#hidden in the shadows // anon ask | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 7 months ago

Note

I need lando ANGST. Make me cry! But also smut! Goshhhh I need it. Something like they’ve been distancing each other and things have been so tense and one day lando catches reader getting herself off so he says ‘if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.’ And then he ruins here. But lots of angst in the beginning. Ty I love you xx

Endings, beginnings | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Well. I was sobbing while writing this. Hope you're proud of yourself 💔

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𐙚 summary ──── They’re at a breaking point in their relationship, their stubbornness and jealousy pushing them so close to the edge. After agreeing to distance each other during an exhausting triple header, Lando returns home unexpectedly to find her in his apartment, trying to cope with his absence.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, angst, smut, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, descriptive language, masturbation, oral & fingering ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, potential relationship breakdown.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.1k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── This is my 10th work ayeee! Thank you guys so much for investing your time into reading my silly little stories, and for trusting me enough to bring your requests to life. I appreciate you a lot 🤍🎀

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IT'S LATE. THE kind of hour that turns Monaco into a still painting, muted and hollow, yet as breathtaking as ever.

Lando isn’t supposed to be home yet. The plan was to stay in Brazil for a couple more days after the race, but plans change when you're a professional overthinker. Somewhere between the chaos of three back-to-back races, he couldn’t stand the thought of another night in a hotel.

He needed to be in his own space so he could think.

The elevator ride to his floor seems like going on forever, his suitcase dragging heavily behind him, its wheels scratching aggressively against the polished floors the second he gets out of it. He’s expecting silence; an empty apartment, untouched, heavy with the ghosts of their last argument. But when he opens the door, the faint smell of her perfume hits him hard across the face, and his heart tightens.

His living room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a scented candle casting long shadows on the walls. A throw blanket is draped over the couch, and a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.

And then he sees her.

She’s curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies. Its sleeves cover her hands as she hugs her knees to her chest, her face partially hidden in the dim light of the room. Her hair is a little messy, and there’s a redness to her eyes that tells him she hasn’t been sleeping well — he knows he shouldn't, but he's glad he isn't the only one losing sleep over this. On a deeper level, it means they both care enough to let it consume them.

So, it has to count for something, right?

For a moment, he just stands there, staring. Then, the words spill out before he can stop them, or think of something else to ask, “Why are you here?”

Her head snaps toward him, her wide eyes betraying a mix of surprise and guilt. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen in place.

She straightens slightly, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Lan…” she blinks in amazement, her voice barely audible.

“I just asked you a question,” he says, sharper than he initially intended.

He's not usually like this. But considering how they left things before he had to go, Lando is entitled to ask questions. It was her suggestion to separate, and finding her here only messes with his head more.

“I… know. I'm sorry,” she looks away, her fingers tugging at the hem of the hoodie. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” his suitcase thuds against the floor while he fixes his eyes on her. “Why are you in my apartment? We said we’d take some time apart.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively, but her voice remains the same as he knows it — soothing, carrying so much tenderness that it could stop wars. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lando exhales harshly, nodding while dragging a hand through his curls. “We agreed on space, remember?” he insists, “You can’t just show up here like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t—show up,” she snaps, her tone suddenly sharper. “I’ve been here for a while. I didn’t know you were coming back so soon,” she repeats.

“Okay, then. Let me get this straight. You're here, but you don’t answer my texts anymore,” he fires back. “Does that make any sense to you? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn't for me.”

“I was going to,” she retorts, standing now, the oversized hoodie swallowing her frame.

Lando takes a step forward, his hands on his hips. “I don't understand you. I thought this was what you wanted,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Space. Time. A chance to figure out if we even work anymore.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “I wanted to figure us out, not pretend we don’t exist.”

Lando's voice rises, his frustration spilling over, “You think I’m pretending? I’m doing what I thought you wanted! Because every time we’re together, we just end up—”

“Fighting,” she finishes bitterly. “Yeah, I know. Do you think I enjoy feeling like this all the time?”

His shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now. “I don’t know what to think or do anymore.”

They stand there in silence, the weight of their shared frustration pressing down on them. She sits back down on the couch, clasping her hands on the edge of it.

When she finally speaks again, her voice cracks. “I don't want to fight, Lando. I’ve been staying here because I couldn’t be in my own place. Everywhere I looked, I saw you. I thought maybe if I stayed here, it would make sense to feel your presence, because it's your place.”

