#i made them a mix of book and movie

[sleazyjanet]

masters peregrin and meriadoc, at your service

[itsalwaysdark]

having a midlife crisis atm i think i might start reading [redacted] this is rly scary for me keep me in your thoughts

[moonlightwritingf1]

First Time | LN4

❤︎ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds out Y/N is a virgin.

❤︎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❤︎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.3k

❤︎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f receiving)

Based on this request.

Friday night settled over London with a quiet hush, the city lights flickering in the distance and the occasional sound of cars passing below Y/n’s apartment building. Although the night was still and cool, a charged warmth filled the cozy living room. She sat on the edge of her couch, legs tucked beneath her, trying to focus on the movie playing on the TV screen. But it was impossible. Not when Lando Norris was sitting just inches away from her, his presence like a magnet pulling at every nerve in her body.

It had been two months since they’d officially started dating, and yet, the tension between them still crackled like a live wire. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh—it all felt charged with something unspoken. Something waiting to burst free.

Lando leaned back into the cushions, one arm casually draped behind her. His fingers traced lazy patterns along the fabric of the couch, dangerously close to brushing against her shoulder. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. It made her stomach twist in the best possible way.

Lando studied Y/N’s features in silence, his gaze lingering as if he were trying to decipher a puzzle. He noticed the subtle tension around her eyes, the delicate way her lashes fluttered as she blinked, and the gentle parting of her lips with each soft breath. The slight flush on her cheeks hinted at something more—nerves, maybe, or a thought she wasn’t sharing.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, as if afraid to break whatever spell she seemed to be under. “You doing okay? You seem a little distracted.” 

Y/n swallowed. “I’m fine,” she replied quickly. She noticed her own voice sounded defensive. “Just… I was thinking about work. It was a long week.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Meetings, calls, deadlines… not as glamorous as I used to think a normal nine-to-five would be.” A teasing spark lit his eyes. “At least you’re off the clock now,” he added, his lips curving into a soft smile.

Y/n found herself smiling despite her nerves. There was something about his tone—soft and playful at once—that disarmed her. This was why she had let him in, despite all her reservations. His earnestness, the puppy-like devotion in his gaze. He was so unlike the rumors—so unlike how she once imagined him to be.

She stood up abruptly, the need to put a little distance between them overwhelming her for a moment. “Want some tea? I can put the kettle on,” she offered, forcing herself to sound casual.

A small frown tugged at Lando’s brows, but he quickly covered it with a smile. “Sure, I’d love some.”

While she busied herself in the kitchen, Lando took a moment to look around her apartment. It was modest—comfortable and intimate, with personal touches here and there: books carefully arranged on a shelf, a photograph of her parents near the TV, soft throw blankets on the sofa. He couldn’t help picturing how often she might curl up under those blankets, reading a novel after a long day. He yearned to be there during those quiet moments, to share them with her, to make her life a little less lonely.

The clink of the kettle switching off caught his attention. Y/n returned shortly, two mugs of steaming tea in hand. She handed one to him and then sat back down on the couch, leaving only a cushion’s width of space between them. The delicate scent of chamomile filled the air.

“Thank you,” he murmured, taking a slow sip. “You’re too good to me.”

“Trust me,” she said with a small laugh, “I’m not. You just make it so easy to want to do something for you, seeing as you’re always doing things for me.”

Y/n’s mind wandered briefly to the memory of him sending her all those gifts—flowers, perfumes, expensive clothes that made her squeak in shock when she saw the price tags. She had been torn between excitement and embarrassment, but also a bit of suspicion. There was this question that kept haunting her: Could Lando be serious? She needed more than sweet gestures and pretty words. She needed true depth, true commitment. And if he wasn’t that kind of man, she’d rather know now than be hurt later.

Lando watched her expression shift, as if lost in thought. Ever perceptive, he set his mug down. “Y/n,” he said, voice quieter this time, “I can see it in your eyes that something’s bothering you. Is it us… or something else?”

She offered him a tentative smile. “I’m just… still adjusting to us, I think. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

He couldn’t hide the relief that seemed to soften his features. “I understand,” he said, reaching out and gingerly placing a hand on her knee. “I know I might come on strong, but you have to believe me—I’m in this. No matter what.”

She placed her hand over his. His words chipped away at some of her armor, and she felt a stirring of warmth that had little to do with the tea. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting her thumb brush over his knuckles.

Time felt suspended. The city noises outside turned into nothing but a faint backdrop. In the hush of her living room, the only sounds were their breath, their quiet laughter, and the hum of electricity in the background.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to lighter topics: a fun memory from Lando’s last race weekend in Europe, a comedic mishap at Y/n’s office that had everyone trying to fix a computer glitch that turned out to be user error. The atmosphere grew playful again, but a current of tension remained, rolling through the space between them like a gathering storm.

They inched closer until their shoulders touched. Lando placed a finger beneath her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his. His voice was a whisper in the stillness. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Y/n’s lips parted, a bashful chuckle escaping her. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he murmured, leaning in, close enough to brush her ear with his breath, “I’m not.”

And then he kissed her. Gentle at first, almost reverent, as if he were savoring the feel of her lips. She responded softly, her heart fluttering. The warmth of his mouth against hers turned every cell in her body alive.

His hands drifted from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer so that no space remained between them. She could feel his heartbeat thrumming against her own. Every time their lips parted, he whispered her name, as though it were a plea and a prayer all at once.

The kiss deepened. His hand went up, tangling in her hair, and a soft moan she couldn’t restrain slipped from her lips. Sensations flooded her: his warmth, his scent—a mix of clean soap and the faintest cologne—his unwavering focus on her and only her.

It wasn’t long before the passion of their kisses caused them both to shift. Lando’s palm skated gently over her waist and up toward her ribs. His lips traveled along her jawline, down her neck, tasting the soft skin there. She clutched at the fabric of his hoodie, eyelids fluttering shut.

The moment felt too perfect, too intense. A fierce desire blossomed in her chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She could feel Lando’s heart racing, or maybe it was her own.

His mouth found hers again, deeper, hungrier this time. When she felt his right hand cup her breast over her sweater, an unexpected jolt of panic mingled with excitement. The swirl of emotions—desire, fear, anticipation—was suddenly overwhelming.

She let out a quiet gasp and quickly placed her hand over his, stopping him in the motion. It wasn’t intentional, the way her body stiffened, the way her breath caught in her throat. Instantly, Lando pulled back, eyes wide and full of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and rough from the heat of the moment. “Did…did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, her cheeks burning, unsure how to explain. She felt her entire face glow with a complex mix of longing and worry. “Lando…” she began, biting her lower lip. She slid her hand into his for a moment, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t rejecting him, but the intensity. “I just…maybe we’re moving too fast right now.”

He nodded, pulling away a little more to give her space. “It’s okay,” he whispered, gently brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “We can slow down, I promise. I don’t ever want you to feel rushed.”

She looked down, her hands twisting in her lap. A fresh wave of nerves welled up in her chest—but this time it wasn’t just about caution, it was about her own decision, a burgeoning sense that maybe she was ready to take this leap with him. She’d been holding onto her secret for so long that it almost felt easier to keep the status quo. Yet tonight, something had shifted inside her. She had been convincing herself that her wariness was purely about trust, about not wanting to rush. But if she was honest with herself—truly honest—she wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone.

“There’s… actually something else,” she said in a voice so soft he had to lean in to hear her.

His eyes filled with anxiety. “Talk to me, love. Please.”

She swallowed. “I’m…still a virgin.”

For a moment, the air left the room. Lando stared at her, silently processing, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his face. He exhaled slowly, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re…a virgin?” he repeated quietly, the disbelief evident in his tone. “Wow, I—I’m sorry,” he quickly added, holding up his hands as though in surrender. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just… I’m surprised.”

She nodded stiffly, her gaze fixed on the space between their knees. “I know we’re the same age. I know how it sounds. You probably had…way more experiences than I ever have.” She tensed, voicing the insecurity that had haunted her for months. “I just, I never met someone I trusted enough. Or maybe I was too busy convincing myself I didn’t need it… didn’t need them.”

Lando, still coming to grips with her revelation, took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “Hey,” he said softly, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. And what she saw wasn’t judgment or disinterest—it was gentleness, acceptance… and maybe even awe.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.” He lifted his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “And please don’t feel embarrassed about it.”

She let out a shaky breath, tears threatening to form. “I thought you’d think it’s weird,” she confessed. “You’re so… experienced. You’ve had so many women and—”

“Let’s not talk about them,” he interrupted gently. A slight sadness flickered across his face, as though all the old choices he’d made suddenly seemed trivial or even shameful. “They don’t matter. You do.” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “And I don’t want you to feel any pressure from me.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “Lando, this is… important. But I—” She paused, feeling that swirl of fear in her stomach again. It was now or never. “I think… I’m ready. To be with you,” she admitted, voice barely audible. It was the first time she had truly spoken the words aloud. The admission sent a flush of heat through her entire body.

His eyes widened at her confession. “You’re… ready?” he echoed, as if carefully testing the meaning of those words. Hesitation and tenderness mingled in his expression. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want you to do this if you’re not one hundred percent.”

She swallowed, nodding. “I’m sure,” she whispered. A small laugh escaped her, colored by nervousness. “I can’t believe I just said that. But… yes. I—I want this, with you.”

Relief, joy, and something deeper flooded Lando’s features. He reached for her hands again, clasping them between his own. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, though the excitement in his voice was clear. “Just because you’re ready doesn’t mean—”

“It’s my choice,” she interjected softly. “I trust you. And it’s taken me a while to let myself feel this way, but… the truth is, I’m tired of being scared. Of holding onto my hang-ups. I want to share this with you.”

Lando exhaled, a million emotions running across his face—gratitude, longing, protectiveness. “Y/n,” he said, voice thick. “I promise I’ll be gentle. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

She offered him a trembling smile. “I know you will.”

He stood then, carefully pulling her to her feet. They stood close, the fabric of their clothes brushing against each other. Lando dipped his head so that his eyes were level with hers. He could see the mix of courage and trepidation in her gaze.

“Do you want to move to your room?” he asked, the question laced with quiet anticipation.

She nodded, sliding her hand into his. They walked slowly toward the short hallway that led to her bedroom. Every step brought a new spike of adrenaline and longing. The overhead lights were off, leaving only the faint glow from a small lamp on her bedside table. The walls were painted in calming, muted colors—soft grays and blues. The bed itself was made neatly, a plush duvet folded at the end.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. A whirlwind of thoughts chased each other through her mind: He’s here, he wants me, I want him, I’m ready, no turning back… Yet overshadowing all of it was a sense of quiet determination. She had chosen him. After all the months of hesitation, she was certain.

When they reached the bedside, she paused, turning to face Lando. The uncertainty still flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t come from doubt in him—rather, it came from the enormity of the moment. Her first time. Something she had guarded for so long.

He noticed. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go slow,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin.

She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Slow,” she repeated, as if the word itself were a grounding tether.

Carefully, they leaned in for another kiss. This one was warm and tentative, a promise rather than an urgent demand. Lando’s hands drifted to her waist, and Y/n reciprocated, sliding her arms around his neck. The heat between them was more controlled now, more intentional, and yet somehow even more intense. She felt safe—reassured by the unspoken vow in every gentle touch.

After a while, their kisses grew deeper, more confident. He guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the bed. They sank down together, lips never losing contact. Soft gasps and hushed whispers began weaving an intimate tapestry of sound around them. Even the hum of passing cars seemed distant, as though the outside world had fallen away and left them in a private universe.

The warmth of their kisses lingered, slow and deliberate, as Lando hovered above her on the bed. His lips moved from her mouth to her jawline, trailing soft, featherlight kisses down the column of her neck. Every touch was a promise, every sigh a silent reassurance. Y/n’s breath hitched when his tongue flicked against her pulse point, sending shivers cascading down her spine. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, her fingers trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His lips continued their journey downward, skimming over her collarbone before settling at the hollow of her throat. He paused for a moment, his breath warm against her flushed skin, and then gently tugged at the hem of her sweater.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, dark with arousal but still filled with tenderness.

She nodded, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s hands slid beneath the fabric, his fingertips brushing against her waist as he slowly lifted the sweater over her head. The cool air kissed her skin, and she shivered—not from the temperature, but from the way he looked at her. His gaze was reverent, almost worshipful, as he took in the sight of her bare torso. His eyes lingered on the curve of her breasts, encased in delicate lace, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, his hands already moving to cup her through her bra. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, drawing a sharp gasp from her. She arched into his touch, her body betraying how much she craved him.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the slope of her breast, just above the edge of the lace. His kisses were slow and exploratory, each one sending jolts of pleasure radiating through her. When his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra, she reached behind her to help him, her hands shaking slightly. The bra fell away, and his breath caught as he took her in completely.

“Y/n…” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. “You’re stunning.”

His hands caressed her breasts, his palms sliding over the soft flesh before his mouth followed. He captured one nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak while his hand teased the other. Y/n gasped, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Her moans spilled freely now, no longer restrained, and each one seemed to spur him on. 

“L-Lando,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulders. “That feels… so good.”

He responded by sinking his teeth gently into her nipple, eliciting a sharp cry from her. His hands squeezed her breasts together, his lips moving back and forth between them, leaving her a trembling, moaning mess beneath him. He worshipped her like this, his touch and his words making her feel cherished, adored.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Please what, love?” he teased, his fingers pinching her nipples lightly, making her gasp again.

She shook her head, unable to form the words. He laughed softly, kissing her lips briefly before sitting back on his heels. His hands drifted to the waistband of her leggings, his thumbs hooking under the elastic. “Can I take these off too?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with anticipation.

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. But… take your top off too.”

His grin was irresistible as he tugged his hoodie over his head, revealing the toned planes of his chest. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He was breathtakingly handsome, his muscles defined but not overly bulky, his skin smooth and warm.

He returned to her, his hands sliding her leggings down her legs slowly, peeling the fabric away inch by inch. She lifted her hips to help him, her heart pounding as she lay before him in nothing but her underwear. His gaze lingered on her, heat and adoration burning in his eyes.

“God, you’re stunning,” he said, his voice rough with want. He knelt between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs. “Are you sure about this? We can stop anytime.”

She nodded, her voice steadier than she expected. “I’m sure.”

Lando leaned down, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands gripping the sheets as his lips traveled higher, closer to the apex of her thighs. He nuzzled the thin fabric of her underwear, his breath hot against her already soaked core.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. He kissed her through the fabric, dragging his tongue over her clit in a slow, teasing motion. She cried out, her hips lifting instinctively toward him.

“Lando!” she gasped, her thighs trembling as he continued to tease her, his lips and tongue driving her wild. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

“Patience, baby,” he purred, his hands sliding her underwear down her legs. He tossed them aside, settling back between her thighs. For a moment, he just looked at her, his expression reverent. “Fuck, Y/N. You have such a pretty pussy.”

Her face burned, but before she could say anything, his tongue was on her, lapping at her folds with long, slow strokes. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

Lando devoured her like a man starved, his tongue circling her clit, dipping inside her, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from her body. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her hands fisting the sheets as she writhed beneath him.

“Oh my God, Lando,” she whimpered, her thighs shaking. “That feels so good…”

He groaned against her, the vibrations making her cry out. He slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right against her walls as his tongue continued its relentless assault. She swore she saw stars, her entire body tensing as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her. Just when she thought she might scream, he pulled back, his lips glistening and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you really want this?” he asked, his voice ragged. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

She nodded, her eyes glazed with need. “Yes, I’m ready. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he reached for the waistband of his trousers. In one swift motion, he stripped them off, along with his boxers, leaving himself completely bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in—hard and flushed, his length straining toward her.

He settled between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell me if it hurts.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. “Okay,” she whispered.

He pressed forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable—and mixed with the pain was an overwhelming sense of closeness, of being connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“You’re incredible,” he breathed, staying still to give her time. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” she admitted with a shaky laugh. “But… good. Really good.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “You’re doing so well, love,” he murmured against her lips. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Lando began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts. Each glide of his length inside her was met with a soft gasp from Y/n, her body still adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness. He kept his pace gentle, rhythmic, almost teasing, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment with her. His eyes never left hers, searching for any sign of discomfort—but all he found was desire, trust, and a growing need.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “So fucking perfect.”

She whimpered in response, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, where she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Her own heart raced in tandem, her breath coming in shallow bursts as arousal coiled tighter and tighter in her core. She arched instinctively, her hips rising to meet his next thrust, and Lando groaned low in his throat at the sensation.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “It’s… it’s so much.”

He paused, concern flickering across his face. “Too much?” he asked, his tone laced with worry. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head quickly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “No… no, don’t stop. It’s just… overwhelming. In a good way.” Her fingers traced the muscles of his chest, marveling at the way they flexed with every movement. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

The relief in his expression was palpable. He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips slow and sweet, before whispering against her mouth, “Then let me show you how good it can be.”

His thrusts grew slightly firmer, the rhythm steady but unhurried. Y/n’s moans grew louder, each one sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Lando’s cock. He ground into her deeper with every push, angling his hips so that he brushed against a spot inside her that made her gasp and clutch at him desperately.

“There…” she whimpered, her nails lightly scratching his back. “Right there, Lando… please…”

A groan rumbled in his chest as he obeyed, focusing on that spot with relentless precision. Her reactions were intoxicating—every sigh, every shiver, every desperate plea only fueled his own need. But he refused to rush, determined to make this first time unforgettable for her.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes dark with adoration. “Watching you like this… hearing you… it’s driving me insane.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his gaze with equal intensity, her eyes clouded with passion and something deeper—something that made his chest ache with emotion.

“Touch me,” she begged softly, her hand sliding down to guide his. “Please…”

Without hesitation, Lando reached between them, his fingers finding her swollen clit with practiced ease. He circled the sensitive nub gently, watching as her entire body jerked in response. Her moans turned into breathless cries, her hips rocking against his hand and his cock in a frenzied rhythm.

“Fuck, Lando—oh god—” she gasped, her back arching off the bed. “I’m… I’m close…”

“Let go, love,” he urged, his voice thick with passion. “Come for me.”

The combination of his hand and his cock pushed her over the edge. She cried out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her, her inner walls clamping down around him in a vice-like grip. Lando groaned loudly, his thrusts faltering as her climax overwhelmed him. He clenched his jaw, fighting to hold on just a little longer—to give her every last drop of pleasure she deserved.

When her tremors finally subsided, she looked up at him with dazed, unfocused eyes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. She was utterly breathtaking.

Still buried deep inside her, Lando kissed her again, his lips tender and reverent. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Absolutely fucking incredible.”

Y/n smiled shyly, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Not yet…”

He nodded, his own arousal still burning hot and urgent, but tempered now by the reverence he felt for her. He resumed his slow, deep thrusts, each one deliberate, each one meant to draw out every ounce of pleasure she could take. Her soft moans filled the room, a melody that made his chest ache with something deeper than desire—something tender, something sacred.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with adoration. His hands cradled her hips as though she were fragile, precious. “Anything, love… just tell me.”

Her fingers brushed through his hair, her touch featherlight yet electric. “You,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Just you.”

Those two words shattered him. Not in the way of losing control, but in the way of surrender—to her, to this moment, to the depth of what they were sharing. He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. His pace quickened, not out of urgency, but out of a need to give her everything he had, to make her feel how much she meant to him.

Her body arched beneath him, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Her hands roamed over his back, not clawing, but caressing, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of him. She clung to him, not out of desperation, but out of a need to be as close as possible, to erase any space between them.

