramatically. “The correct answer is big bites. Maximum flavor, minimal effort.”

Y/N gasped, feigning offense. “That’s barbaric! Cotton candy deserves respect.”

Aeri laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s literally just sugar. I think it can handle a little barbarism.”

Shaking her head, Y/N grabbed the cotton candy and took an exaggeratedly dainty bite. “See? This is the proper way to—”

Before she could finish, Aeri lunged forward and took an enormous bite directly from the side of the cotton candy, her grin mischievous and unapologetic.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, holding the now-lopsided treat out of reach.

Aeri just laughed, a strand of cotton candy stuck to the corner of her mouth. “What? I’m demonstrating my superior strategy.”

Y/N sighed in mock exasperation but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Aeri said, echoing their earlier funhouse exchange, “you’re still hanging around.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up but quickly distracted herself by tearing off another piece of cotton candy. “Whatever. Just don’t eat it all before I get my share.”

They continued eating, the conversation drifting to their favorite carnival rides and games, childhood memories, and a few stories that had them both doubled over in laughter.

By the time the cotton candy was gone, their fingers sticky and their faces aching from smiling, Y/N felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sugar rush.

“You know,” Aeri said as they stood to leave, “for someone who’s allegedly lost, you’re not bad company.”

“Right back at you,” Y/N replied, bumping Aeri’s shoulder lightly.

The Ferris wheel stood tall at the center of the carnival, its colorful lights blinking rhythmically against the night sky. It was a beacon of nostalgia, the kind of ride that people couldn’t resist no matter how many times they’d been on one before.

“We have to do it,” Aeri said, her eyes shining as she pointed to the ride.

Y/N hesitated. “Really? Isn’t it kind of... slow?”

“That’s the point,” Aeri replied, tugging on Y/N’s arm. “It’s a classic. Plus, the view at the top is unbeatable.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Aeri was already pulling her toward the line. It wasn’t long before they were climbing into one of the swinging gondolas, the carnival noise fading slightly as the ride operator secured the door.

As the wheel began its gentle ascent, Y/N found herself glancing nervously at the open sides of the gondola. “So, fun fact: I’m not the biggest fan of heights.”

Aeri smirked. “You’re afraid of heights, but you came to a carnival?”

“I didn’t plan to end up on a Ferris wheel,” Y/N retorted, gripping the edge of the seat.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice softer now. She placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “It’s just a slow ride with a nice view. You’ll love it.”

The gondola swayed slightly as they reached the first stop, and Y/N sucked in a breath. Aeri chuckled but didn’t tease further, instead pointing out over the edge.

“Look,” she said. “You can see the whole carnival from here.”

Y/N followed her gaze. The scene below was breathtaking: a sea of colorful lights and bustling activity, the cheerful melodies of carnival music floating up to meet them. It was beautiful, almost surreal, and Y/N felt her tension ease slightly.

“Okay,” Y/N admitted. “It’s... pretty nice.”

“Told you,” Aeri said with a grin.

The ride continued its slow climb, the stops at each gondola giving them more time to take in the view. As they neared the top, the noise of the carnival grew faint, leaving them in a bubble of quiet punctuated by the creak of the Ferris wheel.

“Do you come to carnivals a lot?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Aeri admitted, leaning back against the seat. “But when I do, I always end up on the Ferris wheel. There’s just something about it... I don’t know. It feels timeless.”

“Timeless?”

Aeri nodded, her gaze distant as she looked out over the carnival. “Yeah. Like, when you’re here, everything else disappears. The deadlines, the expectations, the chaos of real life—it all just... fades. It’s like stepping into a memory.”

Y/N watched her, the soft glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. It was rare to see someone so unguarded, so honest.

“That’s... really beautiful,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri turned to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, feeling her cheeks warm. “I never thought of it that way before, but you’re right. It does feel like that.”

The gondola reached the very top of the wheel and paused, leaving them suspended high above the carnival. The view was stunning, the world below a patchwork of lights and movement.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence comfortable as they took in the scene.

“I think that’s why I like coming here,” Aeri said finally. “Because it’s a chance to just... be. No distractions, no expectations. Just the moment.”

Y/N nodded, her hands relaxing on the edge of the seat. “I get that. It’s hard to find that kind of peace sometimes.”

Aeri glanced at her, her expression softening. “Yeah. But tonight’s been nice. Meeting you, wandering around like this... it’s been a good escape.”

Y/N felt her heart skip at the sincerity in Aeri’s voice. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she settled for a small, grateful smile. “Same here.”

The gondola began its slow descent, the lights growing brighter as they neared the ground. Aeri leaned back, her playful demeanor returning as she said, “See? Survived the heights. Told you it wasn’t so bad.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine. You were right. But I’m not admitting it again.”

Aeri laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter.

As the Ferris wheel came to a stop and they climbed out of the gondola, Y/N found herself wishing the ride had lasted a little longer. There was something about being up there, away from everything, that had felt... special.

“So,” Aeri said as they stepped back into the bustling carnival. “What’s next on the agenda, partner?”

Y/N glanced at her, a newfound sense of ease settling between them. “I guess we’ll just have to see where the night takes us.”

The carnival's game booths were alive with energy, shouts of excitement and groans of defeat blending into a symphony of playful chaos. Brightly colored signs promised impossible prizes—giant teddy bears, oversized giraffes, and a unicorn with glittering wings.

“Alright, we’re doing this,” Aeri declared, marching toward a booth with plastic rings and glass bottles.