Lando’s jaw tightens as he lets her words sink in. The sight of her, wearing his clothes with tears in her eyes makes his chest ache. He wants to wrap himself around her and make sure nothing will ever hurt her again, but the ego works a double shift tonight.

Still, “I'm not mad that you're here,” he clarifies. “But why didn’t you tell me?” asks Lando quietly.

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” she whispers. “I planned to leave before you… Well, it doesn't matter now.”

“See, that right there is the fucking problem. Of course it matters! Why wouldn't—”

“Because!” her firm voice interrupts him. “We keep hurting each other, and I honestly don’t think we'll ever stop. You’re stubborn and selfish, and I’m jealous, and we both jump to the worst conclusions about each other all the fucking time.”

Lando sighs, “Right,” he says after a pause, his voice laced with guilt. “I am stubborn and selfish,” he agrees, “I get angry too fast. Is that it? And you—you think I’m always looking for a reason to leave.”

Her breath catches as she looks down at a random point on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He steps much closer, his voice firm. “No. I’m not. But you make it so damn hard to stay sometimes.”

He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. He's aware that she's not the only one to blame for the situation that they're in, but at the moment, he's making it seem that way. He can't look at her hurt expression, so Lando closes his eyes for a second, a long silence settling in the distance dug so deeply between them.

She continues to look at him, anger flaring in her eyes. “Yeah, well, you make it hard to trust you, Lando. Every time you’re away, I feel like I’m waiting for the other bomb to drop.”

He finally opens his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you want from me, hm?” he asks. “I don't know what you expect me to do.”

Her voice breaks as she replies, “I don't have any expectations left. I just want to stop feeling like I’m losing you all the time.”

Lando’s face softens, the exhaustion from weeks of racing and months of fighting etched into every line. He steps closer, slowly, until he’s standing in front of her. He crouches down so they’re eye level, his expression conflicted.

Even as hurt as she is now, he is still amazed by her beauty. Gazing down at him, she spreads her legs gently so she could make more room for him in her space. However, she's doesn't dare to touch him, no matter how badly she needs to feel him, just to remind herself that he's real.

“I'm so fucking tired, baby,” says Lando, his voice breaking slightly. “Aren’t you tired?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Every day, especially when you're not here,” she chokes out. “But I still want to try. God, Lando, I can’t imagine not trying.”

His hands reach for hers almost instinctively, but he acts with the same hesitation, pulling back at the last second. She notices, the flicker of hurt on her face evident in the way she squeezes her eyes shut, only to erase that image from her memory.

They sit in silence for a while, the air thick with unresolved issues and the weight of everything they can’t say. He studies her, trying to think ahead, but it’s impossible when she's like this — indecisive and lost.

Finally, Lando stands up, exhaling sharply. “I need a shower,” he mutters, heading toward the bathroom without another word.

She watches him go, her heart sinking. She’s still here, but somehow, it feels like she’s further away from him than ever. All she wants to do is jump into his arms and tell him she's missed him so much these past few weeks. Tell him how much she loves him, and that she would do anything to see him happy and satisfied with their life together. But she's too far away, and if she doesn't jump high enough, she could find herself free-falling, with no one to catch her on the other side. And that's too much of a risk, even for her.

When Lando comes back, his hair damp and his expression unreadable, she’s standing by the window, looking out at the city lights.

She doesn’t turn when he approaches, but she speaks softly, her voice small. “Do you even want me here?”

Lando freezes, her question cutting deeper than he expects. After a long pause, he answers, his voice low. “Of course,” he says. “But I honestly don’t think it's a good idea.”

She finally turns to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah…” the girl nods slowly. “I just—Lando. I can’t keep doing this if I’m the only one who believes we can make it.”

Lando nods. “Thing is, I don't know what to believe anymore,” he says honestly, his voice steady.

A simple truth that neither of them wants to acknowledge. But even as the words hang in the air, neither of them moves to leave. Because for all the pain, there’s still something tethering them together — something they’re both terrified to lose.

“I’ll take the couch,” he finally says, tugging the throw blanket off the armrest. His voice is flat, drained of the emotion that had filled it earlier.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“You can have the bed,” he clarifies, avoiding her gaze as he starts arranging the blanket. “It’s late. We’re both tired, and this… we can’t fix this tonight. We should rest and talk it out in the morning.”

She opens her mouth to protest, the words forming instinctively, but then she stops herself. He looks so tired, not just physically but emotionally. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knows so well. He’s trying to create the space she's been asking for — not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.