“Y/n…” His voice was strained, but it wasn’t just from the physical strain. It was from the weight of what he felt for her, the intensity of it threatening to spill over. “I’m not gonna last much longer…”

She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure began to crest. “Neither—“ she managed, her voice breaking. “Oh god, Lando—“

He felt her tighten around him again, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cry was raw, unfiltered, and it echoed through the room, a sound that would forever be etched into his memory. Her nails dug into his skin, not to hurt, but to anchor herself as she rode out the blissful aftershocks.

That was all it took for him. With a final, shuddering thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his release tearing through him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his ragged breaths hot against her skin as he whispered her name over and over, like a prayer, like a vow.

For several long moments, neither of them moved. Their bodies remained tangled together, sweat-slicked and spent, but closer than they’d ever been. Gradually, the haze of pleasure began to fade, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction and an overwhelming sense of closeness that went beyond the physical.

Lando was the first to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before pulling back to look at her. His heart swelled at the sight of her—flushed, disheveled, and utterly spent, but smiling up at him with such tenderness that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice husky but filled with genuine concern. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her skin.

She laughed quietly, the sound warm and content. Her fingers trailed along his jawline, tracing the curve of his face as though committing it to memory. “Like I just discovered heaven,” she admitted, her smile widening. “And you?”

He grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes held hers, dark and full of emotion. “Like the luckiest man alive,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity. “Because I get to call you mine.”

Her smile softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch achingly gentle. “You already had me,” she whispered. “Long before tonight.”

His throat tightened, and he kissed her again, slower this time, pouring every unspoken word into it. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the room.

“I love you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. They weren’t planned, but they were true—so true it hurt.

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes wide and searching. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. “I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the tears pooling in her eyes.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as though he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with her head resting on his chest and her heartbeat echoing his own, he knew—this was where he belonged. With her. Always.

[xo100]

A summer to remember - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando, Y/N, and their daughter Isla enjoy a perfect summer vacation filled with love, beach fun, and yacht adventures.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2388

୨ৎ

It was a beautiful summer morning, and the sun was already casting its golden glow over the peaceful coastline. The soft sound of waves lapping against the shore could be heard through the open windows of the cozy villa where Lando Norris, his wife, and their one-year-old daughter, Isla, were spending their vacation. It was a much-needed break from Lando's hectic Formula 1 schedule, and he was determined to make the most of every second with his little family.

Inside the villa, the sweet scent of fresh pastries filled the air as Y/N was busy in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the three of them. Isla was sitting in her highchair, her big, curious eyes watching her mom move around, while her tiny hands held onto a small stuffed bear that she never seemed to let go of. Lando, fresh from a shower, entered the kitchen with a content smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his two favorite girls.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, stepping up behind Y/N and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re up early. Didn’t think we’d need to be up so soon on holiday.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back into him as she flipped a pancake. “Well, someone woke up hungry,” she said, glancing over at Isla, who was babbling happily to her bear. “Besides, it’s too beautiful outside to waste the day.”

Lando hummed in agreement, his chin resting on Y/N's shoulder as he watched her cook. “You’re right. What’s the plan today, then? What amazing adventure are we going on?”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought we could start with a beach day. Just us, some sand, and the ocean. Maybe build a sandcastle with Isla. She’s been dying to get her hands in the sand.”

Lando grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. He loved the thought of spending the day on the beach with his family, especially if it meant seeing Isla’s face light up with excitement. “That sounds perfect,” he said, stealing a quick kiss before letting her go. “But I think we should add something extra later. How about a yacht ride this afternoon? I’ve already got one booked for us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “A yacht? Seriously, Lando?”

“Of course,” he replied with a cocky smile, giving her a playful wink. “Figured we’d sail off into the sunset like in the movies. You know, champagne in hand, wind in our hair… or at least, your hair. Isla and I don’t have much of that,” he teased, running a hand through his slightly damp hair for emphasis.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re too much sometimes, Norris.”

Lando winked. “And you love it.”

Isla, hearing her dad’s voice, squealed excitedly, her little arms reaching out towards him. Lando’s expression softened instantly as he scooped her up from the highchair and spun her around, her giggles filling the kitchen. “There’s my girl!” he said, holding her close and pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “Ready for a fun day with Mum and Dad?”

Isla giggled in response, her tiny hand grabbing onto Lando’s shirt, holding on as if she never wanted to let go. Lando’s heart melted, as it did every time he looked at his daughter. She was the perfect mix of both him and Y/N—her sparkling eyes and infectious laughter were all her mother, while the little dimple in her cheek and the mischievous glint in her eye were pure Lando.

-

After breakfast, the three of them headed down to the beach, which was only a short walk from the villa. The sand was warm beneath their feet, and the ocean stretched out in front of them, glittering under the morning sun. It was the kind of picture-perfect day that made it hard to believe anything else existed beyond this little slice of paradise.

Lando carried Isla on his hip, holding her tiny hand as she stared wide-eyed at the ocean for the first time. Her mouth formed a little "o" of wonder as the gentle breeze tousled her soft hair. “Look at that, Isla,” Lando said, pointing towards the waves. “Isn’t it beautiful? Just like your mum.”

Y/N, who had been spreading out a blanket, glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Lando’s words. “Flatterer,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. No matter how long they’d been together, Lando always knew how to make her heart skip a beat.

Once everything was set up, Y/N and Lando took turns playing with Isla in the sand, helping her dig little holes and attempting to build a sandcastle that mostly ended up in a pile of mush, thanks to Isla’s enthusiastic hands. Lando pretended to be frustrated as Isla gleefully knocked over the little towers he was trying to make. “Isla, love, I’m trying to build a masterpiece here,” he said in mock seriousness, though his grin gave him away.

Isla just giggled, grabbing another handful of sand and letting it slip through her tiny fingers. Y/N watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. There was something so pure and beautiful about the way Lando interacted with their daughter. He was playful, patient, and so incredibly gentle with her, like she was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she was. Both of them were.

-

After a few hours of playing in the sand and dipping their toes in the water, it was time for Isla’s nap. Y/N and Lando packed up their things and headed back to the villa, where Isla quickly fell asleep in her crib, her little face peaceful and content.

With their daughter sound asleep, Y/N and Lando had a rare moment of quiet together. They sat out on the terrace, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. Lando stretched out on the lounge chair next to her, his hand lazily tracing circles on her leg. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice low and relaxed. “Just the two of us for a bit.”

Y/N smiled softly, leaning back in her chair as she gazed out at the ocean. “It is,” she agreed. “It’s nice to just… be. No distractions, no schedules. Just us.”

Lando turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with that familiar mix of love and admiration that always made her stomach flutter. “You know,” he said quietly, his fingers gently brushing her skin, “I don’t think I tell you enough how much I love you. How much I appreciate everything you do for Isla and me.”

Y/N’s breath caught slightly at the sincerity in his voice. She turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart swelling with emotion. “Lando…”

“No, really,” he insisted, sitting up a little. “I don’t say it enough. You’re incredible, Y/N. The way you love our daughter, the way you take care of us… You make everything feel so effortless, and I just—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, smiling softly at him. “I love you too, Lando. More than you know.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that made her forget about everything else. In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, the world fading away.

-

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Lando, Y/N, and Isla boarded the yacht that Lando had arranged. It was a sleek, beautiful boat, and as they set off into the open water, the breeze ruffling their hair, it felt like something out of a dream.

Isla was fascinated by the gentle rocking of the boat, her little hands gripping the edge of the railing as she watched the water with wide eyes. Lando stood behind her, his hands on either side of hers, keeping her steady while whispering little words of encouragement. “Look at that, baby girl. Isn’t it amazing? Just like flying, huh?”

Y/N watched them from her seat, her heart swelling with affection for the two of them. There was something so undeniably sweet about seeing Lando with Isla. He was a natural father, always knowing how to make her smile, always there to comfort her when she was upset.

As the yacht sailed further out, Lando eventually scooped Isla up and carried her back to Y/N, sitting down next to her and cuddling Isla between them. The three of them sat together, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon, casting a golden-orange glow over the water.

“This is perfect,” Y/N whispered, resting her head on Lando’s shoulder as she cradled Isla in her arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

Lando smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me either,” he murmured. “This… this is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart swelling at the love in his eyes. “You mean that?”

He looked down at her, his expression serious but filled with so much warmth. “I do. You and Isla… you’re my world, Y/N. Everything I do, it’s for you two. And I’ll never stop loving you, not for a second.”

Her breath caught at his words, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and sweet.

The kiss lingered, sweet and unhurried, the weight of Lando’s words settling between them like the most beautiful promise. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling as the world seemed to pause for just a moment. Isla, nestled between them, was quietly playing with Lando’s fingers, completely content in the embrace of her parents.

“I love you, too,” Y/N whispered, her voice full of emotion. “More than I could ever put into words.”

Lando smiled, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “I know, love,” he murmured. “I feel it every single day.”

They sat there for a long while, the boat gently swaying with the rhythm of the sea, as the last rays of sunlight danced on the horizon. Isla eventually dozed off in Y/N’s arms, her tiny body relaxing completely, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only sound breaking the peaceful silence.

Lando looked down at his daughter, his heart nearly bursting at the sight. He reached out to lightly stroke her hair, his touch so gentle it was almost reverent. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “How did we get so lucky?”

Y/N smiled down at Isla, her heart swelling with love for the little girl in her arms. “We did get lucky,” she agreed softly. “She’s everything.”

Lando’s gaze shifted from Isla to Y/N, his expression softening even further. “You’re everything to me, you know that, right?”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I think you’ve told me that about a hundred times today.”

“Well, I mean it. Every time,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her again. “You’re stuck with me, Norris, so I’m gonna remind you as often as I can.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Y/N whispered against his lips before kissing him back.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky fading into a soft twilight, they decided to head back to the villa. Lando took Isla from Y/N’s arms, cradling their sleeping daughter as they made their way back to the dock. The boat ride back was quiet, peaceful, the gentle hum of the engine and the lapping of the water lulling them into a contented silence.

-

When they reached the villa, Lando carefully carried Isla to her room, tucking her into bed with the same care and tenderness he always showed. Y/N stood in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her face, her heart full as she took in the sight of Lando, who had once been the carefree, fast-driving boy, now a devoted father and partner.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before pulling the blanket up around her tiny body. He stood for a moment, just watching her sleep, his heart filled with a deep sense of contentment. Finally, he turned to Y/N, slipping his hand into hers as they quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

Once back in their bedroom, Y/N flopped onto the bed with a happy sigh, stretching her arms above her head. Lando followed, lying down beside her and propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. “So,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What’s the verdict? Best day ever?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling with love and amusement. “I’d say it’s definitely up there,” she teased. “But tomorrow might just top it.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what do you have planned for tomorrow?”

Y/N shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “Whatever it is, as long as I’m with you and Isla, it’s already perfect.”

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, full of the love and promise they’d built over the years. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N curled into Lando’s side, her head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

“Thank you for today,” Y/N murmured, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. “It was perfect.”

Lando kissed the top of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. “You don’t have to thank me, love. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. For you and Isla, I’d do anything.”

With that, they fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves outside their window lulling them to sleep. As Lando drifted off, his heart full and his arms wrapped around the woman he loved, he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And as the stars twinkled above, casting their soft light over the peaceful villa, one thing was certain: this summer, this moment, would be one they’d cherish forever.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! I’m currently writing part three of baking cookies! I hope to finish it soon and upload it soon!

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[xosannie]

Head Empty, Mouth Full

☆Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: soft bf!Yunho x needy gf!reader

☆Word Count: 1.9k

☆Warnings: pwp, oral (m receiving), praise, hair pulling, cock worship, just a sprinkle of deep throat, soft dom Yunho, cum eating, reader doesn’t orgasm (sorry) (let me know if I missed anything)

☆a/n: Short fic, I just can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to give Yunho head. Yunho makes me feral so I hope you enjoy this as much as I do ^_^

—————————————————————————

You hummed softly at the feeling of Yunho‘s long fingers massaging your scalp. Your head rested on his thigh as he sat back against the headboard on your bed. You both enjoy each other's warmth as a movie played on the TV. 

You felt so warm and so safe snuggled up in the covers and nuzzling into Yunho’s lap. Every now and then he would glance down, smiling softly at the sight of your comfortable position. Your hair was so soft, he liked to brush the strands out of your face so he could see your pretty beauty marks better. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said in a low, gruff tone.

“You’re one to talk.”

Yunho chuckles at your reply, cupping your face to stroke your cheek. Yunho’s touch was so gentle, it made your heart swell. He felt so warm, and he smelled so nice. He just came out of the shower a few minutes ago, so you could faintly smell his body wash. It was a mix of musk and soft vanilla. 

You nuzzled your face in his thigh, taking in his scent and holding him closer. You loved his smell, his touch, and his voice. You loved his long fingers that felt good when they ran in your hair, and you loved how they felt thrusting deep inside you.

Woah, where did that come from? 

You try to shake those thoughts away. You and Yunho were having a wholesome time; let’s not ruin it with your degeneracy. Your eyes zeroed in on his crotch that was a mere inches away from your face. 

Oh no… Why were you feeling horny all of a sudden? 

You tried to ignore the small ache that began to grow in between your legs. You shifted around, legs entangling with Yunho’s under the covers. Yunho didn’t think of it much, assuming that you were just trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t until he felt your hands slowly running up his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweats, that made him put two and two together. He noticed the shift in your behavior, and a small smirk grew on his lips.

“Is my baby horny?”

You pressed your lips together, and you felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks. Of course, Yunho has always been observant; he can practically read you like a book. You didn’t know why you were feeling shy all of a sudden; it’s not like you both haven’t had sex many times before. You nod slowly, avoiding Yunho’s gaze.

“How did you know?” You ask softly.

“We’ve been dating for years; I can tell when my girlfriend is horny.”

You hear him chuckle darkly, the sound sending straight to your core. He runs his hands down under the cover to rub your arm in a soothing manner.

“What do you want to do about that, huh?”

Your eyes flickered back to the crotch of his sweats, your mouth starting to feel empty. You rolled over on your stomach, resting your weight on your elbows in front of you. You look up at a smirking Yunho.

He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb toying with your bottom lip, pulling it down just to let it snap back in place.

“Wanna suck my dick?” He says softly, his voice deep with desire, and you already started to feel hypnotized by it. 

You nod your head, looking up at Yunho through your lashes. He tsked at you, shaking his head side to side before speaking.

“Use your words, baby.”

"Yes, I want to suck your dick.”

He smiled wide, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“Go on then. You have my permission.”

Without a second thought, you pulled the waistband of Yunho’s sweats, pulling them under his balls and admiring his soft dick. 

He watched in admiration as you took his length in your hand, slowly stroking it. It honestly didn’t take long for Yunho to start getting hard; the sight of you looking up at him with his dick in your hand alone was enough to cause a stir at his lower stomach. 

You loved the feeling of Yunho slowly getting more aroused; you took his half-hard cock in your warm mouth. You loved it even more when you felt him grow bigger against your lips. He let out a small huff, never taking his eyes off you. 

“That’s it, my good girl; get me hard.”

You moaned softly at his praise, encouraging you to bob your head slowly up and down his shaft. After you felt he was fully hard, you pulled off, collecting a wad of spit and letting it drip past your lips and down on his length. You use that as lubricant, stroking Yunho a little faster. 

Yunho’s breath started to grow heavier, and his eyes glistened with desire and affection. You just looked so pretty between his legs. He continued to run his hands in your hair, wanting to keep touching you any way he could. 

“You have the prettiest cock,” you whisper, placing a warm kiss on his tip while you looked up at him.

Yunho takes in a breath through his nose, your praise going straight to his dick. His eyes darkened a bit, watching the way your lips pressed against him. 

You trailed kisses from his tip all the way down to the base of his shaft; you stuck your tongue out and licked a long strip back up to the top. Yunho let out a shaky breath as his fingers started to grip at the roots of your hair. 

“You are so perfect like this.”

You whimper softly, licking his tip while you stroke the rest of his shaft. 

“I love your dick Yunho,” you whine.

He moaned at your words, feeling himself throb. You take the head of his length in your mouth, sucking softly while your tongue dances around his slit. Yunho let out a quiet moan, brows furrowing as he spoke in a breathless tone.

“I love when you worship my cock.”

You couldn’t take much more; you needed Yunho to fill your mouth. You slid down, taking him deeper, which caused Yunho to gasp. He wasn’t expecting you to take him in all of a sudden, and he held your hair back to keep it out of your face.

“Fuuckk, there you go.” He breathed out.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his throbbing length sliding against your tongue. You let out moans, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth with need.

You core ached desperately between your legs. You loved sucking Yunho off so much; it was so hot and intimate. You swear you can get close just by having his dick in your mouth. 

“Mmm, you look so happy with my cock in your mouth,” he moaned, looking down at your blissed face.

You whimper at his words, your hand holding onto what you couldn’t reach. Yunho’s dick was long; you’re still training yourself to fully take him down your throat with ease. 

You pull off to let yourself breathe, stroking him faster as you pant heavily. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his tip, and Yunho groaned at the sight. He reached down to wipe the drool off the side of your mouth. 

You rested your head on his thigh while stroking his cock; he chucked at your behavior, petting your hair while he watched you endearingly. You started to feel yourself get more needy, but you didn’t want to stop pleasing Yunho. Not until he finished. 

“My pretty girl just can’t get enough of my dick, huh?” 

You whimpered, hiding your face in his lap. He gripped the roots of your hair, slowly lifting your head up to look at him. The action was both gentle and rough; it made your pussy throb. 

“Answer me when I talk to you.” 

“Yes! I love your dick. I can never get enough,” you moaned out. 

You loved how Yunho can manage to be both soft and demanding. Hearing his dominant words while he spoke in a gentle tone made you feel dizzy. He groaned, enjoying the look on your face and the sound of your needy voice. 

You take him back in your mouth, sucking while bobbing your head. This time Yunho helped guide you on his cock. He held onto your hair, pushing and pulling your head up and down. His moans grew louder, and so did yours. 

You tried to keep your eyes on Yunho, wanting to see his expression, but your vision kept blurring. Tears spilled out of your eyes from how turned on you were, and Yunho smiled while wiping them away. The sounds of lewd slurping and low moans filled the room. 

You wanted more; you needed more. You pulled off one last time, trying to even out your breath to prepare yourself for what you were going to do next. You saw the way Yunho twitched in your hand, his pretty cock glistening in the dim lighting as it shone with your saliva. 

You kissed his tip one last time before taking him back in your mouth. This time, you steadied your head, taking in a breath through your nose, and let your jaw relax. Yunho watched you intently, curious about what you’re doing.

“What is it, ba-oh my god!”

You take Yunho deeper in your mouth, going all the way down till your nose nuzzled against his pelvis. Yunho let out a loud moan, throwing his head back and tightening his grip in your hair. The feeling of your throat constricting around his length was enough to make him feel closer to release.

“I’m gonna… I’m close.” He whined.

You moaned, pulling off just to do it again. This time Yunho held you down, panting heavily as he moaned your name beautifully. You gripped his sweats tightly, feeling dizzy and, oh, so aroused. You felt him uncontrollably buck his hips up, fucking your face and making you choke. 

You choking is what pushed Yunho off the edge. And with one last whine from him, he came down your throat. 

You pulled off slightly so his hot seed could cover your tongue. You moaned at the taste of him; you swear you almost came right then and there. Once you felt Yunho pull you off by your hair, you looked up at him holding his cum in your mouth. 