Y/N followed, amused. “Do you even know how to play?”

“How hard can it be?” Aeri shot back, flashing a confident grin.

The booth attendant, a wiry man with a mischievous smile, handed Aeri a set of brightly colored rings. “The trick is all in the wrist,” he said, clearly enjoying the challenge in her determined expression.

Aeri squared her shoulders, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she aimed for the neck of a bottle. She tossed the first ring with dramatic flair, only to watch it bounce off the edge and clatter onto the counter.

“First try. Warm-up,” Aeri said quickly, brushing off the miss.

Y/N crossed her arms, suppressing a laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, pro.”

Aeri tossed the next ring, and then the next, each one missing spectacularly. One even managed to ricochet off a bottle and hit the booth attendant, who dodged with practiced ease.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “Wow. You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m just building suspense,” Aeri replied, grabbing the last ring. “This is the one.”

She focused, her expression so serious that Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing again. Aeri let the ring fly, and it wobbled through the air in slow motion before landing... nowhere near the bottles.

Aeri threw her hands up. “Rigged. Absolutely rigged.”

The booth attendant chuckled. “Want to try again?”

“Not a chance,” Aeri grumbled, stepping aside.

Y/N nudged her. “Move over, rookie. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Aeri raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re better?”

“Watch and learn,” Y/N said confidently, grabbing a new set of rings.

Her first toss landed perfectly around a bottle neck. The booth attendant clapped, and Y/N grinned, glancing at Aeri. “That’s how you do it.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Aeri muttered, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Y/N landed another ring, and then another, each one precise and effortless. By the end of her turn, she had scored enough points for the grand prize.

“Alright, pick your prize,” the booth attendant said, gesturing to the wall of stuffed animals.

Y/N scanned the options, her eyes landing on a pastel pink bunny with floppy ears. She pointed at it, and the attendant handed it over with a smile.

Y/N turned to Aeri, holding out the bunny. “Here. A consolation prize for your, uh, impressive effort.”

Aeri stared at the bunny, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “You’re giving me the prize you won? How generous.”

“I thought you could use the comfort after that embarrassing performance,” Y/N teased, her tone light.

Aeri accepted the bunny with exaggerated seriousness, cradling it like a treasured possession. “Thank you, Y/N. I’ll cherish it forever as a reminder of my crushing defeat.”

They both burst out laughing, the playful banter easing into a comfortable rhythm.

“Alright, hotshot,” Aeri said as they wandered away from the booth, the bunny tucked under her arm. “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of carnival game prodigy?”

Y/N shrugged. “What can I say? I have skills.”

Aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Next game is mine. No way I’m letting you show me up again.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Y/N replied, her competitive streak flaring.

They spent the next hour hopping from booth to booth, challenging each other to every game they could find. Aeri’s luck didn’t improve much, but her commentary made each attempt funnier than the last.

“Did you see that? That dart was rigged,” she declared after missing a balloon for the fourth time.

“Sure it was,” Y/N teased, effortlessly popping three balloons in a row.

By the end of the night, Y/N was the undisputed champion, her arms full of small prizes—keychains, tiny plushies, and a random rubber duck she insisted was a must-have.

As they walked away from the booths, Aeri glanced at Y/N, her smile softening. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At carnival games? It’s hardly a life skill,” Y/N joked.

“No, I mean... you’re fun to be around,” Aeri said, her tone sincere. “Even when you’re destroying my ego.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, the playful banter giving way to a moment of quiet connection. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, loser.”

Aeri chuckled, bumping Y/N’s shoulder lightly. “Just wait. I’ll win the next one.”

“Keep dreaming,” Y/N shot back, her heart feeling lighter than it had all night.

They continued through the carnival, the bunny and rubber duck swinging in their hands, the lights around them glowing brighter than ever.

The flashing lights of the carnival reflected off the surface of a meandering water ride, its log-shaped boats bobbing along a winding track. The distant sound of cheerful screams from the steep drop was enough to make Y/N hesitate as they approached.

“You seriously want to do this?” Y/N asked, eyeing the ride.

Aeri, already marching toward the line, turned back with a mischievous grin. “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little splash?”

“It’s not the splash I’m worried about,” Y/N muttered, following reluctantly.

The line moved quickly, and soon they were climbing into a log-shaped boat. Y/N settled into the front seat, the slightly damp bench hinting at what was to come. Aeri slid in behind her, her knees bumping into Y/N’s back as she adjusted.

“Ready?” Aeri asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Not really,” Y/N replied, gripping the sides of the boat as it jolted forward.

The ride started slowly, the boat gliding along a gentle current. Colorful lights from nearby attractions danced on the water, and for a moment, it was almost serene.

“This isn’t so bad,” Y/N admitted, relaxing slightly.

Aeri leaned forward, resting her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. The big drop is coming.”

Y/N turned her head, their faces suddenly close. Aeri’s teasing smile was inches away, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Before she could say anything, the boat rounded a corner, revealing the towering incline ahead.

“Oh no,” Y/N whispered, her grip tightening on the boat.

The chain lift clanked loudly as the boat began its ascent, the anticipation building with each jarring lurch upward. Aeri leaned back, clearly enjoying the suspense.

“Still not scared?” Aeri teased.

Y/N glared over her shoulder. “I’m regretting my life choices, if that counts.”

As the boat reached the peak, they had a split second to take in the view—the carnival lights sprawling out below them, the laughter and music blending into a chaotic melody. Then, with a sudden lurch, the boat tipped forward.