“Okay,” she ends up saying, her voice small. Defeated. Once again.

At that, Lando turns to meet her eyes, his expression serious, almost distant. It’s a side of him she doesn’t see often, the version of Lando that’s careful and guarded. She hates it, hates the way it makes her feel like a stranger to him. But mostly, she hates that she’s the one who’s brought this out in him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, his voice tinged with a finality that makes her stomach churn.

Alright then.

“'Night,” she replies, walking past him, their arms touching lightly.

She retreats to his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. The familiar scent of him — clean, musky, intoxicating but soothing, grounding her with its quiet presence and making her feel more at home than ever — wraps around her as she crawls into the bed they’ve shared so many times before. But it feels different now, colder, emptier. Foreign, somehow.

For a stupid, silly moment, she lets herself believe that things will be okay in the morning. That they’ll talk, really talk, and find a way back to each other. She clings to that thought as she stares up at the ceiling, her fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. But no matter how hard she tries, she can't shake the feeling that this is it.

Neither of them sleeps for hours after that.

IT'S FOUR IN the morning when Lando lies on the couch, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling as his thoughts race. He can hear the faint creak of the bed when she shifts, knowing she's not asleep, either, and it tugs at something deep inside him. He’s never been good at leaving things unfinished, and this is no different.

He pushes himself up from the couch for what feels like the hundredth time, his fingers curling and uncurling in frustration.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come home.

Maybe this is exactly why they need space, because when they're in each other's proximity, he simply can't think straight. Especially when she's just a few feet away, separated by only a simple door.

A door that masks the sounds of her soft cry.

Then, he hears the same faint sound, broken, but unmistakable. It cuts through his doubts like a knife through butter, sending a sharp pang of guilt and something deeper, a lot darker, straight to his chest. He hesitates for only a moment before moving toward the bedroom, his steps careful, almost hesitant. His hand hovers over the door, his heart pounding against his ribs as he takes a deep breath in.

Lando knocks softly, his voice barely louder than the quiet hum of the apartment. “Is everything okay?”

Nothing.

He knocks again, his jaw tightening.

The silence presses against him, thick and suffocating, until he can’t take it anymore. He twists the knob and pushes the door open, his pulse roaring in his ears as his eyes adjust to the dim light.

She’s sprawled on his bed, the sheets tangled around her hips, one hand clenched in the fabric while the other moves between her thighs. Her head is tilted back, her lips parted in soft, shaky gasps, and her eyes are squeezed shut like she’s trying to block out the rest of the world.

His throat goes dry, his emotions colliding in a chaotic storm of shock, desire, and something dangerously close to anger. Not anger at her — it never is — but at the situation, at the rift between them that’s left her seeking comfort this way. And at himself, for not being able to fix it.

He should walk away. He knows he should. But instead, he steps into the room, his movements slow and calculated as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching her intently.

Her eyes snap open, and for a moment, she looks utterly petrified. Her cheeks flush a deep crimson as she scrambles to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she fumbles for words.

“No, don’t let me interrupt you,” says Lando, his voice low and rough.

“You scared the shit out of me, Lando,” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I thought you were…”

Asleep.

“And I thought you were crying,” he says, wetting his lips. “Well, I was right in a way.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and she looks away, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. He hates the way she shrinks under his gaze, but he can’t stop himself from taking another step forward. His jaw tightens again. He doesn’t know what to say or do, circling back to the same feeling.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel, either — hurt, anger, longing?

So much lust.

The silence stretches between them until it’s almost unbearable. And then, finally, she moves, swinging her legs off the bed like she’s about to leave.

But he doesn’t let her.

His hand shoots out, grabbing her ankle and tugging her back toward the edge of the bed. Her gasp echoes in the quiet room, her wide eyes locked on his as he steps between her legs, his grip firm but not forceful.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice shaky, a mix of uncertainty and... hope that she already knows the answer.

“Fuck if I know,” he admits. His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart again, and he drops to his knees in front of her. “But I can’t just… I can’t leave you like this.”

“Baby,” she breathes, her tone caught between a plea and a warning.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Please. I can't take this shit anymore.”

At the sound of his pleading, she reaches out, her fingers threading through his hair as her breath hitches. It’s all the permission he needs to press his lips to her warm entrance, soft and tentative at first, but when she arches into him, her body trembling beneath his touch, something inside him snaps.