Yunho panted heavily, head resting on the headboard after his intense orgasm. He looked down at you, cupping your cheek.

“Let me see,” he huffed. 

You opened your mouth, showing off his semen on your tongue and making sure not to let it spill out. He smiled weakly, patting your cheek.

“Good girl, now swallow.”

You did just that, opening your mouth again to show him that you swallowed every last bit. He cupped your face with both his hands.

“You’re so good to me; come here, sweetheart.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, sitting up to straddle his lap. You felt him wrap his long arms around your waist as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You hum in the kiss, smiling wide.

“I like being your good girl.” You say softly, causing Yunho to chuckle breathlessly.

“That was amazing, baby.”

You giggle, placing a kiss on his nose, making him scrunch it up adorably. You both sat there for a moment, feeling his soft touches on your body as he tried to soothe you. He rubbed your aching jaw, placing kisses down your neck. 

“You really know how to make me feel good.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” 

You both laughed softly; you felt his arms tighten his hold around you. He grabbed your chin to pull you in for another slow kiss. 

“Now it’s my turn to make you cum.” 

“Fuck, yes, please,” you groan. 

~

[starkwlkr]

Can I request some hung with old man Logan? Something domestic or soemthing like reader baking for him. I love reading fics of Logan and reader being an old married couple

just the two of us | old man logan

an: anon ily for this request old man Logan needs more love <3 credit to pinterest for the gif btw this doesn’t follow the logan storyline so i added laura hope that’s ok!! sorry if there’s an spelling mistakes!

reader and logan live in a nice little cozy home because i said so 😍

“Taste.” You held the wooden spoon up to your husband’s mouth. Logan sighed, he knew you weren’t going to let him walk away without tasting the brownie batter so he licked the spoon.

For a while you had been craving brownies. While Logan was out working, you and Laura drove to the city to pick up the ingredients to make brownies. It was a fun small girls trip until it was time to come back home. Laura had helped you mix everything together until she got tired, she then decided to go up to her room to watch cartoons. You continued working on the brownies by yourself, that’s when Logan had arrived from work and now here you were giving him a taste test.

“So?” You waited for an answer.

“Bub, you are the best baker in this whole town, city, state, planet.” Logan was going to dip his finger in the batter until you slapped it away.

“No! You’re going to wait like the rest of us, but I did tell Laura she could have the first brownie so just wait.” You told him.

Logan groaned and walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “How was your day?”

Logan always asked about you day. It didn’t matter if you stayed home and read a book or did some gardening, he wanted to know.

“Good. Laura and I read a new book, we went to buy ingredients to make brownies and now my old man is home so I’d say it’s been a pretty good day.” You started to pour the brownie batter into a pan.

He didn’t mind you calling him old man, in fact, he loved it. Yeah, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but you still loved him. You did admit to him many times that the grey hair was a turn on for you, which made him laugh.

Before you could react, Logan quickly dipped his finger in the batter and licked it clean.

“James! Don’t you dare do it again!” You scolded him. “These are for Laura too.”

“Come on, Laura’s not going to know that I ate some batter,” Logan leaned on the counter next to you. “I’ve been thinking. .”

“Oh no, that’s concerning.” You teased, finishing up with the brownies and putting them in the oven. You turned to face him then wrap your arms around him, bring him closer to you.

Logan chuckled at your response. “I’ve been thinking about taking you and Laura to some place nice. We can do that family shit you always talk about.”

You laugh at his choice of words. “Family shit, yeah that’s what I said.”

“Tomorrow then, I’ll drive us to the nicest place you’ve ever seen, get some ice cream, watch a movie, whatever you want.” Logan leaned in closer, you doing the same.

Before your lips could touch, Laura interrupted you asking about the brownies.

“Not yet, my love, I just put them in. I’ll call you when they’re done,” You pulled away making Logan groan. Laura nodded then ran up to her room. You noticed the frown on his face so you quickly gave him his after work kiss. “Don’t be so sad, old man, the neighbor’s kid wants to have a sleepover with Laura this weekend so it’ll just be the two of us.” Logan definitely liked the sound of that.

Half an hour later, the brownies were ready. Laura took several with her to her room while you and Logan took a plate outside to the patio where your porch swing was. It was a beautiful evening, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and now you were ending the night beside your husband eating some homemade brownies.

“I think Laura is going to ask you for a dog.” You mention, scooting closer to Logan and laying your head on his chest. You held a brownie up to him so he could take a bite.

“No, we are not getting a dog.” He said.

“It would be nice, you know . . .” You bit the brownie after Logan.

“Is this why you made brownies? You want me to get you and Laura a dog?” He looked down at you.

“No, but can you?”

He sighed defeatedly. “I’ll think about it.”

[faebled-stories]

Unbroken Connection

Kinkvember Day 18: Voodoo Magic

Aespa Karina (Yu Jimin) x Male reader

11.5k words

The house was everything you and Karina had dreamed up over whispered conversations and late-night plans—a beautiful, old-fashioned structure with a story in every corner, as if each creak and crack held its own memory. The red brick walls were cloaked in ivy, its tendrils winding upward in lazy spirals, giving the house a sense of timelessness, like it had stood for centuries, watching quietly as generations came and went.

“This place is perfect,” Karina whispered as she stepped onto the wide porch, running her fingers lightly along the railing. The wood was cool under her touch, its carvings faint but intricate. “Can you imagine the kind of lives people must have lived here?” Her voice carried a mix of wonder and nostalgia, as though she could already feel the house’s history soaking into her skin.

“Long ones,” you joked, gesturing to the ivy. “Look at this stuff. It’s practically holding the bricks together.”

She smiled, her eyes tracing the ivy’s twists and turns. “I like it. Feels alive.”

In the gentle evening light, the porch radiated a kind of quiet charm, the sort that made you imagine warm cups of tea and conversations that lingered long into the evening under skies painted by the sunset’s last, tender hues. A faint scent of lavender drifted in the air, subtle yet persistent, as if it had seeped into the walls, lingering from some long-forgotten garden nearby.

Inside, each room seemed to come alive with your presence. The wooden floors groaned in protest beneath your feet, their creaks echoing through the empty halls, creating a melody of movement that felt almost like the house was speaking to you, welcoming you home. The walls, bare and waiting, seemed to listen as you and Karina unpacked, your laughter filling the rooms and softening the house’s quiet, almost eerie solitude. Together, you unearthed each piece of your shared life from the cardboard boxes, placing cherished objects on shelves, letting them claim their new spaces.

“Do you think this place will feel like ours?” Karina asked as she set a stack of books on the mantle. She glanced at you, her head tilting slightly. “Or will it always feel… I don’t know. Like someone else’s?”

“It already feels like ours,” you replied. “But maybe I’m just biased because of how much we’ve already carried in.” You gestured at the half-empty boxes, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughed softly, but her eyes lingered on the empty space around her. “I guess we’ll see.”

Shadows began to settle into corners as the evening light faded, casting the rooms in a dim, golden glow. By the time most of the boxes were empty, you felt an irresistible pull to explore. The house, despite its warm charm, held an air of mystery, as if there were stories yet untold in the very walls.

Wandering from room to room, you found yourselves by the staircase, where a small, unassuming door, almost camouflaged within the dark wood paneling, caught your eye. Its handle was worn, gleaming slightly in the low light, and the door itself was so inconspicuous that you might have missed it if not for the slight draft that seemed to drift from the tiny crack at its base.

Karina frowned. “That’s… odd. Did you know this was here?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Maybe a closet? Or a pantry?” You reached for the handle, but her hand shot out, stopping you.

“Do you think we should? I mean, what if it’s locked?”

“It’s not,” you said, testing the handle and feeling it give way easily. A narrow stairwell descended into darkness, carrying a faint, musty smell that hinted at old things left undisturbed.

“I don’t like this,” she muttered, her fingers brushing through her hair in that nervous way she always did when something felt wrong. “This is how horror movies start.”

You grinned. “Come on, Jimin. It’s probably just storage. Let’s take a quick look.”

Her sigh was audible, but she nodded, reluctantly following as you descended. The steps creaked loudly underfoot, and with each groan of the wood, your own confidence waned just a little. At the bottom, the basement unfolded before you—a space cool and dim, filled with shadows that seemed to stretch and shift in the weak light. Dust motes floated through the air, and rows of shelves lined the walls, each one crowded with jars of indeterminate age, filled with strange, murky substances.

“What is this stuff?” Karina whispered, her voice barely audible over the stillness.

“Looks like… I don’t know. Old preserves? Or potions?” you joked, though your tone carried none of the confidence you were aiming for.

She shot you a look but didn’t respond. Her attention had shifted to the center of the room, where a table stood oddly clean amidst the dust-coated surroundings. Something on the table caught her eye—a doll.

The figure lay whole on the table, its shape unmistakably human yet profoundly unsettling. Its smooth, seamless form lacked any definition—no fingers, no toes, no musculature. The limbs and torso were entirely featureless, as if sculpted from an unbroken piece of clay, leaving an eerie impression of incompleteness. This blank, unformed body served only to emphasize the haunting precision of its face.

The skin of the face was painted with disturbing realism: faintly flushed cheeks, delicately drawn veins, and a subtle sheen that mimicked the warmth of living flesh. Its eyes were closed, the lids resting softly as if in peaceful slumber. The stillness of its expression, paired with the intricate detail of its features, gave it an unnerving lifelike quality that felt profoundly out of place against the blank canvas of the rest of its body. The contrast between the intricate face and the featureless form created an aura of quiet, disquieting intent, as though the doll were waiting to be brought fully to life.

“Who would leave something like this in a basement?” Karina murmured, her voice breaking the silence, sounding small and uneasy against the stillness of the room. Her gaze lingered on the doll, her hand tightening instinctively around your arm. “It’s… wrong.”

“It’s just a doll,” you said, though your voice wavered. “Probably an old collector’s item. Some people are into creepy things.”

“Some people need better hobbies.” Karina reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, the motion an automatic gesture of unease. Her fingers caught on a stray tangle, and she tugged lightly, smoothing the strands into place. A few locks cascaded back over her shoulder, catching the dim light as they settled. She took a step back, her face pale. “Let’s just leave it.”

You nodded, slipping your hand into hers. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As you turned to leave, you didn’t notice the way her hair shimmered faintly, glimmering in the dusty glow of the basement light. The strands that had fallen from her fingers seemed alive, slipping from her shoulders and moving against gravity. They floated as if drawn by some invisible force, a deliberate motion that defied the stagnant air. The golden threads stretched toward the doll, weaving through the stillness like a gossamer pulled by an unseen hand.

The faint draft that had ushered you down reversed, the air now tugging gently in the opposite direction. It brushed past you with a quiet insistence, carrying Karina’s drifting hair closer to the doll. The motion was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably deliberate, as though something in the room had claimed the strands for its own.

The strands seemed to hover just above the doll’s porcelain surface, quivering slightly, as though testing the boundary between the living and the inanimate. Then, one by one, they disappeared. They didn’t land or settle—they were absorbed, sinking seamlessly into the doll’s cold skin. The process was slow, almost reverent, each thread vanishing into the porcelain as if it were feeding on them, consuming their essence. The doll’s surface showed no disturbance, no trace of the hair’s presence, yet a strange energy began to ripple faintly through the room, subtle but undeniable, as if the very walls shivered in recognition.

Upstairs, the laughter you shared was nervous but genuine, both of you clinging to it like a lifeline to push back the tension left in the wake of the basement. Karina wrapped her arms around herself as she stood in the hallway, her gaze darting toward the closed basement door. Her unease lingered, etched into the slight furrow of her brow and the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Next time,” she said lightly, her attempt at humor wavering in her voice, “let’s stick to exploring things with actual light switches. Maybe some windows too.”

You chuckled, trying to match her tone, but the unease clung to you as well. “Agreed. No more basements. Definitely no dolls.”

She gave a half-smile, though her eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before she turned away. The house seemed quieter now, its warmth tempered by something you couldn’t quite name.

But below, in the still, heavy air of the basement, the doll’s porcelain surface began to glow. The light started faint, a barely perceptible pulse deep within its core, like the flicker of a distant flame. It ebbed and flowed in slow, deliberate beats, each pulse growing stronger, its glow intensifying with a sickly greenish hue that cast long, jagged shadows across the shelves and floor. The air in the basement thickened, heavy with a strange, metallic tang, as if the space itself were reacting to the doll’s transformation.

The doll’s eyes, closed in serene stillness, caught the flickering light in a way that made the lids seem faintly translucent. At first, it was a subtle effect—a play of shadows beneath the painted lashes. But as the glow swelled, the closed eyes appeared to hold a deeper presence, as though something beneath the surface stirred. The lids, once simple and lifeless, seemed to press outward faintly, hinting at a restless energy concealed behind them.

The strands of Karina’s hair, now fully absorbed, had vanished without a trace. Yet, the doll’s features began to shift. Its porcelain skin, once flawless and cold, took on a faint warmth, a suggestion of pliability that hadn’t been there before. The faint blush on its cheeks deepened, almost imperceptibly, as though the glow from within was kindling something beneath the surface. The contours of its face grew more defined, softening subtly, as if sculpted further toward perfection with each pulse of light.

The house seemed to hold its breath. The faint creaks and groans of its old structure stilled entirely, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake. Even the distant hum of the wind outside faded, as though the world itself had paused. In the suffocating quiet, the rhythmic flicker of the doll’s eerie light became the room’s heartbeat, steady and deliberate, an ominous reminder of its growing presence.

Its aura now exuded a quiet, watchful energy—no longer dormant but active, as though waiting for something. The shadows cast by its light danced across the walls, twisting and shifting unnaturally, their movements disconnected from the flicker of the glow. And deep within the stillness of its closed eyes, there was a stirring—fragile yet undeniable, an unsettling whisper of awareness beginning to take shape. The doll no longer felt like an object but a vessel, and the silence of the room seemed to anticipate the moment when its transformation would be complete.

------

The next morning, warm sunlight slipped through the bedroom curtains, casting a golden glow over Karina as she stretched and let out a contented sigh. You had left early for work, leaving her alone in the quiet intimacy of the morning. The scattered, unpacked boxes around the room hinted at new beginnings, but her thoughts kept circling back to the basement—to the doll. Despite the unease it stirred in her, a peculiar curiosity tugged at her thoughts. It was like a whisper, faint but insistent, calling her back.

After tidying a few last things, Karina found herself descending the narrow stairs once more. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath her feet, their sound amplified in the heavy stillness of the space. Cool, stale air wrapped around her as she stepped inside, carrying the faint tang of dust and metal. Shadows clung to the corners of the basement, stretching ominously toward her as the dim light flickered. She shivered slightly, her gaze drifting over the jars, cobwebs, and forgotten relics lining the shelves before settling on the table in the center of the room.

There it was. The doll lay silent, unmoved from the night before, yet somehow it felt different—like it was waiting for her.

Her steps slowed as she approached, her fingers hovering just above its surface. She hesitated, taking in its vague, incomplete features. The blank, mannequin-like body contrasted starkly with the face, which, though detailed, felt unfinished. Its closed eyes added to its unsettling stillness. Slowly, Karina extended her hand, her fingertips brushing against the surface.

She froze. The material wasn’t cold and lifeless as she’d expected. It was warm, soft, and faintly pliant—almost like skin. Her breath hitched as she instinctively pulled back, her heart pounding, but curiosity rooted her in place. Tentatively, she touched it again, her fingers trailing across its surface. A faint warmth blossomed under her touch, sending ripples through her skin, as though she were brushing her own body.

Her hand moved down its neck and across its vaguely defined chest. As her fingers lingered, the contours began to shift, the undefined surface molding into shape. Karina gasped, her hand trembling as she watched the doll begin to change. Her breath quickened, and she pressed her palm against its shoulder, marveling as the smooth joint took on a lifelike slope.

She trailed her fingers down one arm, the surface firming and refining beneath her touch. The blank limb transformed into something natural, each joint and curve forming with startling precision. The doll’s hand became delicate and human-like as her fingers brushed its palm, her pulse quickening with the impossible reality of it all.

Her movements grew more deliberate, her hand gliding across the torso. The blank plane of its chest yielded to soft ribs and a curved stomach. Karina lingered, pressing lightly into its sides as though testing its reality. Each pass sharpened the details further—faint muscles, a subtle navel, even the texture of skin. Each touch sent an echo of warmth spreading through her, a mirrored heat that made her shiver.

Her hands drifted lower, trembling as they explored its hips and thighs. The surface molded seamlessly beneath her fingers, becoming impossibly lifelike. She ran her hand down one leg, tracing the length as a knee, shin, and the curve of an ankle appeared. Each detail emerged with precision, her breath hitching as her fingers brushed its inner thigh. The texture was so warm, so realistic, that it sent a wave of heat coursing through her.

Karina swallowed hard, her hand returning upward, her touch almost compulsive now. Her trembling fingers brushed the doll’s chest again, the faint curves she’d noticed earlier now fully formed into soft, rounded breasts. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the surface before tentatively pressing against it. The material shifted under her fingers, warm and pliant, as though responding to her touch.

As she lingered, the blank surface of the doll’s chest changed further. Subtle lines formed beneath her fingertips, the soft material shaping into peaks that were unnervingly lifelike. Her fingers grazed the newly formed nipples, her breath catching as warmth surged through her, sharp and electric, as though she’d touched herself. Each gentle brush sent a thrill rippling through her, leaving her trembling and flushed.

Her breath hitched as her hand hovered over the last undefined part of the doll’s form. Slowly, she pressed her fingers to its lower torso. The blank surface beneath her touch shifted and molded, forming folds and curves with startling precision, mirroring her own. Her legs shook, and a low moan escaped her lips as an intense warmth radiated through her body, her cheeks burning as she clutched the edge of the table for support.

When the transformation was complete, Karina stumbled back, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. The doll no longer looked like a lifeless figure. It was her—exactly her. Every curve, every line, every detail was replicated in unsettling perfection, a hauntingly accurate reflection that left her rooted in place.

Her heart raced as vulnerability crept over her. Seeing her own body laid bare in such an intimate, uncanny way sent a shiver down her spine. She hugged herself instinctively, as though shielding her body from her own gaze. Desperate to cover the doll, she turned away, her hands trembling as she rifled through one of the boxes on the floor. Her fingers brushed over soft fabrics until she pulled out one of her favorite dresses—a pale, flowing piece she hadn’t yet unpacked.

Karina carried the dress back to the doll, her hands shaking as she slipped it over its shoulders. The fabric fell into place with unsettling ease, fitting the doll’s body as if it had been made for it rather than her. The way the dress hugged its frame sent an eerie shiver through her, the intimacy of the moment uncomfortably surreal. She stepped back, catching sight of herself in the mirror across the room.

Her reflection stared back at her, but so did the doll’s. It sat upright on the bed, its face now fully hers. Its closed eyes seemed more deliberate, its lifelike features so vivid they felt alive. The uncanny mimicry unsettled her, daring her to look away—but she couldn’t. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the air in the room heavy with an unnameable energy.

The doll, now clothed in her dress, sat motionless, yet its presence filled the room entirely. For a moment, Karina thought she saw the faintest movement—a slight tilt of its head, a shift of its hand—but when she blinked, it was still.

Her knees brushed against the edge of the bed as she backed away, her mind spinning. The longer she looked, the more the doll’s presence seemed to mirror her own. It wasn’t just wearing her dress—it was wearing her.