Y/N screamed as they plummeted down the drop, the cold spray of water hitting them head-on. Aeri’s laughter echoed behind her, mingling with Y/N’s startled shrieks.

When the boat leveled out, Y/N wiped her face, sputtering. “Oh my God, I’m soaked!”

Aeri, equally drenched, burst into uncontrollable laughter. “You should see your face right now!”

Y/N turned to glare at her but couldn’t hold back her own laughter as she saw Aeri’s hair plastered to her forehead, water dripping from her nose. “You don’t look much better!”

As the boat drifted into the next section of the ride, a smaller splash doused them again. Y/N groaned. “This was a terrible idea.”

“No way,” Aeri said, still laughing. “This is the best idea we’ve had all night.”

The ride continued with more twists and turns, each one sending small waves of water splashing over them. By the time they reached the end, both of them were completely soaked, their clothes clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

They stumbled off the ride, dripping water onto the pavement. Aeri shook her head, sending droplets flying everywhere.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, shielding her face. “You’re making it worse!”

Aeri grinned, unrepentant. “You’re already wet. What’s a little more water?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, wringing out the hem of her shirt. “We should’ve brought a change of clothes.”

“Noted for next time,” Aeri said, her tone casual but her words laced with suggestion.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the implication. She ducked her head, trying to hide her growing smile. “Let’s just find something dry to sit on before I catch hypothermia.”

They wandered toward a nearby bench, the cold night air making them shiver. Aeri plopped down first, pulling her jacket around her shoulders despite it being just as wet as the rest of her.

Y/N hesitated, eyeing the bench. “This is going to make it worse.”

“Suit yourself,” Aeri said, patting the spot beside her. “But if you stand there any longer, you’ll look even more ridiculous.”

With a sigh, Y/N sat down, immediately regretting it as the damp fabric of her jeans pressed against the cold wood.

“See?” Aeri teased. “Not so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Y/N grumbled, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as Aeri pulled out her phone and tried to check her reflection in the screen.

“Do I still look cute, or has this ride ruined my reputation?” Aeri asked dramatically.

Y/N snorted. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Harsh,” Aeri said, clutching her chest in mock offense. “But fair.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of the carnival filling the air around them. Despite the cold and the damp clothes, Y/N felt an unexpected warmth, a sense of ease that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thanks for convincing me to go on that ride,” Y/N said softly.

Aeri looked over, her expression softening. “It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Y/N met her gaze, the glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

The moment lingered, the noise of the carnival fading into the background. Then Aeri’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the spell.

“Alright,” Aeri said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s find some hot chocolate before we freeze to death.”

Y/N laughed, standing to follow her. “Good idea. And maybe a towel, if we’re lucky.”

As they walked away from the ride, their wet shoes squelching with every step, Y/N couldn’t help but think that, for all the chaos, this was turning into one of the best nights she’d ever had.

The main path of the carnival was a cacophony of colors and sounds, bustling with people moving in every direction. Strings of glowing bulbs crisscrossed overhead, bathing the scene in warm, vibrant light. Laughter and music blended with the occasional excited shrieks from the rides, creating a symphony of joyful chaos.

Y/N tugged at the sleeve of her damp jacket, glancing around in mild frustration. “Okay, we came from that direction, right?” She pointed vaguely toward a food stall selling oversized turkey legs.

Aeri tilted her head, her dark hair still damp from the log flume, and squinted at the path ahead. “Nope. That’s where we went to get cotton candy. You’re officially terrible at this.”

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. “Why are carnivals so confusing? It’s like a maze with too many distractions!”

Aeri smirked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slightly wrinkled bomber jacket. “Maybe the distractions aren’t so bad.”

Y/N turned to her, narrowing her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Aeri’s grin was unapologetic.

The crowd surged around them, groups of friends and families moving toward various attractions, the air thick with the scent of fried food and sugary treats. Y/N tried to focus on finding their way back to the Ferris wheel, where they’d last seen Aeri’s friends, but the sheer volume of people made it impossible to orient herself.

“This is hopeless,” Y/N muttered, coming to a stop near a balloon vendor. “We’ll never find anyone in this crowd.”

“Hopeless?” Aeri leaned against a nearby lamppost, her posture relaxed. “We’ve been lost together all night, and you’re only just realizing that now?”

Y/N shot her a playful glare. “I was holding onto some optimism. Sue me.”

Aeri chuckled and pushed off the lamppost, coming to stand beside Y/N. “Look, worst-case scenario, we wander around until everything closes. Could be worse.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How is that not a worst-case scenario?”

Aeri gave her a pointed look. “Because we’re lost together. And honestly? I don’t mind that so much.”

The words, delivered with casual sincerity, caught Y/N off guard. She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away, pretending to scan the crowd. “You’re too smooth for your own good, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Aeri shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “Now, do we keep wandering aimlessly, or do we make the best of it?”

Y/N sighed, a smile tugging at her own lips despite her best efforts to seem exasperated. “Fine. Let’s make the best of it. But you’re not allowed to mock my terrible sense of direction anymore.”

“No promises,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own.

They continued walking, weaving through the throngs of people. Aeri led the way this time, though she didn’t seem any more certain of their route than Y/N. Still, there was something oddly comforting about following her, as if Aeri’s confidence made the chaos of the carnival feel less overwhelming.

Every so often, Aeri would point out something interesting—a kid excitedly clutching an enormous stuffed bear, a couple attempting to share an oversized pretzel, or a particularly elaborate face painting stand. Y/N found herself laughing more often than not, the stress of being lost fading into the background.