-----

The days following that intimate reveal of the doll Karina had hidden it in her room unsure of what to do with it, she decided to brush it off and distract herself from another full day of being an idol. After an exhausting but exhilarating practice session filled with music, laughter, and sweat, Karina and the other Aespa members gathered in the conference room, their energy palpable. The lingering rhythm of the studio beats still hummed in her mind as she followed her bandmates, feeling the collective excitement that seemed to bubble just below the surface. Giselle, ever the source of contagious enthusiasm, nudged Ningning with a teasing whisper that sent them both into quiet giggles. Minjeong leaned forward, her curiosity piqued, her eyes darting between their manager and the others as they settled into their seats.

The manager entered the room with his usual steady presence, his hands folded and his smile warm. The girls instantly hushed, their attention snapping to him in anticipation.

“Your recent comeback has been a huge success,” he began, his voice beaming with pride. “You’ve topped charts and we couldn’t be prouder of each of you.”

A ripple of pride swept through the group. Minjeong shot Karina a thumbs-up, her grin as wide as ever, while Giselle reached across the table to squeeze Ningning’s arm, the two of them laughing in disbelief. Karina couldn’t help but smile, soaking in the joy that filled the room. It was moments like these that reminded her of why they worked so hard, pouring themselves into their music and performances.

But the manager wasn’t finished. “That’s not all,” he added, his excitement unmistakable. “We have even bigger news for you—you’re going on tour!”

The room fell still for a moment as the weight of the announcement sank in, then erupted into a cacophony of celebration. Minjeong let out a delighted squeal, practically leaping from her seat as she clasped her hands together. Giselle’s mouth hung open for a second before she broke into laughter, her eyes shining with disbelief. Ningning gasped, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration, and she turned to Karina with a wide-eyed look of joy.

Karina’s heart raced as she imagined the roar of crowds, the thrill of stepping onto stages in cities around the world, and the energy of fans who had waited so long to see them perform. It was everything they had dreamed of, everything they had worked for. The thought of sharing their music on such a grand scale filled her with a rush of adrenaline and anticipation.

But as the manager began listing the tour dates, Karina’s excitement faltered. Her mind snagged on a detail she wished she could ignore: the tour would overlap with her anniversary with you. A pang of guilt and regret twisted inside her, dulling the edges of her happiness. She forced herself to stay present, laughing and celebrating with her friends, but part of her was already mourning the time she’d lose with you.

That evening, Karina returned home with a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. She couldn’t wait to share the incredible news with you, but the weight of the tour dates pressed heavily on her chest. As she stepped into the warm comfort of your shared space, she found you waiting for her on the couch, your face lighting up at the sight of her. The familiar scent of home—a mix of her favorite lavender candle and the faint aroma of dinner—embraced her, soothing her nerves, if only slightly.

“So,” she began, setting her bag down and fidgeting with her fingers. Her voice wavered as she tried to balance the excitement bubbling within her and the regret tugging at her heart. “There’s some big news.” She paused, drawing a steadying breath before the words tumbled out in a mix of pride and hesitance. “The album’s doing amazing, and… we’re going on tour!”

Your face broke into a smile, your genuine happiness for her shining through. Relief flooded her, but the feeling was fleeting. She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as she continued. “But,” she added softly, her eyes dropping to the floor, “the tour overlaps with our anniversary.”

Your smile faltered for just a heartbeat, a flicker of disappointment crossing your face before you quickly masked it. “That’s… not ideal,” you said, your voice tinged with understanding. “But baby, when I asked you to be my girlfriend, I signed myself up for all of this. I’d never want to hold you back from that.”

She looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with gratitude as you reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. “I hate that it’s on that day, but… thank you for understanding.”

You pulled her close, wrapping her in a firm embrace. For a while, neither of you said anything, letting the silence hold the depth of your love and the ache of the separation that loomed ahead. The soft beat of your hearts seemed to sync as you held each other, anchoring yourselves in the present.

The lead up to Karina’s departure were a mix of sweetness and sorrow, a countdown neither of you wanted to acknowledge but couldn’t escape. Each moment together felt heavier, charged with a need to make it last. You and Karina spent every spare moment with one another, finding solace in the routines and small joys of your shared life.

Mornings became sacred. The two of you would wake up early, savoring slow breakfasts at the kitchen table. You teased her about her favorite coffee mug—a chipped, mismatched thing she adored despite your insistence that you’d buy her a new one. Her laughter echoed softly, her smile brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window.

Evenings stretched late into the night. You’d sit tangled together on the couch, your conversations meandering through memories of your favorite moments together. She told you how your first kiss still gave her butterflies, and you shared how proud you were of everything she had accomplished. When the words ran out, you stayed wrapped in each other’s warmth, the quiet hum of your love filling the spaces between.

There were moments of vulnerability too—nights when you found her staring out the window, her thoughts far away. She confessed her guilt about leaving on such an important day, and you reassured her with soft touches and whispered promises. 

------

Karina’s departure day dawned with a quiet that felt unnatural, as though the house itself understood what was coming. The air seemed heavier, thick with an unspoken finality, and even the sunlight streaming through the windows felt subdued. Her footsteps on the hardwood floor carried an unusual weight, each one more deliberate as she made her way to the door. In her arms, she cradled a large, carefully wrapped box, its presence as significant as the moment itself. The neat bow atop it added a touch of care, and she carried it with a reverence that spoke of its importance.

Her cheeks were dusted with a faint blush, and her lips parted into a nervous smile as she looked at you. There was something shy and uncertain in her expression, a contrast to the confidence she usually exuded. She set the box down gently on the coffee table, straightening her posture before turning back to you.

“I… I wanted to give you something before I left,” she said softly, shifting the box slightly and holding it out to you. Her eyes flicked between yours and the package, searching your face for your reaction.

You took the box from her carefully, surprised by its weight. It wasn’t heavy, but it had a certain gravity that hinted at its significance. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as you placed it on the table and began to open it. Lifting the lid, you peeled back the soft protective wrapping, and your breath caught as you revealed what lay inside.

A nearly life-sized doll, sculpted with uncanny precision, stared back at you—or would have, had its eyes not been closed in a strange, serene expression. Its resemblance to Karina was startling. Every detail, from the gentle curve of its cheekbones to the cascade of long, dark hair that fell over its shoulders, mirrored her perfectly. The doll even wore one of her favorite dresses, the fabric draping over its form in a way that felt disturbingly natural.

You blinked, taking an involuntary step back as you tried to process the sight before you. “Honey… this is…” Words failed you for a moment as your eyes darted between the doll and her. “It’s… so real.”

Karina let out a soft, nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, it’s a little unusual,” she admitted, her blush deepening as she shifted on her feet. “But I had it custom-made, just for you. Since I’ll be away for a while, I thought… maybe it would help you feel like I’m still close.”

You stared at the doll again, your chest tightening with an unplaceable unease. Its closed eyes made it look peaceful, almost restful, but its lifelike features made it feel as though it could wake at any moment. The dress only added to the strange feeling—a version of Karina that was simultaneously here and yet absent.

“Jimin…” you began slowly, glancing back at her. “I don’t know. This feels… like a bit much. It’s just… so realistic.” You tried to manage a smile, hoping to soften your reluctance. “Maybe too realistic?”

Her smile wavered slightly, and a flicker of vulnerability passed through her eyes as she stepped closer. “Please?” she asked softly, taking your hand in hers. Her voice was tender, her gaze imploring. “I know it might seem a little strange, but… I really want you to have it. Since I’ll be away, I thought it might bring you some comfort, knowing that even though I’m far away, you’ll still have something here with you. A part of me.”

Her hand tightened on yours, interrupting your thoughts. “I know it’s not the same,” she said quietly. “But I thought it could help. I just… I don’t want you to feel alone. Even if it’s a little strange, I want to leave you with something that reminds you of me.”

Her tone softened, and her eyes glistened with unspoken emotion. “Please, just try. It’s okay if it feels weird at first. I just… I really want this for you.”

You sighed, the tension in your chest loosening slightly at the sight of her vulnerability. Her intentions were pure, even if the gift itself unsettled you. “Alright,” you said gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll keep it.”

Relief washed over her face, and she broke into a warm smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. She lingered there for a moment before pulling back, gesturing toward the doll. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “Look closer.”

You hesitated, then reached out. Your fingers brushed the doll’s cheek, marveling at its texture. The material was soft, warm, and faintly yielding—eerily lifelike. Your hand moved lower, skimming over its collarbone and down its arm. As you brushed against its hand, you glanced at Karina, noticing how her chest rose and fell more quickly than before. Her lips parted slightly, and she pressed them together as though to stifle a reaction.

“You okay?” you asked, watching her closely.

She nodded quickly, her blush deepening. “Yeah, it’s just… weird seeing you touch it,” she lied, her voice barely audible. “But go on.”

You turned back to the doll, curiosity tugging at you despite your discomfort. Your hand drifted lower, tracing the subtle curve of its waist. You couldn’t deny how precise it was—every contour felt real, natural, even though you knew it wasn’t. When your fingers brushed over its chest, you froze, startled by how soft and pliant it felt. The sensation made you glance back at Karina, who was standing rigidly beside you, her hands clenched at her sides.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and for a moment, her lips trembled as though she might speak—but she didn’t. She stayed quiet, her cheeks flushed as she visibly tried to steady herself.

“Jimin…” you said cautiously, watching her reaction. “Are you sure this isn’t too weird for you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. Her body remained stiff, her fingers curling into her palms as she tried to mask her reaction. “Just… finish.”

You hesitated but continued, brushing over the doll’s arm again before moving lower. Your fingers trailed over its legs, the texture as lifelike as the rest of its form. Karina shifted beside you, her breaths uneven but controlled, her eyes fixed on your hand as though trying to focus on anything other than the sensation it might evoke in her.

Finally, you pulled back, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “It’s… impressive,” you admitted reluctantly, though the unease hadn’t entirely left you.

Karina nodded, exhaling shakily as she stepped closer. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s strange, but I wanted it to feel like I was still here with you. Even if it’s not the same.”

Her hand found yours again, her fingers lacing through yours as she rested her head on your shoulder. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured, her voice soft and wistful.

You kissed the top of her head, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “And I’ll be here, counting down the days until you come back.”

-----

The days without Karina stretched endlessly, each one a slow ache that deepened the longer she was gone. Though you spoke every night, the absence of her presence—the warmth of her touch, the sound of her laugh filling the room—created a void that even her most loving words couldn’t quite fill. The doll she had left behind sat untouched, a silent reminder of her, but you hadn’t found the will to reach for it. Instead, the house felt emptier with every passing day, its stillness amplifying her absence.

When your anniversary arrived, it brought a bittersweet mix of excitement and longing. Determined to make the night special, you poured yourself into preparing the space, setting the table with flickering candles and the bottle of wine she had excitedly suggested weeks ago.

Her request had come during one of your nightly calls, her tone warm with affection. “Promise me we’ll eat the same thing,” she had said, her voice carrying an almost childlike excitement. “Same cuisine, same dishes. That way, it’ll feel like we’re together.” You’d agreed without hesitation, ordering her favorite dishes from a restaurant she loved back home. Unknown to you, she had gone a step further, arranging for someone she trusted to deliver a special instruction to the chef.

When her face appeared on the call that evening, it was as if the ache of her absence melted away for a moment. She looked radiant, her soft waves of hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips curving into the smile that always sent a warmth straight to your chest.

“Happy anniversary, love,” she said, her voice tender and filled with emotion.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you replied, your tone matching hers. “You look… incredible.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So do you.” Her gaze flicked to the setup behind you, and her expression softened with appreciation. “You really went all out. It’s beautiful.”

“Only the best for you,” you teased, pouring the wine and raising your glass. “To us.” “To us,” she echoed, lifting her own glass with a bright smile. The synchronized motion, small as it was, closed the miles between you, making the distance feel just a little less insurmountable.

The evening began with lighthearted conversation, her laughter spilling from the screen as she shared stories from her tour. She described the places she’d been with an almost childlike wonder, painting vivid pictures of crowded streets, twinkling cityscapes, and quaint cafés.

“When we were in Japan, there was this tiny café,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “They served these adorable matcha parfaits shaped like bears. It was so cute I almost cried.”

“You? Crying over a dessert?” you teased, laughing. “I would’ve loved to see that.”

“You would’ve teased me the entire time,” she shot back, giggling. “But it would’ve been worth it.”

As the dinner progressed, the playful chatter softened into something warmer, more intimate. The food, rich and flavorful, carried an unexpected heat—a subtle, lingering warmth that began to spread through your body. It wasn’t just the wine or the meal itself; it was the way Karina’s voice felt closer, her laughter sweeter, her gaze through the screen more magnetic. Every detail drew you further into the moment, as if the distance between you no longer mattered.

She leaned closer to the camera, her smile softening as her voice dipped into a quieter, more vulnerable register. “You know,” she said, her gaze holding yours, “this tour is amazing, but it’s nothing compared to being with you. I miss the way you hold me, the way you look at me.”

Your breath hitched, her words weaving a spell that wrapped around your chest. “Babe…”

“I mean it,” she continued, her voice dropping further, taking on a sultry edge. “I miss the way your hands feel on my skin. The way you touch me like I’m the only thing in the world.”

Her tone shifted, her words slowing as her lips parted slightly. “You don’t know what it does to me, being away from you like this.” Her voice dipped into a low, intimate whisper. “I think about it every night—your hands on me. How you feel. How you make me feel.”

Heat flared in your chest, her words igniting a visceral need that had been dormant for weeks. You shifted slightly in your seat, your voice thick with longing as you murmured, “Jimin, you’re not playing fair.”

“Who said I was playing fair?” she teased, her smile widening. She leaned back slightly, her eyes half-lidded as her voice took on a deeper, sultrier tone. “I’ve been thinking about you every single night. How your mouth felt the last time you kissed me, the way your hands made me forget everything else…”

She let out a soft, breathy moan, her cheeks flushing as she watched your reaction. “I wish you were here to touch me, to remind me what it feels like to be yours.”

You froze, the sound of her voice and the sheer intimacy of her words leaving you speechless. Your heart raced, the image of her filling your mind with every heated word, the space between you shrinking as her tone drew you closer.

“I need you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jimin, I…”

“I need you too,” she replied, her voice dripping with longing. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About how much I want you right now.”

Her lips parted, her breath quickening as if she could feel the tension that pulsed through the screen. You leaned closer, captivated by the intensity in her gaze, your need for her overpowering the distance between you. The connection felt real, visceral, until the sharp ring of her hotel room phone shattered the moment.

She sighed, visibly frustrated, and glanced toward the phone. “Hold on,” she said, picking it up.

For a moment, you waited, unsure if she’d return quickly. But when she did, her expression was apologetic, her voice laced with regret. “The manager needs me for something urgent,” she said softly, her tone tinged with disappointment. “I’m so sorry, love.”

The flicker of frustration must have shown on your face because she leaned closer to the camera, her voice soft and reassuring. “I love you. More than anything. And I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”

Before you could respond, the screen went dark, leaving you alone in the charged stillness of your room.

You paced back and forth, your body still thrumming with the heat her words had stirred. The ache she’d left behind was relentless, her voice and the way she’d looked at you replaying in vivid detail. Your gaze drifted to your phone, lingering on the memory of her, when a notification lit up the screen.

A message from Karina.

Your heart leapt as you opened it. The photo hit you like a wave—a shot of her sprawled across the bed, her tousled hair falling in soft waves over one shoulder. Her skin glowed in the warm, muted light of her room, every curve illuminated with an alluring softness. Her lips were curled into a sultry, knowing smile, and her arms were draped in a way that hinted at modesty yet revealed enough to leave little to the imagination. Her bare chest was exposed, the subtle curves and smooth skin drawing your eyes helplessly downward. The photo was bold and intimate, a perfect balance of suggestion and revelation, pulling you deeper into her web with every detail.

The caption read: I hope this is the start of my apology.

You stared at the image, your breath catching as a mix of desire and longing surged through you. The ache of her absence felt sharper than ever, and now her words, her teasing smile, and this image stormed through your thoughts like wildfire.

Far away, Karina leaned back against her pillows, her lips curling into a sly smile as she imagined your reaction. She ran her fingers lazily through her hair, the satisfaction of her plan unfolding exactly as she intended. “Let’s see how long you last without me,” she murmured, her voice tinged with playful mischief.

Your room felt stifling, the air thick with tension as you lay on the bed beside the doll. Its lifelike features caught the soft glow of the bedside lamp, eerily close to hers yet unreachable. Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, teasing and sultry, her plan working perfectly as you struggled with the void she’d left behind. The space beside you felt impossibly empty, the absence of her touch a gnawing ache that the doll’s uncanny resemblance only amplified.

Your hand hovered over the doll’s face, brushing against the smooth, synthetic skin. The texture was startlingly lifelike, warm under your fingers, and as you traced its delicate features—the familiar curve of its lips, the softness of its jawline—it became harder to separate the illusion from the reality you craved. Karina’s name slipped from your lips in a quiet murmur, your chest tightening with longing.

Inside her hotel karina laid on her bed, her bare skin kissed by the cool air drifting through the room. She had orchestrated everything—the doll, the setup, even the lingering ache she hoped would drive you to her gift. She had imagined every step, every reaction, and her body hummed with anticipation as she pictured you succumbing to the desire she’d left behind.

Her lips curled into a smile as she ran a hand lazily along her stomach, letting her fingers trace idle patterns. She could almost feel your touch, phantom sensations that made her skin tingle. “Finally” she whispered, her voice low and breathy. Her thighs pressed together as the anticipation coiled tightly within her. She imagined your hands, your breath, and the way you’d surrender to the distance that had stretched too far.

In your room, you sat up, running a hand through your hair as the ache inside you became unbearable. Your gaze flicked to the doll again, its serene face illuminated in the dim light. Hesitation flickered through you before you reached for the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube. The coolness of it sent a shiver through your body as you prepared yourself, the vividness of your desire making every movement feel charged with electricity.

Karina shifted against the sheets, her eyes narrowing as a pang of doubt crept into her thoughts. What if you didn’t use it? What if her plan had been too much, too bold? Her confidence wavered, and she sat up slightly, running a hand through her hair. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as she whispered, “Did you stop? Was it too much?”

Her mind raced, imagining you hesitating, putting the doll aside. A ripple of frustration and sadness swept through her as she bit her lip, staring at her dark phone. “Don’t pull away from me…” she murmured, her voice laced with longing and desperation. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself against the quiet ache of disappointment.

But then—she gasped, her body jolting violently as an overwhelming sensation ripped through her. Her eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing, as she clutched at the sheets. Her back arched as her entire body shuddered, an unmistakable pressure filling her completely, so vivid and intense it left her breathless.

“Oh my God,” she cried out, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her thighs quivered as the phantom sensation of your length pressed deeper into her, deliberate and slow, making her toes curl. Every nerve in her body was on fire, pleasure rolling through her in powerful, unrelenting waves.

Back in your room, you positioned the doll carefully, the weight of its form adding to the vividness of the illusion. Your body moved instinctively, your mind entirely lost in the fantasy Karina had spun around you. Each motion, each moment felt electric, her name a quiet mantra on your lips as you surrendered to the overwhelming need she’d left behind.

Karina’s chest heaved as her body adjusted to the sensation, her hands clutching the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Oh, fuck…” she whispered, her voice cracking as she felt you move inside her again, slow and steady, leaving her gasping for air. The intensity of it made her whole body burn, her skin tingling with the phantom connection that defied explanation.

“You’re… using it,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice tinged with equal parts triumph and desperation. Her lips parted as another moan escaped her, her head turning to the side as she let herself fall deeper into the moment. Her back arched as her body responded instinctively, her hips moving subtly, as if to meet the sensation halfway.

The thought of you, so far away yet so intimately close, sent another wave of pleasure crashing over her. She shivered, her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I knew you couldn’t resist…”

The air felt oppressive, thick with the heat and tension that had built throughout the night. Your body moved with a desperation that bordered on animalistic as you thrust into the doll. Its lifelike softness under your hands, the way its core clung to you with an almost pulsing grip—it all blurred the line between reality and fantasy. Every sensation was heightened, vivid to the point of overwhelming, and you couldn’t hold back.

Your hands roamed over the doll’s body, gripping its breast roughly. The synthetic material gave under your fingers, yielding in a way that felt startlingly real. Normally, when you were with Karina, your touch was controlled, measured, careful. She was an idol, and every step in your intimacy came with a layer of deliberation. But now, with the doll’s unyielding silence and perfect mimicry, you felt none of the restraint you would have with her.

Your palm struck the doll’s breast, the sharp sound echoing in the room. A red flush appeared on its synthetic skin, and you smacked it again, harder this time. The sight of your mark left your breath hitching, your body trembling as the roughness spurred you on.

Karina gasped as the sensation of your touch reached her. The sting of your hand on her breast sent jolts of pleasure and pain coursing through her, her back arching off the bed as her chest heaved. “Oh, my God…” she whimpered, her voice cracking with the vividness of it.

Her hands moved to her chest, instinctively covering the marks she felt there. The roughness of your touch, the sharpness of each slap, only heightened the pleasure building inside her. She could feel every movement—your palm squeezing her flesh, the sting as your hand struck her, and the pressure of your fingers digging into her skin.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, a futile attempt to temper the overwhelming sensations radiating through her body. The motion only heightened the intensity, amplifying the heat that coursed through her. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, her entire body trembling as she whispered, “You’re so rough tonight,” her voice tinged with disbelief and raw arousal. “I can feel all of it…”

In your room, your breath came in shallow gasps, your grip tightening on the doll’s hips as your thrusts grew more erratic. The lifelike core pulsed and tightened around you, gripping you with a vividness that blurred the lines between fantasy and reality. Each rhythmic contraction drew you deeper, coaxing every ounce of control from your body, the intensity building with each movement.

Normally, with Karina, you would use a condom. It was an unspoken rule—one born of mutual care and caution, knowing how carefully she had to protect her image as an idol. But now, the rawness of feeling completely bare was intoxicating. The doll’s warmth, its pulsing tightness—it all overwhelmed you in a way you’d never experienced.

You groaned her name, “Jimin,” your voice thick with desperation as you leaned over the doll. Your free hand came down on its breast again, the slap harder this time. The synthetic skin flushed under your touch, and you pinched its nipple, twisting with a force you wouldn’t dare use on Karina.

Karina’s back arched violently as her skin mirrored your actions. She could feel your hand gripping her breast, the sharp sting of the slap followed by the rough pinch. A cry tore from her lips as pleasure and pain mingled, the intensity leaving her gasping for air.

Her body burned, her skin alive with sensation as if you were truly there with her. Every motion was perfectly synchronized, every rough thrust and squeeze sending her closer to the edge. Her chest heaved as she clutched at the sheets, her voice breaking as she cried out, “Yes… just like that…”

The doll’s core pulsed around you again, gripping you tighter, almost pulling you deeper. The sensation was surreal, unlike anything you’d felt before. It wasn’t just the warmth or the tightness—it was the way it seemed to respond to you, as though it were alive. The rhythmic squeezing was enough to drive you mad, and you could feel your climax building with unrelenting intensity.

You buried yourself deep inside it, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. The rawness of being bare, of releasing fully into the doll’s impossibly realistic core, sent shockwaves through your body. Normally the condom muted the sensation, a necessary precaution you’d both grown used to. But now, the sheer vividness of the feeling left you trembling. The pulsing tightness of the doll clung to you, each pump of your release magnified, each pulse drawing out the intensity.

“Ugh fuck,” you groaned, your voice breaking as your body gave in completely.

Karina screamed as the sensation of your release surged through her, a shockwave of impossible vividness that left her gasping for air. It was as if you were truly inside her, every pulse of your release tangible, every rhythmic pump filling her completely. The feeling was overwhelming, raw in its intimacy, breaking through every boundary she had known before. It was not just physical—it was all-encompassing, lighting up her senses in ways she had never imagined.

Her back arched violently off the bed, her legs trembling as the sensation spread through her. Instinctively, her thighs pressed together, her body desperate to contain the fullness, but it did nothing to slow the relentless tide of pleasure. The startlingly real pressure claimed every inch of her, leaving her utterly breathless. Her hands gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white, her body reacting instinctively to the connection that felt like nothing she had ever experienced.

Lost in the feeling, Karina’s hips began to move of their own accord, grinding upward in a desperate attempt to meet you. Her movements were met only with air, the stark reminder of your absence making the sensations even more surreal and maddening. The futile grinding only amplified her need, her body seeking a closeness that wasn’t truly there yet felt undeniably real.

“Oh, my God!” she cried out, her voice breaking as the intensity of it overwhelmed her. The rhythmic pulses of your release felt endless, each one sending another jolt of pleasure through her. It was as though her body recognized this as something forbidden, something she had never allowed herself to feel—a complete surrender to being filled, claimed, in a way that shattered her carefully controlled world.

The sensations opened something inside her, a deep well of vulnerability and raw, unfiltered pleasure. The feeling of being filled wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, a connection so profound it left her trembling. “I can feel you,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper, the awe and disbelief clear. “Every bit of you…”

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, each one more intense than the last. The fullness inside her heightened everything, making her body hyper aware of every nerve, every sensation. It was unrelenting, a tidal wave of ecstasy that consumed her completely. Her thighs quivered as her body tightened around the phantom sensation, her hips lifting instinctively as if to take more of you, to hold you closer.

Her climax ripped through her like a storm, an overwhelming, earth-shattering moment that left her crying out in ecstasy. The pulses of your release seemed to synchronize with her own, amplifying the pleasure as if you were truly connected. She could feel everything—the heat, the rhythm, the way you filled her completely. It felt endless, the connection between you growing stronger, the distance between you evaporating in that moment of shared release.

As the sensations finally began to ebb, her body collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The aftershocks rippled through her, leaving her trembling and flushed. Her skin was damp with sweat, her hair clinging to her face as she stared at the ceiling, her mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “You couldn’t resist.” Her voice was soft, filled with triumph and affection, her body still buzzing with residual pleasure. Her hand trailed lazily over her flushed skin, the memory of the sensations lingering like a brand.

She closed her eyes, her mind swimming with thoughts of you. “Good,” she murmured, her voice a mix of possession and tenderness. “You’re mine… just like I wanted.” The feeling of being filled, of connecting with you so deeply, had changed something in her. It was more than just a physical experience—it was a claiming, a bond that would linger, no matter how far apart you were.

Karina felt boneless, her body trembling violently as wave after wave of aftershocks rippled through her. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her thighs quivering as she struggled to regain control. She could feel every inch of you—the impossible fullness, the lingering warmth of your release pooled deep inside her. Her entire body felt raw, too sensitive, and yet her arousal continued to build. Every slight movement seemed to push it deeper, a constant reminder of how thoroughly she’d been claimed.

Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she bit her bottom lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill from her. Her inner walls throbbed uncontrollably, her body clenching as if unwilling to let go of the overwhelming sensation.

Her back arched off the bed as a sharp sting spread across her chest—a hard slap on her breast. The sound reverberated through the quiet room, and she cried out, her voice muffled as her face pressed into the pillow. Her nipples throbbed, hypersensitive as your grip returned, kneading roughly, tugging and twisting with no mercy. Another hard slap landed, and she gasped, her chest heaving as the pain blurred into pleasure.

Her mind spun as the sensations intensified. Her legs fell open wider, her body yielding completely as the rhythm grew more relentless. Each tug on her nipple sent jolts of heat straight to her core, and the fullness inside her felt like it was expanding, stretching her impossibly more. Her breath caught as she felt your tongue on her skin—wet, warm, and insistent. It circled her right nipple, the pressure teasing and building as you sucked hard, making her toes curl.

“No,” she whimpered weakly, her voice trembling. “No, I can’t—” But her body told another story. She arched into the phantom touch, her breaths growing faster as her nipple throbbed under the attention. The flick of your tongue sent shivers through her, the combination of pleasure and overstimulation pushing her closer to the edge. When suddenly.

Knock, knock.

Her heart leapt, panic surging through her. Minjeong’s voice came through the door, her tone hesitant. “Unnie? Can we talk for a minute?”

Karina froze. Her mind swirled in panic, her body still alight with your touch. She fumbled for her robe, struggling to gather herself. The fabric clung awkwardly to her damp skin as she tied it hastily, her trembling hands betraying her desperation. She forced herself to rise, but the moment she stood, an invisible grip tightened around her neck.

Her breath caught sharply, her head tilting back as the hold constricted her throat. She stumbled forward, her hand bracing against the wall as she gasped for air. The pressure made her lightheaded, yet it only amplified the arousal coursing through her. Her body betrayed her, her chest heaving as she struggled to take another step, each movement sending the fullness pressing impossibly deeper inside her.

“Oh, God,” she choked out softly, her knees wobbling as she reached the door. Her fingers gripped the handle tightly, and the constriction eased just enough for her to force the door open. She leaned heavily on the frame, her face flushed and damp with sweat, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Minjeong,” she managed hoarsely, her voice barely steady.

“Unnie, are you okay? You look… really flushed,” Minjeong said, her brow furrowing.

Karina forced a tight smile, clutching her robe around her. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice strained. “What’s up?”

Minjeong hesitated but stepped inside, her expression uncertain. “I just needed to vent,” she began softly. “I messed up during the performance yesterday. It’s been eating at me.”

Karina froze, her body still trembling as the sensations rippled faintly through her. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “No one noticed.”

Minjeong sighed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “But it was during my highlight part,” she continued, her voice heavy with guilt. “I missed the cue, and I could feel everyone looking at me. I feel like I ruined the whole song.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Karina said sharply, her words tumbling out too fast. “The crowd loved it.”

Minjeong tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Unnie, you’re talking really fast. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Karina snapped, her voice cracking. She crossed her legs tightly, her thighs clenching as the lingering pressure inside her made her shift involuntarily. “I just… I think I left some medicine in my bag in the bathroom. Can you grab it for me?”

Minjeong hesitated, her gaze lingering on Karina’s disheveled appearance, but she eventually stood. “Okay, I’ll check.”

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, Karina collapsed back onto the bed. Her legs fell open as her body gave in completely. The grip on her neck tightened again, and her head tilted back as she gasped for air. Her chest burned, her body trembling violently as the phantom rhythm built to a breaking point once more.

Her climax surged violently as your teeth grazed her nipple for the first time. Her back arched sharply as the biting sensation left her trembling, and the wet flicks of your tongue soothed the sting, coaxing her higher and higher. She grabbed the pillow, pulling it over her face as her voice escaped in a strained scream, muffled against the fabric as the grip on her neck tightened further.

Her entire body convulsed, the intensity overwhelming as she felt the fullness inside her deepen with every movement. Her cries turned into desperate, broken moans as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

When Minjeong returned, Karina barely managed to pull herself together. Her robe was haphazardly tied, and her face was flushed and damp with sweat.

“I couldn’t find anything,” Minjeong said, her tone skeptical. “Unnie, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve been running a marathon.”

“I’m fine,” Karina said quickly, her voice shaky. “I just need to rest.”

Minjeong frowned but eventually nodded. “I’ll go down to the lobby and see if they have anything.”

As the door clicked shut, Karina collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she let out a shaky breath. A weak, triumphant smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “You’re impossible.”

Back at your house, you sat on the edge of the bed, the doll resting before you. The soft glow of the room illuminated it's eerily lifelike features, a testament to the unsettling craftsmanship. Its warmth radiated faintly under your touch, and its pliant texture added an almost unnerving realism. As you worked carefully to clean it, your hands moved methodically, though your mind couldn’t help but linger on how strange and lifelike it felt.

Your fingers brushed against its core, and the unexpected tightening startled you briefly. You shook your head, muttering to yourself about the doll’s unsettling realism. As you continued, your movements remained methodical—careful scoops to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Each curl and shift of your fingers felt oddly precise, the warmth and give of the material blurring the line between artificial and lifelike. You adjusted the angle instinctively, focused entirely on the task while marveling at how well-crafted it was.

Again, Karina jolted violently, her thighs clamping together in a futile attempt to contain the storm of sensations coursing through her. A broken gasp tore from her lips as her fingers twisted the sheets, knuckles white with tension, her back arching off the bed in a mix of helplessness and need.

Each deliberate motion of your hand, precise and unyielding, sent waves of overstimulation rippling through her. Your fingers pressing and curling inside her felt so real it made her toes curl. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, rising and falling as she struggled to process the overwhelming intensity. She couldn’t escape the unrelenting pressure that pushed her to the brink, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath its weight.

“Stop…” she whispered faintly, her voice shaky and laced with desperation. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, the overstimulation dragging her into a haze of pleasure and vulnerability. “Please…” she choked out, her plea barely audible as her hips moved restlessly against the bed, seeking relief but finding none.

The pressure built relentlessly, her inner muscles clenching involuntarily, her body betraying her at every turn. Her face pressed into the pillow, her muffled whimpers spilling freely, each sound tinged with a mix of desperation and surrender. Her body bucked slightly, her thighs quivering as she tried to resist the sensations flooding her, but every shift only drew her closer to unraveling completely.

Then, suddenly, the sensations eased, leaving Karina collapsing into the mattress. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath as relief mixed with exhaustion, her body trembling in the aftermath of the intensity. The storm had passed, but her emotions churned restlessly beneath the surface. The earlier anniversary dinner weighed on her heavily—a night cut short, the guilt of leaving the call unfinished pressing uncomfortably on her chest.

Unable to bear the feeling any longer, she reached for her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled to your name and pressed the call button. The line barely rang once before your familiar, warm voice answered.

“Babe?” you said, tinged with surprise and concern. “Is everything okay?”

Karina smiled faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just wanted to check in,” she began, hesitating. “About earlier. Leaving dinner like that—I felt terrible. I wanted to hear your voice… to make up for it.”

The soft chuckle on the other end sent a soothing wave of warmth through her chest. “I miss you,” you admitted, your tone gentle and full of affection. “It’s been hard without you here.”

“Tell me about it,” Karina murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I feel it every second.”

A brief silence passed before you spoke again, hesitating as though deciding whether to share your next thought. “You know,” you started softly, “that doll you left behind… It actually helps. I don’t know who made it or how it’s so realistic, but holding it… it reminds me of you. It’s comforting in a weird way.”

Karina’s heart raced at your confession, but she kept her tone steady. “Then hold it,” she said gently. “Cuddle it, like you normally do with me.”

There was a pause on your end, followed by the faint rustle of fabric as you adjusted yourself. Karina closed her eyes, imagining you settling into the bed. Then, like a spark igniting, she felt it—an unmistakable warmth wrapping around her, soft and steady, just like your embrace. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her body easing into the comforting sensation as her chest filled with an indescribable lightness.

She could feel the gentle pressure of your arms encircling her, the way they always seemed to ground her, pulling her close and making her feel safe. The phantom weight of your hand rested on her back, warm and reassuring, while the faint brush of your breath against her hair felt so real she could almost lean into it. Her body sank deeper into the mattress as she surrendered to the illusion, her heart swelling with a mix of longing and relief.

“It’s perfect,” you said after a moment, your voice rich with affection. “Almost like you’re here.”

Karina hummed softly, her mind drifting into a haze of peace and contentment. She tilted her head slightly, as though nuzzling into your chest, and the sensation met her as if you were truly there. The phantom pressure of your heartbeat against hers resonated, steady and soothing, its rhythm lulling her into a rare sense of calm. Her breaths deepened, syncing with yours as she felt the warmth of you—not just physically but emotionally—envelop her entirely.

Her legs relaxed against the bed, the earlier tension melting away as the embrace seemed to tighten around her. She could feel the way you would normally hold her, firm but tender, your hands moving subtly, like you always adjusted to make her more comfortable. It was so vivid, so intimate, that she couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. The connection she felt—the closeness—bridged every mile between you, anchoring her in a love that felt as tangible as the bed she lay on.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics—your plans for the week, a funny story about something that happened at work, and little observations about the house—Karina hummed absently, her voice soft and dreamy. Her body felt lighter, weightless even, as if she were floating in the comfort of your arms. Her shoulders, always tense from the pressures of the tour, eased fully into the mattress as her lips curled into a faint smile.

“You should’ve seen it,” you said with a laugh. “The way it played out, it was like something out of a sitcom.”

Her hum grew fainter, the embrace and your voice working together to lull her further into relaxation. She could feel the warmth of your chin resting gently against the top of her head, the comforting sensation of being fully encased in your love. The faintest brush of what felt like your fingers grazed along her arm, and her body responded instinctively, her skin tingling as she leaned further into the feeling.

Unbeknownst to her, back in your room, you shifted closer to the doll, your body responding instinctively to the memory of Karina’s warmth. The moment reminded you of all the quiet times you’d shared before, when she’d curl into you, content and serene, indulging in the quiet intimacy.

It had always been her way of staying close, of feeling connected without urgency, and the thought tugged at your chest. Without thinking, you pressed deeper into the doll’s lifelike folds, its warmth enveloping you in a way that felt startlingly familiar. Pulling it impossibly close, you murmured into the phone, “Do you know how much I miss this? Just holding you like this.”

Karina didn’t answer; her hum had faded into a faint, contented sigh. But the moment you settled fully into the doll, she felt it—a slow, steady fullness building inside her, grounding her in ways words couldn’t describe. Her breaths deepened, your touch wrapping around her like a cocoon. The sensation of you filling her wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a tether binding her to you.

Her legs shifted restlessly, her body reacting instinctively to the steady warmth coursing through her. The subtle pulsing from within deepened the haze of comfort and security enveloping her. It wasn’t urgent or demanding—just a steady, grounding presence that filled her with a connection she hadn’t realized she craved. She melted into the sensation, her body yielding completely as a quiet, contented sigh escaped her lips.

“I miss you so much” you murmured again, your voice tinged with longing and affection.

Karina didn’t answer; her body was too relaxed, too wrapped in the comfort of your embrace and the subtle rhythm inside her. Moments later, the faintest, most delicate snore reached your ears, and a warm chuckle escaped your lips.

“Sleep tight, baby,” you whispered into the phone, your voice brimming with tenderness. “I love you.”