At one point, they stopped at a small fountain tucked away from the main path. The water glimmered under the carnival lights, and the surrounding benches offered a brief respite from the bustling crowd.

“This is nice,” Y/N admitted, sitting down and stretching her legs.

Aeri sat beside her, leaning back on her hands. “See? Getting lost has its perks.”

Y/N glanced over at her, unable to hide a smile. “You’re really leaning into this whole ‘making the best of it’ thing, huh?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Aeri said with a wink.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the carnival serving as their backdrop. Y/N found herself stealing glances at Aeri, taking in the way her eyes sparkled under the lights, her expression relaxed yet alert. It was a stark contrast to the chaos around them, as if Aeri had a way of grounding herself no matter where she was.

“You’re staring,” Aeri said suddenly, not looking away from the fountain.

Y/N startled, her face heating up. “I was not!”

“Were too.” Aeri finally turned to face her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. “Maybe I was just admiring the fountain.”

“Sure,” Aeri said, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide.

The moment hung between them, unspoken but not unnoticed. Y/N felt her heart race, the atmosphere suddenly charged with something she couldn’t quite define.

Before she could dwell on it, Aeri stood and offered a hand. “Come on. We’ve got more aimless wandering to do.”

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand, letting Aeri pull her to her feet. “You’re ridiculously good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“Making being lost feel like an adventure.”

Aeri’s grin widened, her fingers lingering in Y/N’s for a moment longer than necessary. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

The carousel glowed like a beacon in the night, its swirling lights painting soft trails of gold, red, and blue across the dark sky. Delicate music floated through the air, blending with the background hum of laughter and chatter. Y/N and Aeri stood at the edge of the ride, observing the spinning horses and ornate chariots.

“I can’t remember the last time I was on a carousel,” Y/N admitted, hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

Aeri tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “What, too grown-up for a bit of whimsy?”

“I didn’t say that!” Y/N defended, though the way she avoided Aeri’s playful gaze said otherwise.

“Sure you didn’t.” Aeri smirked and nodded toward the ticket collector. “Come on, let’s ride it.”

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri was already pulling out two tickets, her confidence leaving no room for debate. Y/N sighed but followed, a small smile creeping onto her face.

The ride operator, a grizzled man with a surprisingly gentle demeanor, gestured for them to choose their seats. Aeri immediately gravitated toward a sleek black horse with a silver mane, while Y/N hesitated before selecting a white horse beside it.

As the ride started, the carousel began its gentle rotation, the horses rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Y/N gripped the pole in front of her, watching the world blur into streaks of color.

“This is actually kind of nice,” Y/N admitted, her voice raised slightly over the tinkling carousel music.

Aeri turned to her, leaning one elbow casually against the pole of her horse. “Told you. Sometimes you just have to let yourself enjoy the little things.”

Y/N glanced at her, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. Aeri’s face, illuminated by the carousel lights, was almost mesmerizing. There was something about her relaxed confidence, the way she seemed completely at ease, that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘making everything fun’ thing,” Y/N said, trying to keep her tone light.

Aeri’s lips curved into a sly smile. “What can I say? I’m good company.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Aeri teased, shifting slightly on her horse so she could face Y/N more directly.

The carousel continued its steady rotation, the music softening slightly as the ride began to reach its midpoint. The atmosphere felt oddly intimate, as if the blur of the carnival outside had faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Aeri tilted her head, her gaze steady and curious. “You know, you’re different from what I expected.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

“Just… different.” Aeri shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. “Most people I meet are either trying too hard or not trying at all. But you? You’re just… you. It’s refreshing.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the carousel’s ornate decorations. “That’s a weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“It’s not weird,” Aeri said, her tone softer now. “It’s honest.”

The words hung between them, heavier than Y/N expected. She risked a glance at Aeri, and the look in her eyes made Y/N’s stomach flip. There was something unspoken there, something that made her heart race and her palms sweat.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri leaned closer, her smile turning playful but her eyes still serious. “Because I’m wondering when you’re going to admit you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her mind racing for a response. “I—what?”

“You heard me.” Aeri’s smile widened, but there was a tenderness to it now, a vulnerability that Y/N hadn’t seen before. “You’ve been smiling all night, even when we were completely lost. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because Aeri was right—she had been smiling. Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unexpectedness of it all, she’d been happier tonight than she had in a long time.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely audible over the carousel music. “Maybe I’m enjoying myself. A little.”

Aeri laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The ride began to slow, the horses descending to their starting positions. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment, wishing they had just a little more time.

As the carousel came to a stop, Aeri slid off her horse with an easy grace, extending a hand to help Y/N down. Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking it, her heart skipping a beat at the warmth of Aeri’s touch.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” Aeri replied, her smile soft but unreadable.

They stepped off the ride together, the vibrant chaos of the carnival rushing back in around them. But for Y/N, it felt like the world had shifted somehow, as if the carousel ride had marked the beginning of something she didn’t quite understand yet.

“So,” Aeri said, her tone lighter now, “what’s next? Another ride? More cotton candy?”

Y/N laughed, her nervousness fading into the background. “How about you let me decide for once?”

“Deal.” Aeri’s grin was teasing but genuine, her eyes sparkling under the carnival lights.

As they walked away from the carousel, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at it, the lights and music fading into the distance. She didn’t know what was happening between her and Aeri, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.

The grassy hill just outside the carnival buzzed with quiet anticipation, families and couples sprawled on blankets as they waited for the fireworks to begin. Aeri and Y/N found a spot near the edge, slightly away from the crowd. The night air was cool, the faint hum of the carnival rides drifting up the hill along with bursts of laughter and chatter.