Back at your house, you remained there for a while, holding the doll as the call stayed connected. The sound of her calm, even breaths filled the quiet room, creating a sense of closeness that bridged the miles between you. You smiled softly to yourself, knowing she’d finally found peace. It was the best sleep Karina had since the tour began—a sleep steeped in love, comfort, and the feeling of being wrapped in your arms, no matter the distance.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

[txttletale]

hey what DO you watch on youtube? seems like you'd have some neat recommendations :3

i really loathe the like super-highly edited sound effect post-mrbeast slop most of youtube is now so i mostly like stuff that's like... calm and sedate. stuff i've been watching lately in no particular order:

northernlion vods and clips. he's an OG. i especially like his react court series, i must have watched all of them like five times.

speaking of OGs i've been watching zero puncutation (now fully ramblomatic) for like ten years and if anything it's only gotten better. best game review content on the internet. been really enjoying his more recent, slightly longer and more thoughtful 'extra punctuation/semi-ramblomatic' series too.

any austin's skyrim unemployment rate videos. instant classics to me, it's just a guy going around in skyrim trying to figure out the unemployment rate in every town. it's a very dry kind of humour, he plays it admirably straight, and it's weirdly calming.

kitten arcader's foot the bill videos. in a kind of similar vein, he watches the saw movies and then produces an itemized bill for everything jigsaw needed to buy to make his traps. it's kind of like... if cinemasins was fundamentally curious instead of fundamentally incurious, it scratches a similar sort of nitpicky detail-oriented quantifying itch but without inimical to the concept of art.

shuffle up and play. it's a magic the gathering play series that has enough editing that the gamestate is actually legible but not enough editing (or at least, not enough obtrusive in-your-face editing) that its annoying. i also like that they reguilarly play non-edh formats like cube and pauper.

spice8rack. i'm pretty picky about video essays but spice8rack has very obviously actually read books and has interesting things to say about the topics it discusses (mostly magic: the gathering). sometimes it has a kind of grating Theater Kid Energy but the fact that it actually meaningfully structures essays and analysis to earn the silly long runtimes is a rare delight from a video essayist.

jenny nicholson is a long-time favourite and another permanent fixture in my rotation. she's just extremely, remarkably funny which makes her the only 'basically just summarizing a thing' youtuber i think is worth the time of day.

i watch some sketch comedy, mainly wizards with guns and aunty donna, who both consistently put out really funny stuff that's kind of ITYSL-adjacent in its barefaced absurdism and contenmpt for concepts like "stopping a joke at the logical punchline". i also really like alasdair beckett-king and binging the old clickhole backlog for short-form comedy on youtube.

wolfeyvgc is right on the edge of the level of editing i find tolerable but as a long-time fan of multiple esports he Has It, he's absolutelyt fantastic at t elling the narrative of a tournament, explaining plays clearly, and generally making competitive pokemon esports thrilling and interesting ti someone (me) who#s never played it and doesn't care about pkoemon that much

i religously watch every elliespectacular/dathings YTP, the absolute best in the game right now, top tier snetence mixing and really good at actually setting up and paying off jokes in a way it feels like a lot of ytp doesn't. verytallbart is also pretty good.

trapperdapper is a channel i recently binged, it's a really fucking funny parody of minecraft challenge content that veers slowly from obvious angles of parody into pure absurdism with tons of blink-and-you'll miss it subtle visual gags.

too much future is a great youtube series where the two guys from just king things/homestuck made this world play through every fallout game and analyze them in that context. extremely funny and also just top-tier very sharp analysis. really good

another one of the rare good video essayists is jan misali. they're really funny and will go into topics that kind of seem narrow or strange to begin with in such depth and make them so interesting that it's consistently astonishing.

oh and finally sarah z makes pretty good videos. 'the narcissist scare' is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of one of the most annoying pop-psych phenomena of the last couple years. and remarkably well script supervised i think did anyone else watch it and think 'wow the script supervisor on this must have been, a mind geniuse'

ok i think that's all i've been watching lately. hope you like whcihever of these recs you check out :)

[inmaki]

as an apology for my constant disappearing here is a preview for my virgin nanami fic, hopefully done by the end of this month <3

hurt (comfort in full fic), making out, nanami being dumb

nanami kento was an orderly man.

not a single strand of his golden hair ever strayed from its place. his tie was never too far to the right or the left — only smack dab in the middle against his built chest.

his crisp, navy shirt didn't dare have a wrinkle on it, much like his allen edmond shoes that were free from any creases despite being worn every day for years.

it made you want to ruin him. ruin such perfection in all his towering glory.

and you did - at least, at much as nanami would let you.

intense makeout sessions happened every so often: during impromptu movie nights on the couch, in the morning under the warmth of your shared blankets, and especially after extra-hard days at work.

yet it never went further, no matter how hard you tried to initiate anything — whether it be a hand sliding down too low, or a soft moan into his mouth, nanami would be fumbling up an excuse to leave immediately. just like now.

"mmph.. 'missed you," you mumble against his swollen lips, sucking the bottom one greedily. the man had only just walked into the kitchen when you'd practically pounced on him in hunger.

despite his surprise, kento gives you the privilege of running your nails through his once-perfectly-slicked-back hair, grunting as you yank him even closer with his tie, loosening it in the process.

"missed you too, honey." even the simplicity of his giant hands caressing your waist sends a rush of arousal through your body, humming as you rub a hand down the solid ridges of his abs. he tasted like the coffee he'd probably been sipping languidly throughout the day, mixed in with the natural flavor of him.

memories of the sorcerer slipping in and out of the shower shirtless — toned torso on display and all — were some of the hardest in your book. occasionally, you would joke to him about dropping your panties then and there. you never actually dropped them (that could easily change if he so asked), but you were pretty much hanging on to them for dear life every afternoon.

and in response to your compliment, nanami would only chuckle nervously before shutting the door behind him to change in the closet. an ugly feeling would blossom in your chest every time at his lack of enthusiam or reciprocation to your desire, though you never let the thought spiral.

a few minutes later, your lips remained glued to his, passionately making out against the counter while continuing your adventure around his body, never straying below his belt.

nanami felt dizzy as he finally pushed away to take a breath. usually he was quite good at keeping up with your ineffable needs — he placed the blame on his depletion from work.

a groan involuntarily escapes him as you lower your lips to suck beneath his jawline, bound to leave a mark. "my love, what's got you so worked up?" he inquires with closed eyes, tilting his head up to give you further access.

you hum in approval of the action, sucking even harder. "told you, i missed you."

before you could stop to think, your hand that was once on his abs instinctively moved lower to rest just above his bulge, and then everything stopped.

with a shaky clear of his throat, nanami pushes off the counter, forcing you to back away while his hands drop to his beige dress pants.

your brows furrow. "what-"

"i'm gonna take a shower." his eyes avert, adam’s apple bobbing smoothly.

not another word follows as your boyfriend paces to the apartment's shared bedroom, leaving you to drown in your cynical thoughts.

if u wanna be tagged comment/send an ask! srry this is short but the full fic is much longer!!! i am like 3/4 done! i js procrastinate writing the smut (also the reason part 2 of my gojo fic is taking forever) T-T

read virgin gojo while u wait <3

[jinxthequeergirl]

The ol Switcharoo (pt1.)

Stan x reader/ Ford x reader

Summary: you liked to assume you knew Stanford Pines better then most, but when you return to him after am extended trip you aren't sure you really do

Warning: NONE, she's looking as all hell and I apologize, it's mess I know but it's a start ok

Chat feel free to tell me is this is a dumb idea

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

You where a weird kid growing up.

A fact you wouldn't deny. Even as a child you knew you where diffrent and what intrested you was odd. You embraced it. You loved all things creepy and crawly. While most kids your age had posters of there favorite superheros or cartoon characters while your room was plastered with that of monsters and ghouls.

Things from Dracula all the way to the Mysterious Mothman decorated your room, they were the movies you had on repeat books you stuffed your nose in. You loved it all. As you got older, you loved them more, thrusting yourself into science to prove they could existed in the natural world that they DID!

The supernatural world was out there and you where going to explore it. Even as a kid you would be caught monster hunting always running headfirst into adventure no fears.

Your mother was supportive of your every decision regardless of if she believed it lead anywhere or not. She was more happy you where just passionate about something at all and was eager to send you to college.

That's what led you straight to Stanford Pines. The man you would proudly proclaim as your best friend. You'd met during one of your shared classes in college, quickly finding out you had almost similar interests and ideals, everything he had to say fascinated you. And he was more then happy to have someone so eager to find the supernatural with him.

Soon enough you where inseparable. (Y/n) and Standford there was no stopping the pair of you two through all of college whatever you two went through you went through together ups and downs everything was shared. Adding fiddleford to the mix and your trio was complete.

You where of course the first person he had asked to move into his house in gravity falls to further your research together.

"This place is incredible Fordsie I mean think of how much is actually out there!" You exclaimed gesturing to the untamed woods of Oregon from the roof of the house. Ford chuckled adding the finishing touches to a page in his second edition journal before offering it too you for your stamp of approval.

You gladly accepted the book. "And just think about everything else there is to come once we get the machine up and running!" You took a pen of your own and scribbled something in, nodding in agreement to his statment before sitting down beside him.

You took in a breath of fresh air and exhaled a sigh of relief. Ford copying your action. "To think I almost would have never made it this far." He said staring up at the darkening sky.

"Well let's not think like that fordsie, everything that almost stopped you from coming here got you here didn't it?" You said as if you where asking the stars that began to speckle the sky.

He looked over at you. "Everything happens for a reason sixer. Plus you got me out of it didn't you?" You joked nudging him with your elbow.

"That It did." He mused while watching you stare up at the sky with content. He gave a soft smile. Of all the great mysteries in the world, you became his favorite. It didn't matter how well he though he knew you you still surprised him every day.

That was in the spring.

Everything about your life with Ford felt new, exciting, and perfect. You felt like your bond was stronger then ever, over the summer and fall. The perfect balance of cool and calculates and a fearless risktaker. You filled in for eachother where the other lacked completing eachother perfectly. Making your adventures flow smoothly.

Ford found himself thinking like this about you more often, stealing long looks at you when he thought you weren't looking. Standing closer to you, the trash in his room became filled with crumpled ink work of your likeness.

You had enjoyed the sudden burst of closeness you two had shared over the months you'd been in Oregon together it certainly didn't go as unnoticed as he had hopped it did.

He was a smart man, that was the one fundamental truth about himself no one could deny. But he was utterly clueless when it came to his own feelings

"Oooohwe you got it baaAAD don't you Stanford?" His face flushed at fiddlefords sudden outburst of excitement. "What are you talking about!?" He asked in a sharp hushed tone quickly averting his gaze from you only a few feet away.

"Standford I have known you almost ad long as you and y/n have been friends and I'm no expert but I do think I recognize how you look at them has changed."

"I pfft.. I wouldn't...that's my bestfriend-" He fumbled for his words face flushed a deeper red then before as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Mcgucket! Fordsie! I'm head up to bed for the night! Don't stay up too late." You chimmed in with a yawn.

"Hahah! Yes very good y/n! Very good get good rest for not let the gnomes bite! Ahaha" Ford blurted. You laughed as you continued up the steps.

Fiddleford laughed once where had va ished from sight. "I'm just making an observation...I'm not saying you lay awake at night thinking about her. But your secretis safe with me." Ford let out a sigh of relief at fiddlefors reasuring words they wherent up much longer before both retiring to their rooms. Stanford proceeded to lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling.

"Oh no."

When the winter rolled around things began to change. All the good memories you had together seemed to suddenly get lost and where instead replaced with something bad.

You remember sitting next to fiddleford staring at your bestfriend fall asleep in the middle of the floor waiting for something to happen. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

You where the first tobask the question both of you had been thinking. "If this thing can offer Ford everything we need to know about starting up this portal...then I say the risk is worth it...right?"

You chewed on your inner cheek staring intently at the man on the floor.

Since the winter rolled around and Ford had met this mysterious "muse" You felt a sense of unease fall over the house, Ford had suddenly become distant always away with the being. "Are you jealous?" Fiddleford pipped up turning away from Ford.

"Jelous?" You chucked. "Of what? There's nothing to be jealous of! Or even a reason to be jealous! If Ford wants to abandon his friends for some interdemensinal being that he wont share much about or even introduce us then fine by me!" You huff out the words folding your arms over your chest.

Everything went downhill pretty fast or at least that's what your memory served, by the time you where ready for the first test of the portal all the way to fiddlefords accident with the machine your new exciting life unraveled before your eyes.

He wasn't functioning the way he used

"Fordsie...I think we need to take a break."

He was pacing infront of you rappedly tapping a pen against his temple. "We can't stop now! We are to close."

You frowned, he was different now no doubt this wasn't the same Ford you had be friened only a few years ago, this wasn't the same Ford you had grown to love. He was far more distant now, all the little things he thought went unnoticed by you completely stopped. He kept his distance now. He was losing sleep because of this now, if it wherent for you he wouldn't even be eating.

"Ford I'm serious! Fiddleford got hurt...I don't think it's a good idea to continue we need time to stop and clear our heads!"

"My head is clear y/n! With bill by my side I know we can-"

"STANFORD PINES."

Stan stopped in his tracks. It had been a while since you had referred to him like that. He turned to you watching you pinch the bridge of your nose. Since when did you look so tired? And where you...angry with him?

"Stanford our friend was hurt because of this , it's time to take a step back and to reevaluate before someone else gets hurt...we need to get out of this house...maybe out of gravity falls for a while."

Ford stared at you for a while and you stared back for some reason in only a few months it felt like the both of you where looking at strangers. You watched as the gears turned in Fords head before he spoke up.

"Your right."

You perked up at his words taken aback by them.

"I think it would be in our best intrest if we both went to see our families for some time."

Again you where surprised by the words that left his mouth. He'd never spoken to you about his family you had always assumed they wherent close. At the same time part of you hoped he'd want to vacation with you somewhere warm away from the snow. So place that would bring back the real Ford.

"OK, we can do that." You said offering a warm smile.

That night Ford helped you pack so you could catch the first bus out of gravity falls that morning, he promised he'd be leaving the next day.

It was quiet while he helped. He wasn't joking with you or excitedly retelling one of your adventures from the summer.

Your mind still kept wondering back to how this could be the same person. Maybe this was who Ford was all along and you where blinded by the thrill of adventure.

"Promise to write?" You asked

"I promise."

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

Still you knew things would be better when you both returned from a long over do break. You watched a bundled up Ford wave you goodbye from the snow as your bus pulled away and you sighed.

Ford frowned as he watched your bus drive into the distance. This was for the better right? He could see the worry and pain he had seemed to be causing you which was never his intention. He didn't want to lie to you just to get you away to take care of yourself but if that's what it took to do just that.

You eneded up returning when the snow had melted in gravity falls. You hadn't meant to be gone that long, your family had begged you to stay and your mother needed the help around the house, you had wrote Ford like you promised but it seemed like the mail was eating up your letters. Either way you had been well rested and eager to return to your friend and to work. You took a hopeful deep breath once your feet hit the gravity falls soil.

"StanFord!? Are you home yet!?" You shouted, pushing open the door to the house. You were met with silence.

"Fordsie!?" You stepped further in carefully. You noticed all of the science equipment and creatures you had collected over the past year or so had been moved and almost put on display. You heard a floorboard creek, and you stayed silent, pressing up again the wall by the door, ready to either surprise your friend or scare an enime.

The door swung open and a familiar face appeared yelling welding a baseball bat.

You screamed, falling back onto yours, butt. "FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME ITS Y/N!!!" You shouted, holding your hands up to shield yourself. He stopped yelling and lowered the bat. "Y/n?...."

"Yes, it's me. Please put the bat down!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, placing the bat down and staring at you. "I live here with you, remember?"

The man seemed to stare at you like he was trying to figure out why he knew you. "Y/n! That's right!" He helped you up.

"I wasn't away for that long, was I fordsie?" You chuckled.

"Oh uh no no it's not that...uh come inside. we have some uh catching up to do.." You raised your eyebrow at him now, getting a better look at him. Something was off.

But you followed him to the kitchen, hoping your doubt and worry would wear off soon.

"Hey by the way...would you mind calling me stan from now on?"

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

[simmila]

Hello hi hi! The manga set is here.

In this set you will find a Maxis Mix set of posters, merchandising, and, of course, Manga! I don't want to imply that this is a "Maxis Match" set since the Artwork can collide with maxis style, but text was transcribed to simlish! The only Exceptions are the Magazines and a few posters of "Pair Posters" file, that still has Kanji and hiragana/katakana.

I used different versions from different places as base, including Japan, Latin America, USA and Germany. As the logos were made in simlish, there will be differences with how they look irl, as well as back covers and spines. Finding some backcovers or spines was challenging, so you might spot some differences with their real counterpart. Each manga is priced §10 and are grouped in 2, 3, 8 and 12 books in single tankoubon format, and §20 for double B6 grouped in 6 books.

---

You will notice a box with 2 swatches of My Hero Academia figures, for them i used the figures in this set (x) from FlirtyGhoul. I highly encourge you to download their set if you have a beefy computer (since the meshes are extremely high poly!) and if you are into Alpha cc.

---! This pack is now on Early Access, but it will be Available for free on September 19th. !---

By becoming a 🍰 or 🎂 member you can unlock all my Early Access Content.

---

THIS PACK INCLUDES A TOTAL OF 28 OBJECTS:

(All new meshes unless stated otherwise)

* Tankoubon Manga Collections of 2, 3, 8 and 12 books.

* Tankoubon Manga on an mini easel.

* Double B6 Manga Collection of 6 Books.

* Beserk Deluxe Manga.

* Manga Magazines (Can look a bit alpha!).

* My Hero Academia Figure Box ( Original Figures here x ).

* Blind Boxes + 5 Jujutsu Kaisen Mini figures & 1 Chainsawman figure Collection.

* Pochita Plushie.

* Punpun Plushie.

* Soda Can Merch.

* Book Platform.

* 2 Bookcases.

* Spirited Away Coffee Table

* Framed Movie Posters.

* Pair of Posters (Some swatches can look a bit alpha!).

* Manga Panel on a Canvas

* Poster and Bootleg Keychain.

* Pocky Flower Vase ( Flowers from Spa Day pack).

---

You can find this Pack by typing "Simmila" or "Manga" on the search bar.If you want to collect an specific series, you can type it all together to find the objects that have swatches of that series (for example: spyxfamily / demonslayer / oyasumipunpun - etc.)

Each Object states which series are included in their description, and their swatches are also color coded for an easier navigation.

--- Patreon: Preview (x) // If you are a member: (x)

I want to thank everyone that commented and suggested series in my patreon, really enjoyed creating this pack, and i hope you enjoy using it as well!

With love, Simmila.

[00valentina-writes00]

Street racing reader x mechanic Ellie??

(I just got done binge watching the fast and thefurious movies)

Reader street races to make some extra cash on the side, Ellie works on the cars and also details them for other racers.

RAHAHHAHHHH IVE had this stuck in my head since you made the request five hours ago bby-

And I have delivered.

✞⛧ Racing Hearts ✞⛧

warnings: language, sexual tension, suggestive themes, reckless driving, bickering, teasing, angst, smut towards the end (as always)

Word count: 7.9k

The garage smells like oil, burnt rubber, and metal—sharp, heavy, and lingering in the back of your throat. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast a dim, yellowish glow on the concrete floor, stained with years of grease and engine spills. The space is cluttered but organized, the kind of chaos that only someone who knows exactly where everything is can navigate.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed, eyes scanning the place. Word on the street is that this mechanic—Ellie—knows her shit. Works fast, doesn't overcharge, and can squeeze power out of an engine like nobody else. You're skeptical. Too many mechanics see street racers as cash cows, overpricing labor and tacking on fees like you're some rich kid playing pretend. You're not. You race to make extra cash, to keep your car running, to survive.

A loud clang echoes from the far side of the garage. Then—

"Yo, if you're just gonna stand there looking pretty, at least make yourself useful and hand me that wrench."

The voice is rough, low, tinged with something lazy and self-assured. You turn toward it

Ellie Williams.

She's half under a lifted car, only her legs and torso visible, grease-smudged jeans hugging lean, wiry muscle. When she slides out, dragging a rag over her oil-streaked hands, you get your first real look at her.

Maybe 5'5", lean but strong, built like someone who doesn't just lift tools but knows how to throw a punch. Her forearms are defined, her hands rough, calloused from years of work. A faded band tee clings to her frame, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up, revealing a fern tattoo winding down her arm, the dark ink stark against tanned skin. A streak of oil smudges across her cheekbone, and a faint scar cuts through one of her eyebrows. Her green eyes are sharp, glinting with a mix of amusement and mild impatience.

You arch a brow. "I don't work here."

Ellie snorts, tossing the rag onto a nearby tool chest. "No shit. You've got 'racer' written all over you." She eyes your car, then you. "That why you're here? What, engine light came on and now you're freaking out?"

You grit your teeth. "I need a tune-up. You free?"

Ellie sighs like you just asked her to rebuild the whole damn car from scratch. She jerks her chin toward the hood. "Pop it."

You reach in, pull the latch, and step back as she moves in. The way she moves is confident, easy—like this is second nature. She leans over, hands braced against the frame, eyes scanning the engine like she's reading a book only she understands.

She whistles low. "Damn. You push this thing way too hard," she mutters, hands already working, brushing over wires, testing the tension on belts. "Might as well start digging your own grave."

You cross your arms. "I win races. Winning means pushing limits."

Ellie huffs a laugh, shaking her head as she reaches for a wrench. "Winning also means knowing when your car's about to shit the bed."

She gets to work, sleeves pushed up past her elbows, the muscles in her forearms flexing with each movement. You watch as she moves efficiently—checking, adjusting, tightening. There's a rhythm to it, like muscle memory. The music blasting from an old radio in the corner doesn't distract her. In fact, she taps her foot to it while she works, muttering under her breath every now and then.

"You talk to cars a lot?" you ask.

Ellie shrugs, not looking up. "Only the ones with owners dumb enough to burn through their engines."

You smirk. "You flirting with my car?"

Ellie pauses just long enough to glance at you, lips curling. "Jealous?"

You roll your eyes but don't fight the grin tugging at your mouth.

She works fast. Every adjustment is precise, every flick of her wrist practiced. She knows what she's doing, and for the first time in a long time, you don't feel like someone's trying to hustle you.

After a while, she straightens, wiping her hands on the rag. "You're all set. Try not to kill yourself out there."

You slide into the driver's seat, start the engine, and immediately notice the difference. The hum is smoother, the response sharper. She fine-tuned it perfectly. You glance up at her.

"How much?"

Ellie leans against the door, tapping her fingers against the frame. "Two hundred."

You scoff. "That's it?"

She shrugs. "Could've charged you more. Might, next time, if you keep acting like a dick."

You can't tell if she's serious, but there's something about the way she says it that makes you smirk. You pull out a couple of bills, hand them over, and she tucks them into her pocket without counting.

As you shift into gear, Ellie knocks her knuckles against the window. "Hey."

You pause.

"If you win, bring it back," she says, her voice casual but firm. "I wanna see what I'm working with."

You meet her gaze, searching for the catch. There isn't one. Just a mechanic who gives a shit, even if she pretends not to.

You nod once. "Yeah. Alright."

And with that, you pull out of the garage, the tune-up carrying you toward the starting line.

——-

The first time you come back to Ellie's garage after a race, she looks up from under the hood of an old Chevy, eyes narrowing like she's already regretting seeing your face again.

"You back so soon?" she says, wiping grease off her hands with a rag. "What'd you do this time, blow a gasket?"

You smirk, leaning against the doorway. "Nah. Just figured you'd miss me."

Ellie snorts. "Yeah, like a hole in the head." But she still jerks her chin toward your car. "Pop the hood. Might as well check if you haven't completely fucked it since last time."

That's how it starts. One visit turns into two, then three. You come back after every race, whether you need work done or not. Ellie complains, rolls her eyes, mutters about "needy racers," but she never actually tells you to leave. And despite her grumbling, she always takes a minute to check under the hood, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a faint streak of oil along her temple.

She's all rough hands and sharp edges, but there's something about the way she moves—focused, deliberate—that makes it hard to look away. The way the overhead lights catch on the sheen of sweat along her collarbone, the way her forearms flex when she tightens a bolt, the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she's concentrating.

"You gonna keep staring, or are you actually gonna help?" she mutters one night, not looking up from where she's bent over your engine.

You shrug. "Just making sure you know what you're doing."

Ellie scoffs, tossing a wrench at your chest—not hard, just enough to make a point. You catch it, grinning. "Real funny."

It becomes a routine.

The races run late, sometimes past midnight, and more often than not, you find yourself back at Ellie's shop, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the darkness. Some nights, you're actually there for repairs. Other nights, you just lean against the hood of your car, watching her work.

Ellie pretends to hate it.

"You got nothing better to do?" she grumbles one night, wiping sweat from her forehead with her forearm.

“Not really."

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head, but you don't miss the way her lips twitch like she's fighting a smirk.

Your presence is easy now—familiar, even. She doesn't ask why you keep coming back, and you don't explain. But sometimes, when she's bent under the hood, sleeves shoved up past her elbows, you catch the slight pink on her cheeks when she realizes you've been watching.

"Seriously," she mutters, throwing a look over her shoulder. "What's with you?"

You shrug. "You're kinda cute when you're pissed off."

Ellie scoffs, turning back to the car, but you see the way her ears turn red.

One night, you show up with takeout.

Ellie raises a brow as you set the bag on the workbench. "The hell is this?"

"Food," you say. "Mechanics gotta eat, too."

Ellie hesitates, like she doesn't know what to do with the gesture. She's used to grease, to engine parts, to long hours with nothing but black coffee and maybe a gas station snack if she remembers. She's not used to people taking care of her.

Still, she grabs the bag, peeking inside. She mutters a quiet, almost reluctant, "Thanks," before digging in, perching on the edge of the workbench, one boot resting against the stool beneath her.

You sit across from her, eating in comfortable silence. The radio hums low in the background, some old rock song, and for a moment, the night doesn't feel so heavy.

After that, you bring food more often. Sometimes it's just coffee. Sometimes it's a burger or something she can eat with one hand while working. She never asks for it, but she never turns it down, either.

Another night, she leans against the counter, sipping the drink you brought her, eyes flicking over to you. "You keep doing this, people are gonna start thinking you like me."

You tilt your head, grinning. "Yeah? And what would you think?"

Ellie rolls her eyes, but you don't miss the way she licks her lips before looking away.

——

The dim light in the garage flickers overhead, casting long shadows that stretch across the concrete floor, mixing with the hum of the fan spinning lazily in the corner. The air is thick with the smell of motor oil, sweat, and something faintly metallic. It's the kind of scent that makes you think of late nights and a kind of gritty work you've come to associate with Ellie—who's currently hunched over the engine of your car, her body angled just so as she works. Her movements are fluid, practiced, confident. Each shift of her body reveals the lean, toned muscles of her back, flexing beneath her worn-out sports bra.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your gaze, despite your best efforts, keeps wandering back to her. There's something magnetic about the way she works. It's like watching a well-rehearsed dance, only instead of a stage, it's a greasy engine bay and a pile of worn-out tools scattered around her.

You can't help but notice the way the sports bra clings to her back, the lines of her spine visible as she bends over to tighten something under the hood. It's a small thing—something fleeting—but it catches your attention in a way you don't want it to. The soft curve of her spine as she moves, the way her muscles contract and relax with each movement—it's mesmerizing.

You think about how she'd look if she were arching her back, the muscles in her spine stretching, the way her body would ripple beneath your touch. The way her muscles might tense if you shoved your strap- It's a thought that catches you off guard, unexpected and almost too much for your brain to process. You quickly look away, taking a breath, trying to shake the thought out of your head.

But then she shifts again, and you're back at it. She pulls herself out from under the car, brushing a strand of messy hair away from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her face is flushed with the effort, but her eyes—those green eyes—catch yours almost instantly. There's a challenge in her gaze, something you can't quite read, but it's there, lingering.

"You gonna keep staring or are you gonna help?" she grumbles, wiping her hand on a rag. She doesn't look annoyed—if anything, there's a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, like she's enjoying the attention, even if she won't admit it.

You raise an eyebrow, pushing off the hood of your car. "Maybe I'll just watch you do all the work. You're pretty good at it."

Ellie lets out an exaggerated sigh and stands up straight, stretching her back with a small grunt. The motion pulls your attention once again, the way her muscles ripple, how her spine arches as she stretches. You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide how her physicality affects you. She notices, of course. She always does.

——

Ellie starts teaching you things.

At first, it's just little comments here and there. "If your car starts pulling left, check the tire pressure before assuming it's alignment." "Listen for knocking in the engine—means the timing's off." "Don't rev the shit out of it before a race, you're just burning fuel for no reason."

Eventually, though, she starts pulling you into the work itself. Hands you a tool instead of doing it herself. Makes you tighten a bolt, check a connection.

It's frustrating, at first. She's a tough teacher, blunt and sarcastic, but never careless. If she corrects you, it's because she wants you to get it right.

One night, as you're trying (and failing) to change out a spark plug, Ellie leans over, her arm brushing against yours, the warmth of her skin distracting in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

She smirks, voice low. "Need me to hold your hand?"

You huff, but your fingers slip on the plug, and Ellie laughs. Not mocking, just amused, something softer underneath.

"You're getting better," she admits, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Maybe I won't clown on you forever."

And then, that same evening, you challenge her.

"You ever actually gonna watch me race?" you ask, leaning against the counter as she works.

Ellie glances up. "I hear about it."

"Not the same."

She exhales, tossing the rag aside. "Racing's not really my thing."

You tilt your head. "Then why do you work on race cars?"

Ellie shrugs. "I like the work."

You step closer. "Come watch," you say, quieter this time. "You spend all this time making sure my car doesn't fall apart. Wouldn't hurt to see it in action."

Ellie hesitates. She's used to the garage, to oil and metal and machines she can fix with her hands. But people? Feelings? Those are harder.

Still, after a moment, she sighs, running a hand through her messy auburn hair. "Fine," she mutters. "One race."

You grin. "Try not to fall in love."

Ellie scoffs. "You wish." But her smirk lingers, and for the first time, you think she might actually be looking forward to it.

——-

Ellie's in your passenger seat, and she's already regretting it.

The neon lights of the city streak past, blurring into a rush of color as your tires screech against the asphalt. The engine roars beneath you, a perfect harmony of raw power and precision—the kind of balance only Ellie could've fine-tuned.

She grips the oh shit handle, knuckles white. "Jesus," she mutters. "You drive like a fucking maniac."

You grin, shifting gears as you weave between cars. "Told you to buckle up."

Ellie scoffs, but she yanks the strap tighter across her chest anyway.

The race is chaos—machines tearing through the night, engines screaming, rubber burning against the pavement. You're threading through the pack, cutting close, feeling the pulse of the road in your bones. Ellie's right there beside you, tense but locked in, green eyes darting between the dashboard and the road ahead.

She mutters under her breath—half curses, half prayers—as you take a sharp turn, the back tires kicking out before you correct with practiced ease. You feel the thrill in your veins, the sharp, electric rush of knowing you're inches from disaster but still in control.

Ellie exhales through her nose, stealing a glance at you. Your hands on the wheel, the gleam of sweat at your temple, the way your jaw tightens in focus. Something flickers in her expression, something she won't name.

"You're gonna get me killed," she grumbles.

You smirk. "Not tonight."

A straightaway opens ahead. The last stretch. The lead car is inches away, close enough that you can feel the tension radiating off the driver. You downshift, engine snarling, and Ellie leans forward instinctively, caught up despite herself.

"Come on, come on," she mutters, eyes flicking between the speedometer and the road.

You time it perfectly—cutting inside at the last second, just before the other driver can block. Ellie swears as you squeeze past, inches from scraping metal, the rush of air and neon swallowing you whole.

Then—

You cross the finish line first.

The world slows. The roar of the engine fades under the cheers, the flashing lights, the chaos of celebration. You exhale, chest rising and falling, heart pounding against your ribs.

Ellie is staring at you.

"You actually fucking did it," she says, like she can't quite believe it.

You turn to her, grinning. "Had to make sure you got a good show."

Ellie rolls her eyes, but there's something else there now—something deeper, something charged.

She huffs, shaking her head as she unbuckles her seatbelt. "You're insane."

You lean in, voice lower now, more deliberate. "You like it, though."

Ellie doesn't answer. She just looks at you for a long second, the hum of the engine still between you, the night thick with something neither of you want to name yet.

Then she smirks. "Drive me back to the shop, hotshot."

And just like that, you know this won't be the last time Ellie's in your car.

———

The garage hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, the scent of oil and metal thick in the air. Ellie's perched on the edge of your hood, wiping her hands clean with an already-filthy rag. Her coveralls are unzipped and tied around her waist, leaving her in a sweat-stained band tee that clings to her lean frame. There's a streak of grease on her cheek, just below her scarred eyebrow, and her green eyes flick up at you, sharp and knowing.

"You're an idiot," she says flatly.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Good pep talk, Els."

"I'm serious." She tosses the rag onto the workbench behind her, arms crossing over her chest. Her forearms are streaked with oil, veins subtly pronounced beneath her lightly tanned skin. "This race? It's not like the other ones. These guys don't just want to win, they wanna make sure you lose. You think you're fast? They'll make sure speed doesn't matter when they're ramming you into a guardrail."

You lean against the car beside her, feeling the cold metal press into your back. The payout for this race is bigger than anything you've taken on before, the kind of money that could keep you steady for months. But it's not just about the cash. It's the thrill, the proof that you can run with the best.

"I'll be fine," you say. "I know what I'm doing."

Ellie exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Yeah, that's what they all say. Right before they end up in a ditch."

You smirk. "Didn't know you cared so much."

Ellie scoffs, shoving at your shoulder with enough force to make you stumble. "Shut the fuck up. I care about my work, and I just spent weeks making sure your car doesn't explode the second you push it past 100."

"Uh-huh." You watch her, taking in the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the way her jaw clenches just a little too tight. She's pissed, yeah, but there's something else under it—something like worry.

She huffs, hopping off the hood. "You're impossible."

"And you're hot when you're mad," you shoot back, just to see the way she rolls her eyes.

Ellie flips you off as she walks away, but she doesn't argue.

——

The city lights blur past, neon streaks cutting through the darkness. Your grip on the wheel is steady, fingers flexing against the worn leather. The engine hums beneath you, smooth, powerful—Ellie's work, through and through. You can feel it in every shift, every perfect response to your touch.

It starts like every other race. The line-up, the revving engines, the sharp crack of the signal to go. You take off clean, slipping into position, letting muscle memory take over. The world narrows down to asphalt and headlights, to the pulse of adrenaline in your veins.

But halfway through, you feel it.

Something's off.

The car behind you—too close, too deliberate. You know blocking moves, you know how to force an opening, but this? This isn't racing. This is something else.

Then it happens.

A sharp jolt from behind—metal slamming into metal, sending your car skidding sideways. The tires scream against the pavement as you fight for control, hands moving fast, instincts kicking in. You see the guardrail rushing up, see the way they're trying to send you straight into it.

Not happening.

You cut the wheel at the last second, using the momentum to spin out and straighten just before impact. The car shudders but holds. You don't even think before punching the gas, shoving forward with everything you've got.

The finish line is a blur.

You don't even register the cheers at first, only the sharp, exhilarating high of survival, of victory. You won.

But your car? Your car is wrecked.

Smoke curls from under the hood. The side panel is dented in, the alignment's fucked, and you can already hear Ellie's voice in your head, full of exasperation and fury.

And sure enough—

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Ellie's storming toward you before you even get out of the car, boots heavy against the pavement. Her hair is a mess, pulled loose from its bun, and her face is flushed with anger. She looks like she ran here, like she couldn't get to you fast enough.

You step out, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. Nothing broken, just bruised. The adrenaline is still riding high, and despite everything, despite the near disaster, you're grinning.

"I told you not to trust those assholes!" Ellie's voice is sharp, but her hands are shaking when she reaches for you. Not the car—you.

"I won," you say, like that makes it better.

Ellie stares at you, eyes burning. Then, suddenly, she shoves you. Hard.

"You could've gotten killed, dumbass." Her voice cracks, just slightly. That's what does it.

Your grin fades. She's scared.

Her hands hover at your sides, like she wants to check you over but doesn't know where to start.

"Ellie—"

"Shut up." She exhales harshly, rubbing a hand over her face. When she looks at you again, her jaw is set, but there's something vulnerable in her expression. Something raw.

You reach out, catching her wrist before she can pull away.

"You care, don't you?"

Ellie scoffs, but she doesn't move. Doesn't yank her hand back, doesn't look away.

"You're a pain in my ass," she mutters.

You squeeze her wrist gently, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin. "That's not a no."

Ellie swallows hard. Then, quietly—almost too quiet to hear—

"Yeah. I care."

The words settle between you, heavier than the weight of the race, heavier than anything else.

Ellie shakes her head, exhaling. Then, finally, she does what she's been itching to do—her hands move, checking you over, tracing along your arm, your ribs, making sure you're still in one piece.

Her fingers linger.

You don't stop her.

The wrecked car, the sabotage, the near-disaster—it all fades for a moment. It's just Ellie, frustrated, furious, and more worried than she'll ever admit.

And you, alive, grinning, and feeling something even riskier than the race itself.

———

The garage door rattles shut behind you, sealing in the thick scent of oil, rubber, and something distinctly Ellie—warm skin, faded cologne, the sharp tang of grease. The place is dimly lit, the overhead fluorescents casting long shadows, flickering slightly like they can feel the tension hanging in the air.

Ellie is already pacing. Still pissed.

Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to cover it.

"You are such a fucking dumbass," she snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air. Her hands are on her hips, fingers flexing like she's trying to resist the urge to throw something. Maybe a wrench. Maybe at your head.

She's pissed. But goddamn, she looks good.

Her white band tee is draped over the workbench, discarded in favor of a black sports bra. It clings to her, sweat-dampened from the heat of the shop, highlighting the toned lines of her stomach and the slight curve of her chest. Her arms—lean, wiry, strong—are still smudged with grease, her hands flexing as she talks, fingers twitching like she's desperate to take something apart just to burn off frustration.

You should be paying attention.

You should be apologizing.

Instead, your gaze drops—just for a second—watching the way her small swells sit perfectly in that sports bra, the subtle way they move when she breathes, the way sweat beads lightly on her collarbone.

"...Are you even fucking listening to me?"

Your head snaps back up immediately. "What?"

Ellie's staring at you now, arms crossed over her chest—which, unfortunately, just makes your problem worse.

She narrows her eyes. "Unbelievable."

You swallow hard, fighting the heat creeping up the back of your neck. "I—uh—what were you saying?"

Ellie scoffs, dragging a hand down her face. Her biceps flex when she does it, lean muscle shifting under grease-streaked skin, and you're absolutely going to hell.

"You almost fucking died," she says, voice lower now, frustration simmering into something quieter, something tighter. "You get that, right? Like, actually died."

You should say something. Should acknowledge the way her voice wavers, the way her fingers twitch at her sides like she wants to hit you or shake you or maybe just grab you and never let go.

But all you can think about is the way a drop of sweat rolls from her throat, down her sternum, disappearing beneath the band of her sports bra.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Ellie catches the way your eyes flicker downward again. Her brows furrow. Then, slowly, something shifts.

"...You're not even fucking listening," she realizes, voice edged with disbelief.

"I am," you lie.