“This is a good spot,” Y/N said, plopping onto the grass and leaning back on her hands.

Aeri sat down beside her, crossing her legs and glancing around. “Not bad. Though I’m starting to think you dragged me up here to escape.”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe I did. You’ve been hogging all the decision-making tonight.”

“Only because I’m better at it,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder playfully.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. The sky above them was a deep navy, stars faintly visible against the encroaching haze of carnival lights. A cool breeze rustled the grass, carrying the faint scent of popcorn and cotton candy.

“You ever watch fireworks like this before?” Y/N asked, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

Aeri leaned back as well, resting her weight on her hands. “Not in a while. The last time was probably when I was a kid. You?”

“Same.” Y/N’s voice softened. “It was at a fair like this one. My parents took me, and we watched the fireworks from the top of a Ferris wheel. It felt… magical, I guess.”

Aeri turned her head slightly to study Y/N’s profile. “You still believe in magic like that?”

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I don’t know. I think I want to.”

Before Aeri could reply, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by an explosion of light. The first firework bloomed in the sky, a brilliant burst of gold that faded into glittering sparks.

Y/N gasped softly, her eyes widening. “Wow.”

Aeri smiled, her attention split between the fireworks and Y/N’s reaction. “Yeah. Wow.”

The fireworks came in a steady rhythm, painting the sky with vibrant reds, blues, and greens. The hill fell into a hushed awe, save for the occasional murmur of children pointing out their favorite bursts.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to Aeri, who was completely engrossed in the display. The colors reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, Y/N forgot to breathe.

Aeri must have sensed the stare because she turned, catching Y/N mid-thought. “What?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks. She looked back at the sky, silently cursing herself.

Aeri’s lips curved into a small smile, but she didn’t press. Instead, she shifted slightly closer, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Aeri’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

“Sure,” Y/N said, stealing a glance at her.

“Do you believe in fate?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Fate?”

“Yeah.” Aeri’s gaze dropped to the grass in front of her, her fingers idly plucking at a blade. “Like… things happening for a reason. People meeting because they’re supposed to.”

Y/N considered it, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it like that. Why?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability. “I don’t know. Just feels like... tonight, for example. We were both lost, looking for someone, and somehow ended up spending the whole night together.” She glanced up, her eyes searching Y/N’s. “Doesn’t that feel a little... serendipitous?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to reply, but another firework exploded, casting a brilliant pink hue over the hill.

“I guess it does,” Y/N admitted finally, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fireworks. “But maybe it’s just coincidence.”

Aeri tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something more.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush again, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the fireworks. But even as she tried to dismiss Aeri’s words, the weight of them lingered.

Another burst of light lit up the sky, and Aeri turned her attention back to the display. “It’s okay if you don’t believe in it,” she said after a moment, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “I just think… sometimes, things happen that we can’t explain. And maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing. She wanted to brush off Aeri’s words, to chalk it up to the magic of the carnival and the moment. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about tonight. About Aeri.

As the finale began, the fireworks bursting in rapid succession, Aeri leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad I bumped into you tonight, Y/N.”

Y/N turned to her, their faces inches apart. The world seemed to fade away, the vibrant chaos of the fireworks dimming in the background.

“Me too,” Y/N said softly, her chest tightening as she held Aeri’s gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both looked back at the sky, the moment suspended between them like a delicate thread.

The fireworks ended in a brilliant crescendo, the hill erupting into applause. But Y/N barely heard it, her thoughts consumed by the woman sitting beside her and the strange, wonderful feeling blooming in her chest.

As the crowd began to disperse, Aeri stood, brushing off her jeans. “Come on. Let’s see what else this carnival has to offer.”

Y/N followed, her heart still racing as she fell into step beside Aeri. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

The carnival’s food court was alive with the sounds of sizzling grills, laughter, and the occasional shout from a vendor advertising their fried delights. The air was thick with the smell of roasted corn, sweet churros, and salty pretzels.

Y/N balanced a tray of food in her hands as she weaved through the maze of picnic tables. She spotted Aeri sitting at a corner table, her chin resting on her palm as she lazily scrolled through her phone.

“Alright, feast time,” Y/N declared, setting the tray down with a grin.

Aeri looked up, her face lighting up at the sight of the food. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost again.”

“Very funny.” Y/N plopped down across from her, grabbing a churro. “I was just making sure we had enough options. You’re welcome.”

Aeri surveyed the tray: a mountain of nachos, two corn dogs, a funnel cake, and a pile of churros. “Did you order the whole menu?”

“Hey, you don’t survive carnival nights on an empty stomach.” Y/N bit into her churro, powdered sugar dusting her lips. “Besides, it’s all part of the experience.”

Aeri laughed, grabbing a corn dog. “I’m not complaining.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the hum of the food court and the distant sounds of carnival rides filling the space between them.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the quiet, “do you go to carnivals often? You seem… oddly at home here.”

Aeri smirked. “What, because I’m good at navigating and making decisions?”

“Because you’re good at being bossy,” Y/N shot back playfully.

Aeri chuckled, twirling her corn dog like a microphone. “Well, if you must know, I actually love carnivals. Always have. My family used to go every summer when I was a kid. It was the one time everyone seemed… happy.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Aeri’s tone. “Not a lot of happy times otherwise?”

Aeri shrugged, her eyes dropping to the table. “Not exactly. My parents were always busy, and when they weren’t, they were arguing. But at the carnival, it was different. It was like stepping into another world where nothing else mattered. Just the lights, the rides, the laughter…” She trailed off, her gaze distant.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice soft. “That sounds… bittersweet.”

Aeri nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. But it’s why I still love coming here. It’s like chasing a little piece of that happiness, you know?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She’d spent most of the night teasing Aeri, but this glimpse of vulnerability caught her off guard. “I get it,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it’s nice to escape for a while.”

Aeri looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. “What about you? What’s your story, carnival expert?”

Y/N hesitated, chewing on her lip. “My family wasn’t really the carnival type. But my friends and I used to come every summer when we were kids. It was kind of our tradition. Now that we’re older, it’s harder to get everyone together. That’s why I was so determined to find them tonight.”

“Yet here you are,” Aeri said, smirking. “Stuck with me instead.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not the worst company.”

“High praise,” Aeri teased, but her smile softened. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I bumped into you tonight.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her churro, suddenly very interested in the powdered sugar. “Yeah, me too.”

The conversation lulled as they finished their food, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt easy, like they’d known each other for longer than just a few hours.

As Aeri polished off the last of the nachos, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking to Y/N. “You know, this might be the best carnival I’ve been to in years.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Because of the churros?”

Aeri grinned. “Because of you.”

Y/N froze, her cheeks heating up. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she laughed nervously, reaching for the funnel cake to avoid Aeri’s gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Aeri said, her tone teasing but her eyes warm.

“I’m not shy,” Y/N muttered, tearing off a piece of funnel cake.

“Sure, you’re not.” Aeri’s smirk widened, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Y/N nearly choked on her bite of funnel cake, earning a laugh from Aeri. “Stop teasing me!”

“Can’t help it,” Aeri said, her laugh fading into a soft smile. “You’re fun to be around, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Aeri.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the noise of the food court fading into the background. Y/N felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement, like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite define.

Then, Aeri broke the silence with a grin. “So, what’s next on the carnival adventure?”

Y/N exhaled, grateful for the shift back to lighter territory. “How about we try that ring toss again? I need to redeem myself after you beat me at the dart game.”

“Deal,” Aeri said, standing and grabbing the empty tray. “But don’t cry when I win this time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile as they left the food court.

The haunted house loomed before them, its facade painted with cartoonishly spooky scenes: grinning skeletons, howling ghosts, and jack-o’-lanterns with sinister smirks. The ride’s creaking sound effects played on a loop, interspersed with high-pitched screams that were either part of the attraction or real terror from past riders.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Aeri asked, her tone light but her smirk teasing.

Y/N squared her shoulders, feigning confidence. “Please. A couple of fake cobwebs and rubber spiders? I’ve seen scarier TikToks.”

Aeri laughed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, fearless leader. Lead the way.”

They handed their tickets to the ride operator, who cackled in an over-the-top witchy voice, ushering them into a narrow corridor lit by flickering bulbs. The door creaked shut behind them, plunging them into dim light and eerie silence.

Y/N took a steadying breath. It’s all fake. Totally fake. No reason to freak out.

But as they stepped further into the ride, the air grew colder, and the sound of distant chains rattling made Y/N’s bravado falter. Aeri walked beside her, her hands in her pockets, looking completely unbothered.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Aeri said, glancing at her.

“I’m taking in the, uh, ambiance,” Y/N replied, her voice higher than she intended.

“Right.” Aeri’s smirk was audible.

Suddenly, a figure lunged out from the shadows—a ghoul with glowing red eyes and tattered clothes. Y/N let out a shriek and instinctively grabbed Aeri’s arm, holding on for dear life.

Aeri burst out laughing. “Ambiance, huh?”

“That was cheap!” Y/N protested, still clinging to her. “It jumped out of nowhere!”

“It’s literally its job,” Aeri teased, prying Y/N’s fingers loose only for Y/N to grab onto her other arm instead.

The path twisted and turned through narrow hallways and fake graveyards. Animatronic zombies groaned and reached out, while eerie whispers played from hidden speakers. Every time something jumped out, Y/N yelped and latched onto Aeri, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” Aeri said, her voice lilting with amusement.

“I’m not scared,” Y/N insisted, her grip tightening as a skeleton swung down from the ceiling.

“Of course not,” Aeri said, biting back a laugh. “You’re just... testing my reflexes?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

As they turned a corner, the hallway suddenly filled with fog, and a distorted laugh echoed through the space. A dark figure emerged, holding what looked like a chainsaw.

“Okay, nope,” Y/N said, spinning on her heel, but Aeri caught her by the shoulders.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice calm but laced with humor. “It’s fake, remember?”

Y/N nodded quickly, trying to calm her racing heart. “Right. Totally fake.”

But when the chainsaw revved, Y/N let out another startled cry and practically jumped into Aeri’s arms.

Aeri couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.”

Y/N, face buried in Aeri’s shoulder, groaned. “Stop laughing! This is terrifying!”

“You’re clinging to me like a koala,” Aeri teased, her arms wrapping loosely around Y/N for balance. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to glare at her, though her cheeks were bright red. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Aeri said, her grin softening into something more affectionate. “But seriously, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Y/N blinked at her, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice momentarily distracting her from the spooky surroundings. “You... do?”

“Of course,” Aeri said, giving her a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “Now, let’s get out of here before you faint.”

They navigated the rest of the haunted house, Y/N sticking close to Aeri despite her earlier bravado. By the time they reached the exit, the fresh night air was a welcome relief.