Her gaze drops slightly, just a fraction, then flicks back up.

Ellie takes a step forward.

You don't move.

Her lips part, just slightly, and for a split second, you think she's going to call you out, absolutely tear you apart for checking her out while she's in the middle of being mad at you.

Instead, she tilts her head, voice dropping into something smoother. Something slower.

"...My face is up here, ma'am."

You blink.

Ellie's smirking now—just barely. Just enough to make your stomach flip. Still mad, but now she knows exactly what's going through your head.

You clear your throat, forcing your gaze back up. She doesn't make it easy.

Her green eyes flicker with something dangerous. Not anger. Not entirely.

"I'm still pissed at you," she says, quieter now.

You nod. "I know."

Ellie's arms drop from her chest, hands settling on her hips instead. "And you still need to make this up to me."

You inhale sharply, nodding again. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want."

That smirk deepens—just a little. Just enough to make your pulse jump.

"I'll hold you to that," Ellie murmurs.

And fuck.

You're so screwed.

——-

Ellie's been working on your car for hours, refusing to let anyone else even touch it. Her focus has never been more intense, not even during the times when she's been elbow-deep in engine parts or tuning something just right. Tonight, though, it feels different. More personal. You can't put your finger on it, but something's shifted in the way she's working.

You can't help but feel like it's your fault.

She's already told you, in every sharp and frustrated word she's muttered under her breath, that you're reckless. That you take risks without thinking. That you don't even care if you break the damn car—or worse, break yourself. But here she is, sweat-streaked and tired, still refusing to stop. She's determined to get it just right, to make sure everything's in perfect condition before you hit the streets again.

You watch her for a moment before stepping closer to the car. Her back is to you as she tightens a bolt beneath the hood, the faint glow from the overhead light making the edges of her shoulders and back stand out in sharp relief. Her movements are fluid but strained, the exhaustion in her posture showing despite her efforts to stay focused. Her black sports bra is soaked through with sweat, and her skin glistens under the shop's lights, the grease staining her arms and neck a stark contrast to the softness of her skin.

The sight of her, all intensity and grit, makes your chest tighten in a way you can't explain.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are stuck. You don't know how to phrase it, how to ask for her forgiveness or make her understand just how much you appreciate the fact that she's here, fixing your car even when she has every right to just walk away.

She doesn't turn to look at you, but her voice cuts through the silence. "You're gonna fuck up again, you know that?"

You move around the hood of the car, leaning against the metal, just close enough that you can see the tiredness in her eyes. The deep lines of exhaustion around her eyes. "I don't plan on it."

Ellie scoffs, wiping a hand over her forehead, smearing more grease across her skin. "Yeah, well, your plans suck."

You lean a little closer. "You could always stop me."

She doesn't respond immediately. She's busy twisting a wrench, her brow furrowed in concentration, biting her bottom lip as she works. But when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, lower—like it's something she's only willing to admit to herself, and now to you.

"I can't fix you if you crash," she says softly, her gaze not meeting yours as she sets the wrench down, rubbing her hands against her jeans in frustration. The words hang between you, and for the first time tonight, the weight of what she's saying really hits you. It's not just the car she's worried about. It's you.

You swallow hard. It feels like a punch to the gut, but it's one you didn't realize you needed. You think about what she's said, how much it means, how much you've taken for granted her presence in your life. "Then keep me from crashing."

There's a moment of stillness, the only sound the soft hum of the lights and the faint clink of metal on metal. Ellie's eyes lift to meet yours, her face a mix of something unreadable—anger, concern, frustration, maybe even something deeper. She doesn't look away, and for a long second, you just stare at her. Neither of you says anything.

You step forward, slowly, careful to respect the invisible boundary that's always existed between you. Your hand lifts, fingers brushing gently against her cheek, the touch so soft it feels almost too intimate for the shop. But Ellie doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into it, just slightly, her breath a little sharper.

Her skin is warm, the grease staining her face still doesn't detract from the softness of her cheek beneath your fingertips. You feel the tension in her, in her entire body, and something in your chest pulls tighter. You want to say something—anything—that will make this moment feel real.

But you don't need to. She beats you to it.

Without warning, her lips crash into yours. It's sudden, but not surprising. The force of it makes your heart stop for a beat, and then it kicks into overdrive. You taste spearmint gum, gasoline, and something deeper. Something that feels like desperation and heat. Her lips are soft, but there's a fierceness in her kiss, an urgency that matches the rapid beat of your heart. The tension that's been building for so long between the two of you finally explodes, and all you can think about is how the hell you haven't kissed her before now.

Your hands find their way to her back, pulling her closer, the warmth of her body pressing into yours. You can feel the way her breath hitches against your mouth as you deepen the kiss, as if she's not quite sure if she should pull away or just let go. But she doesn't pull back. She's there, with you, kissing you like there's no tomorrow, and you let her.

Your fingers dig into the small of her back, feeling the smooth curve of her spine under her sports bra. The heat of her body makes everything around you blur. Ellie's breath is coming faster now, and you can feel the tension in her muscles, the subtle tremor in her hands as she cups your face, like she's trying to ground herself. You can't tell if it's from the kiss or from the exhaustion in her body. Maybe it's both.

The kiss slows, and Ellie pulls back, her lips still just inches from yours, her breath ragged. She's breathing hard, her chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes glassy and intense. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looks at you like she's seeing you for the first time. Then, in a voice softer than you've ever heard her use, she says, "Don't make me worry about you."

It's almost a plea. Something fragile. Something human. And you feel it deep in your chest.

You press your forehead against hers, closing your eyes for a moment. "I won't."

Ellie's hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, her fingers threading into your hair, pulling you back down to her lips again. This time, it's gentler, softer, more deliberate. You can feel the warmth of her hands, the way she's holding onto you like you're the only thing keeping her grounded.

You kiss her back, slower this time, with more meaning. More tenderness.

The garage feels small now, even though the space is vast. The soft light overhead hums, flickering as you pull away from Ellie's lips. There's a moment of lingering, of breathing her in, both of you still caught in the tension of the kiss, the rush of adrenaline and desire flooding you like it's the only thing that matters right now. Her hands rest on your chest, fingers flexing against your shirt, and her breath is hot and quick against your skin.

You glance at the car—a mess of metal and grease, the body still a little dented from the race earlier, but it doesn't matter. None of it matters as much as the girl in front of you. You pull back slightly, catching her gaze, and something in her expression shifts—softens, just for a moment.

"Let's go," you mutter, the words thick in your throat, the heat between you almost unbearable now.

She quirks a brow, clearly amused by the sudden urgency. "Where?"

You can't help but smile, but there's a wickedness behind it now, the kind that only Ellie could bring out of you. "To the backseat."

Her eyes narrow, the playful glint there, but she doesn't fight it. She grabs her jacket off the workbench, then turns back to you with a look that holds both challenge and something softer, something that feels real and vulnerable. "You sure the car's up for it?" she asks, her voice low and teasing. "Seems like it's in worse shape than you are."

You flash her a grin, moving toward the car. "It'll hold up. But I'm not sure you can, Red." You tap the roof of the car, your heart pounding harder now, both the adrenaline of the race and the desire to see where this moment leads.

Ellie huffs in mock exasperation, shaking her head as she follows you toward the passenger door. Her eyes flick to the backseat as she slides inside, and she makes a show of eyeing the cramped space before slumping against the worn leather. "This is ridiculous."

"Not if you make it fun." You shut the door behind you, your fingers shaking slightly as you walk around to the other side of the car. But as soon as you slide in, the atmosphere shifts. Ellie's eyes don't leave you for a second, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You don't waste time. Not anymore.

You're already leaning across the seat, your hands on her shoulders, guiding her back until she's laying against the cushions. Ellie's eyes flicker with something between anticipation and amusement, but she lets you take control, lets you kiss her again, this time without hesitation.

The kiss is deeper this time. Her lips part easily for you, and you move closer, your body pressing into hers. Her hands find their way to the back of your neck, pulling you in, urging you to be closer, to make her feel everything. Your fingers are tangled in her hair, and you can feel the heat of her skin through the thin layer of her sports bra as you kiss her harder, deeper, like you're both trying to escape whatever exists outside of this moment.

Ellie's breath catches as you kiss her neck, trailing your lips down to the curve of her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin. She's breathless, her hands roaming to your chest, tugging at your shirt in frustration, like she wants more, needs more.

"Damn, you're a tease," she mutters between breaths, though there's no real anger in her voice—just the kind of raw desire that's infectious. You smile against her skin, trailing your lips lower, hands working at the button of your jeans, just trying to take this to the next level, to see where the fire between the two of you can burn.

She gasps softly as you kiss her again, hands sliding down your chest to find your waistband. You feel the heat of her fingers on your skin, the way she moves with more urgency now, like the car isn't the only thing that's broken between you. It's her, too. She's been holding back all night, hiding beneath her sarcastic remarks and tough demeanor, but now, there's nothing left to hide behind.

You tug her closer, your lips never leaving hers, as she fits perfectly against you, the smell of grease and sweat still on her skin, the scent of spearmint gum lingering in your senses. You push her hair back from her face, brushing it behind her ear, watching her eyes flutter closed in the moment, her lips parted slightly as she exhales.

There's something about her like this—vulnerable, open, real—that takes your breath away.

"Ellie..." you whisper, your voice rougher now, but she stops you with a finger on your lips, a teasing smile on her face.

"Don't talk." Her voice is thick with desire, her hand moving lower to trace the outline of your chest, feeling the beat of your heart beneath her fingers. "Just kiss me."

You don't need to be told twice.

Your lips find hers again, the urgency mounting as you shift your weight, pressing her down into the seat. She groans softly against your lips, the sound driving you insane, and you pull her closer, hands tracing the contours of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her, the tremors in her hands as she tries to keep control. You've never seen her like this—so lost, so caught up in something more than just the moment.

You kiss her deeper, harder now, with everything you have, because you know, in this moment, you can't let go. You can't push her away. Ellie's the kind of girl who makes you lose yourself in the chaos of it all.

And when she pulls back, gasping for air, her hands in your hair, you can see it. The change in her eyes—the vulnerability they hold.

"You've got me wrapped around your finger," she admits quietly, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

You smile, brushing your thumb along her cheek, your heart racing as you look at her. "Yeah, I think I do."

Your hands slide up her sides, pushing the sports bra up and over her head, and then she's bare from the waist up, her small breasts on full display. Her skin is lightly tanned, with a few faint scars here and there—reminders of a lifetime of hard work. Her nipples are already hard, a soft rosy pink that darkens as you run your fingers over them.

"Oh..," she breathes, her head falling back against the seat as you lean down, taking one nipple into your mouth. She's sensitive—you can tell by the way she twitches, the way her hands grip your shoulders like she's trying to hold on. You flick your tongue over the bud, and she lets out a low moan, her hips rolling against yours.

"You like that?" you murmur against her skin, and she huffs out a laugh, even as her breath hitches.

"Shut up," she repeats, but there's no bite to it. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you take that as permission to keep going. Your mouth moves to her other nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and she lets out a whimper that goes straight to your core.

Her hands are fumbling with the button of her jeans now, her movements clumsy with need. "Help me," she mutters, and you don't need to be told twice. You slide her jeans down her thighs, leaving her in just her boxers, and the sight of her like this—flushed, breathless, and completely exposed—makes your mouth water.

You kneel in front of her, your hands sliding up her thighs, and she watches you with wide eyes as you hook your fingers in the waistband of her boxers, pulling them down to her knees. Her pussy is right there—petite and neat, just like the rest of her. Her outer lips are soft, slightly darker than the rest of her skin, and you can see the faint glisten of arousal already.

"God, Ellie," you breathe, and her cheeks flush even darker. "You're so wet."

"Shut up," she mutters again, but her breath catches as you slide a finger along her slit, feeling how slick she is. Her clit is already swollen, and when you press down gently, she lets out a strangled moan, her hips jerking forward.

You don't wait any longer. You lean in, your tongue flicking over her clit, and she swears under her breath, her hands tangling in your hair. "Fuck, yes," she gasps, her thighs trembling around your shoulders as you lick her in slow, deliberate strokes.

You can feel her pulse beneath your tongue, the way her body tenses with every touch, and you know she's close. So, you slide a finger inside her, and fuck, she's tight—warm and soft and so, so wet. Her walls grip your finger like she never wants to let go, and when you curl it just right, she lets out a noise that's half-moan, half-sob.

"Please," she gasps, her hips rocking against your hand. "Please, don't stop."

You don't. You keep going, your tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, until she's shaking, her thighs clamping around your head as she comes with a cry that echoes through the car.

Her body sags against the seats, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "Holy shit," she mutters, her voice rough, and you can't help but smirk as you stand up, your hands resting on her hips.

"you're so easy to make cu-," you tease, and she huffs out a laugh, swatting at your arm.

"Shut up," she interrupts, but there's no real heat behind it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and when she kisses you again, it's softer this time, more tender.

——-

It's a strange thing, becoming official with Ellie. It feels like there should be some big shift, some monumental moment where everything changes, but nothing really does. You're still you, she's still her, and the bickering and teasing that defined your dynamic before continues as it always has.

Except now, it's different. There's a quiet understanding between the two of you, a kind of soft intimacy that hangs in the air every time she grabs your hand or flashes that mischievous grin before dragging you into yet another playful argument. You still argue over the dumbest shit—like whether you're actually good at parallel parking or if you're "absolutely ruining the car's suspension with every sharp turn"—but now there's a deeper undercurrent to it. It's comfortable, easy. It's you and Ellie, in a world where nothing really changes, except maybe for the fact that now you get to kiss her whenever you want.

And you do. A lot.

One of those days, you find yourself in your car again, heading down a familiar stretch of road. Ellie's with you—of course she is. She's always there, usually sitting next to you with that trademark half-smile on her lips, like she knows something you don't. Her hands are resting casually in her lap, still smelling faintly of grease from working on cars all day, her flannel sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It's a simple look, but it suits her—rough around the edges, but effortlessly cool.

You make a sharp turn, your tires screeching slightly as the car swerves, and Ellie's hand shoots out instinctively, grabbing the door handle with a grip that's nearly white-knuckled.

"Jesus Christ, you trying to kill us?" she snaps, but there's a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She leans back against the seat, half-amused, half-annoyed as she watches you with narrowed eyes.

"You're always so dramatic," you say, grinning, your hands steady on the wheel. "It wasn't that bad."

"It's always 'not that bad' until we end up in a ditch somewhere, your blood on my hands."

You laugh, the sound of it filling the car, and despite the fact that she's still gripping the door handle like she's holding on for dear life, you can't help but enjoy the playful exchange. It's part of who you are now—the two of you together. The banter, the teasing, the way she'll roll her eyes at you but then steal a quick kiss when she thinks you're not paying attention.

"Admit it," you say, glancing at her for a second, "you like it when I drive fast."

Her lips curl into that familiar, knowing grin. "I like to live dangerously, but I also like not dying, so pick a lane, yeah?"

You chuckle, swerving slightly to avoid a pothole, and she groans, but this time, she's not as frantic in her reaction. She's used to you by now—used to the way you drive with that reckless abandon, like the world is a racetrack and the rules don't apply to you. Ellie knows you'll push the car until it can't take any more, but that's part of the thrill, isn't it? She might complain, she might grab the door handle and give you shit for your reckless driving, but deep down, you know she's not really scared.

[olderthannetfic]

Ok. Dumb question incoming, but I'd much have a 'conversation' than try to read fanlore or watch video essays or something because I want to hear individual people's contributions.

Why Star Trek?

Don't get me wrong - I like the franchise! I'm not super duper familiar with it, but I do enjoy the bits and pieces that I do know. But I am wondering why that in particular is hailed as the grandmother of all fandoms? Obviously people were fannish before Trek, but I don't think anyone can deny the impact that OG Trekkies had on fic, zines, and eventually on the internet.

I know that it's always been popular and well-liked, but it's not as if there was NO SUCH THING as popular culture/fan culture before that (I mean, come on, the term "parasocial" predates the first Star Trek episode by 10 years!) . Was it just a perfect mix of timing + popularity + etc? Is there something in particular about ST that "hit different" than other series at the time? Or is the fandom really really just that mighty and it's almost "luck" in a way? I guess I'm wondering what particular dominoes cascaded in a line in order for Star Trek to have the impact on fandom that it does today.

or am I wrong? were there just-as-big fandoms before and I simply overhype Trekkie power in my head / happen to see more talk of that than I do of other fandoms? It could definitely be a social circle bias thing.

Ugh. Asking OTNF why Star Trek is so important to fandom history feels very much like asking a Russian History major why War & Peace is so important to literature - hence why I warned you that it'd be a dumb question! But I am just so damn curious what sort of crack was in early ST fandom that made it SO widespread and SO strong.

Like, I guess the TLDR is: what was particularly 'different' about Star Trek, either as a fandom or as a franchise or both, that made it Theeeeee OG fandom, rather than something, like, i dunno, LOTR or the earliest versions of Marvel/DC comics or General Hospital or something else like that?

--

I await the hordes of angry Man from U.N.C.L.E. fans eager to prove that they were first.

And, no, it wasn't that popular. Hence the aggressive Save Our Show campaign and explosion of fan culture when it ended after three seasons.

Part of the answer to your question is that there were like three things on TV at the time. What big fandoms? 'Parasocial' was about non-subculture people feeling warmly towards news anchors or hosts of variety shows or something, wasn't it?

LOTR got rediscovered in the 60s or 70s from what I hear, but science fiction and fantasy books were for fringe weirdoes. SFF was not mainstream for the most part. There are a bunch of History of Book SF Fandom things on Youtube, and you should consult them on the complex role of LOTR in that space. LOTR wasn't a mainstream thing until there were live action movies a billion years later.

The key about Star Trek is that it was a hit with the pre-existing book SF crowd. They were an organized subculture. Some of their favorite writers wrote episodes. Other shit on TV was for people who did not form subcultures in that way. Other shit for SF fans had an audience 1/10,00th the size.

MFU was insanely popular. Illya Kuryakin was the heartthrob of a certain era of girl and inspired many a Russian major. (Seriously, there are soooo many Russia-boos of a certain age who probably still have a poster of him somewhere.) The actor set a record for fanmail. The show may have more influence on fandom history than we think now, but it also didn't rerun the way Trek did, at least in some eras, and it didn't have sequel series in a franchise. I'm always finding 2015 movie fans shocked that there's a still extant and semi-active fandom—or even shocked that the movie is based on something.

Starsky & Hutch was also hugely important and is the moment slash fandom and "Media Fandom" really split from book SF fandom. As Trek fans moved on to buddy cops, they were into a completely mainstream show but in a non-mainstream way. Trek was an awkward bedfellow at SF cons, but S&H just didn't fit at all.

Of course, while Trek is the grandma of AO3 type fandom, don't forget that a shitton of modern fans who are doing "research" just look at the same few sources. Enterprising Women is great and all, but even other fans of the same stuff are like "Oh, that was just X's friends. Where's [thing] and [thing] and [thing]?" Ditto Textual Poachers and the other scant early sources that people think have academic weight.

While Trek would still be central, the picture of what was going on in the late 60s-early 80s would look a bit different if you just found a bunch of 70-something nerds and asked them than if you regurgitate other people's research, you know?

If you want an idea of what else was going on in SF fandom back in the day, check out Galactic Journey, where they roleplay that it's 55 years ago and review SF things "as they come out".

If you want to understand MFU, here's a vid of Illya:

--

What say you, readers?

What have acafandom and fandom history and meta left out?