Y/N let out a deep breath. “I survived. Barely.”

“Barely is right,” Aeri said, holding back another laugh.

“Alright, make fun of me all you want,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But I don’t see you volunteering to go back in there.”

“That’s because I already proved how brave I am,” Aeri replied smoothly.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks for... you know, putting up with me in there.”

“Anytime,” Aeri said, her tone light but her eyes warm. “I mean it. I’ve got you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and for a moment, she thought the haunted house had been worth it after all.

The sound of soft, lively music floated through the night air as they wandered past a section of the carnival that seemed quieter, almost tucked away from the main attractions. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed above a modest wooden dance floor, casting a warm, inviting glow over the scene. A small band played upbeat tunes on a raised platform nearby, their cheerful melodies drawing in couples and groups alike.

Y/N paused, taking in the sight of people swaying and spinning to the rhythm, their laughter mingling with the music. “I didn’t realize there was dancing here,” she said, more to herself than to Aeri.

Aeri, standing beside her, followed Y/N’s gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You like dancing?”

Y/N shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I mean... I’m not terrible at it. Why?”

Before Y/N could process what was happening, Aeri extended a hand toward her, an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s find out.”

Y/N blinked, glancing from Aeri’s hand to her face. “Oh, no. I don’t—”

“Come on,” Aeri coaxed, taking a small step closer. “You survived a haunted house. What’s a little dancing?”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Not even a little,” Aeri replied with a grin, reaching out to gently grab Y/N’s hand and tug her toward the dance floor.

The music shifted to a jaunty swing tune, and Aeri’s confidence was almost contagious as she led them into the crowd. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as Aeri started moving, her steps surprisingly fluid and sure.

“You didn’t tell me you could dance,” Y/N said, trying to keep up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Aeri replied, spinning Y/N suddenly, eliciting a surprised yelp that turned into laughter.

The playful energy between them mirrored the upbeat tempo of the music. Y/N felt her earlier nervousness fade as they moved together, Aeri’s effortless charm making it impossible not to have fun.

But then the band transitioned into a slower song, and the dancers around them began to pair off, swaying gently to the more romantic rhythm.

Y/N stepped back instinctively. “We should, um, sit this one out—”

Aeri caught her hand before she could retreat, her expression softening. “Stay.”

Y/N looked up at her, the world around them blurring slightly as the moment stretched. “Aeri, I’m not sure I—”

“Just follow my lead,” Aeri said quietly, her tone soothing.

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri slid one hand to her waist and held her other hand firmly but gently, guiding her into the simple, swaying rhythm of the music.

The sounds of the carnival seemed to fade, leaving only the band’s melody and the warmth of Aeri’s presence. Y/N stumbled once, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I’m not—”

“You’re fine,” Aeri interrupted, her voice steady and reassuring.

They moved in small, easy steps, the space between them narrowing as they grew more comfortable. Y/N found herself looking up at Aeri, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the dancing.

“You’re good at this,” Y/N said softly, her voice almost lost beneath the music.

“I’ve had practice,” Aeri admitted with a small smile. “But it’s different with you.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly. “Different how?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “It feels... easier. Like it’s supposed to be this way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice catching her off guard. She didn’t know how to respond, so she focused instead on the feeling of Aeri’s hand on her waist, the warmth radiating between them, and the way Aeri’s eyes seemed to hold hers with unspoken meaning.

The song wound to a gentle close, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The applause from the other dancers barely registered as Aeri stepped back, her hand lingering in Y/N’s.

“See?” Aeri said, her grin returning. “You’re not terrible at dancing.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing as she rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

Aeri tilted her head, studying Y/N with an expression that was both playful and serious. “You know, if we don’t find your friends tonight, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you a little longer.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the casual way Aeri said it, though her cheeks heated at the implication. She couldn’t find the words to respond, so she just nodded, her fingers still loosely entwined with Aeri’s.

The carnival had started to quiet down as the night stretched on, but the lively hum of the attractions persisted, casting a dreamy atmosphere over the dwindling crowd. Aeri and Y/N wandered along the path, their steps naturally falling into sync. The glow of neon lights reflected in their smiles as they stumbled upon a photo booth tucked near the edge of the fairgrounds.

“Oh, we have to do this,” Aeri declared, her eyes lighting up at the sight.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Really? Isn’t that kind of cliché?”

“Exactly,” Aeri replied, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and tugging her toward the booth. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, we need souvenirs to remember this ridiculous night.”

Y/N chuckled, letting herself be pulled along. “Fine, but if the machine eats our money, I’m blaming you.”

The booth was a charming relic of the past, its paint chipped but the flashing “Photos Here!” sign still inviting. Aeri slipped into the cramped space first, patting the spot next to her. “Come on, let’s make it good.”

Y/N hesitated before squeezing into the booth, her shoulder brushing against Aeri’s in the tight space. The proximity made her pulse quicken, but she tried to play it cool.

Aeri leaned forward to inspect the screen. “Okay, we’ve got four shots. Let’s make them count.”

The countdown began, and they jumped into action:

First shot: They made exaggerated peace signs, their faces scrunched into ridiculous expressions.

Second shot: Aeri crossed her eyes, and Y/N stuck her tongue out, both bursting into laughter right as the camera flashed.

Third shot: Aeri pretended to hold a serious pose, but Y/N nudged her at the last second, catching her mid-laugh.

As the fourth countdown began, Aeri’s laughter faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. She turned slightly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s, the carnival lights outside casting a kaleidoscope of colors across their faces.

“What?” Y/N asked softly, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of carnival noise.

The timer beeped.

And then Aeri leaned in.

Her lips found Y/N’s in a heartbeat, the kiss igniting like a spark against the night’s cool air. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when Y/N didn’t pull away—when Y/N kissed her back—it deepened into something magnetic.

The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly: two silhouettes lost in each other amidst the chaos of the carnival.

When the camera stopped, they didn’t. The kiss lingered, a tangle of shared breath and unspoken feelings that had been building all night. Y/N’s hand instinctively reached for Aeri’s shoulder, steadying herself as her mind spun.

Finally, they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but words felt useless.

Aeri was the first to speak, her lips curling into a smug but tender smile. “So, still think this is cliché?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushed as her lips curved into a small, dazed smile. “No. Not even close.”

The machine whirred, spitting out the photo strip. Aeri grabbed it, glancing at the frames before holding it up with a victorious grin.

“This one’s definitely going on my wall,” she teased, pointing to the last frame of their kiss.

Y/N snatched it from her hand, laughing despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you haven’t walked away.” Aeri’s voice softened, her confidence taking on a gentler edge. “You’re not going to, are you?”

Y/N looked at her, at the girl who had turned a lost night into something unforgettable. “Not a chance,” she said, her voice steady but warm.

Aeri grinned, her hand slipping into Y/N’s as they stepped out of the booth, the photo strip tucked safely into Y/N’s pocket.

“Good,” Aeri said, pulling Y/N closer as they wandered back into the carnival.

The carnival lights cast a dreamlike glow over the grounds, their vibrant hues reflecting in the puddles left by an earlier drizzle. The crowd had thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated visitors. Y/N and Aeri meandered through the maze of closing booths and dimming rides, their search for their friends feeling more like an excuse to linger together than an actual goal.

“They’re probably halfway home by now,” Y/N said with a sigh, though her tone lacked conviction.

“No way,” Aeri replied confidently. “My friends wouldn’t leave without me. They’d want to see how I embarrassed myself first.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her hand through her hair. “What makes you think you embarrassed yourself?”

“Oh, please. I’m soaking wet from the log flume, lost a cotton candy eating contest, and I was thoroughly humiliated at the dart game. I’m a walking disaster tonight.”

Y/N glanced at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You were also great company.”

Aeri looked at her, the carnival lights catching in her eyes. “So were you.”

Before Y/N could respond, a shout interrupted the moment.

“Y/N!”

Y/N turned toward the voice, spotting a group of familiar figures running toward them. Minji led the pack, her long coat flapping behind her, followed by Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein.

“Oh my god, you’re okay!” Danielle said, relief clear in her voice as she reached Y/N first and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Minji said, her hands on her hips, a mix of worry and exasperation on her face. “What happened?”

Before Y/N could explain, another voice cut through the air.

“Aeri!”

From the opposite direction, Aeri’s friends appeared, making a beeline toward her. Jimin led the charge, followed by Minjeong, who still carried her oversized stuffed bear, and Yizhuo, holding what seemed to be her fifteenth snack of the night.

“There you are,” Jimin said, her tone more teasing than scolding. “We thought you’d gone AWOL.”

“I told you she was fine,” Minjeong said, adjusting the stuffed bear. “She always lands on her feet.”

“Or on someone else’s,” Yizhuo added with a smirk, her gaze flicking to Y/N.

Suddenly, the two groups collided, their respective members eyeing one another with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Who’s this?” Minji asked, her gaze sharp as she looked Aeri up and down.

“Y/N’s new friend, apparently,” Hanni said, raising an eyebrow.

“And who are they?” Jimin asked, gesturing to Y/N’s friends with a curious tilt of her head.

“They’re my friends,” Y/N said quickly, stepping between the two groups before things could get awkward. “And, uh, this is Aeri. We...kind of got lost together.”

“Lost?” Minji repeated, her eyes narrowing.

“Together?” Minjeong echoed, her smirk growing.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Y/N protested, her cheeks flushing.

“Oh, I’m definitely looking,” Hanni said, folding her arms as she glanced between Y/N and Aeri.

“Relax,” Aeri said, stepping closer to Y/N. “She’s been keeping me company all night. Actually, she’s the only reason I didn’t spend the last five hours wandering in circles.”

“That’s...weirdly sweet,” Haerin muttered, her quiet observation drawing laughter from both groups.

Yizhuo nudged Aeri with her elbow. “What she’s trying to say is she had fun. A lot of fun.”

“I could’ve said that myself,” Aeri muttered, shooting Yizhuo a glare.

“Oh, you totally could’ve,” Yizhuo replied innocently, “but we’d still be waiting.”

Hyein looked at Y/N with a mischievous grin. “So, Y/N, is this carnival your new favorite place now?”

Y/N groaned. “Not you too!”

The teasing continued, laughter and banter flying between both groups. Despite the chaos, there was an undeniable warmth in the air, a sense of shared understanding that left Y/N feeling unexpectedly grateful for the interruption.

Eventually, Jimin clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, it’s late, and I, for one, am ready to go home. But before we do...” She turned to Y/N, a knowing glint in her eye. “You’re welcome to join us next time.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the invitation. “Next time?”

Aeri smirked, her confidence returning in full force. “Of course. Same time, same place, next weekend?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, her smile growing. “Next weekend.”

As their friends began to scatter, Aeri leaned in close, her voice dropping so only Y/N could hear. “I meant what I said earlier. You made this night a lot better.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she managed to reply, “So did you.”

Aeri pulled back, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

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