Lando doesn’t hesitate once she gives in, her fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs tremble against his shoulders. His hands grip her legs, his touch firm but reverent, holding her open for him like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind.

The first swipe of his tongue over her slit is slow and deliberate, tasting her in a way that makes her breath hitch. He hums low in his throat, the vibration sending a shockwave through her that has her head falling back against the mattress.

“Lan…do,” her voice breaks on his name, a soft moan that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Always so sweet for me, love,” he exhales heavily, her scent intoxicating.

Lando's grip on her thighs tightens as he pulls her closer, his tongue moving with purpose now, circling her clit and flicking in a rhythm that makes her toes curl. The erotic sounds from between her legs make her close her eyes in pleasure, her pussy tightening around him with each intentional stroke of his tongue. He’s thorough, so meticulous, as though he’s trying to commit every whimper and every twitch of her body to memory.

“That's so good, Lan. Feels so good,” she lets out a string of moans, her eyes rolling as the air gets knocked out of her lungs. “Oh, god, I've missed your mouth so much.”

She traces her hand through his hair, holding him while her hips push forward, the bridge of his nose tickling her clit so sweetly. He wants to drown in her, to lose himself in the way she responds to him, every single time.

Each gasp feels like a lifeline, tethering him to something real, something he can hold on to when everything else feels so uncertain. Her fingers curl in his hair, tugging slightly as her hips begin to move against him, chasing the friction he so willingly gives. Lando's jaw clenches at the way she’s unraveling for him, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, more insistently, as he pulls out to suck gently on her clit.

“Baby, please,” she's almost crying, her voice shaky, but still cutting through the air like a plea for salvation. “Need you… so close.”

Lando doesn’t stop. He can’t. Especially not when her legs start to tremble against him, her breathing becoming erratic as she teeters on the edge. Instead, he slides one hand from her thigh to her hip, pressing her down slightly to keep her steady while his other hand moves swiftly to where he has been tongue-fucking her. His long fingers slide gently through her wetness, curling inside as he finds the spot that makes her see stars.

She feels herself opening wider for him, then clenching harder while he adds just enough pressure to make her body tense, his tongue never ceasing its rhythm.

“Lando, I—” her words dissolve into a broken moan, and he knows she’s close.

His heart pounds in his chest as he keeps going, the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of her pussy blending so beautifully with the noise of his tongue lapping at her clit. He doesn’t care how long it takes; he’ll stay between her thighs forever if he has to. He won't move again until she falls apart beneath him. For him. Maybe then Lando will understand why he needs her so much, why the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of himself.

When she comes, it’s like the world stops from spinning. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as she cries out his name, over and over again, her release washing over her in waves. He should pull out and give her time to ride out her orgasm, but his tongue and fingers coaxing her through it, making her gasp for another breath, is sending shocks of ecstasy to his hardened cock. In his desperate attempt to relieve his pain, he rubs himself against the bed, but it is not nearly enough.

Finally, when her hands are falling limply from his hair, that's when Lando slows down his movements. He presses soft kisses against her inner thighs as he pulls back slightly, his hands gently stroking her soft legs.

“You alright?” asks Lando, his voice raw.

She looks down at him, her chest heaving as their eyes meet. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, something that makes her throat tighten. His lips are swollen and glossy, his chin slick and glistening from her arousal. His breathing is as unsteady as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’s just run a marathon. The sight of him like this — completely undone and yet so devastatingly composed — makes her stomach clench with need. More need.

“Mhm,” she manages, heat rising from her chest to her cheeks, while her hand involuntarily travels back between her own legs.

Lando slowly wipes the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. The motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he wants her to remember every second of her high. Then he rises to his feet, his big frame towering over her as he leans forward, bracing himself on either side of her hips. Her breath catches as he hovers above her, so beautiful and wrecked, his face so close that she can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

She expects Lando to kiss her, her lips parting slightly in anticipation, but instead, he tilts his head and murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down her spine.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby,” his unfiltered voice makes her heart race in her chest. “I don’t care that we’re fighting. It doesn’t matter how tired I am,” he continues, his eyes dark and piercing as they lock onto hers. “I’ll stop anything, drop everything, just to fuck my needy girl, yeah?”

The bluntness of his words, paired with the raw intensity in his voice, leaves her momentarily speechless, the pads of her fingers collecting whatever is left from her release. She whimpers softly, her lips parting again as she brings her fingers to his, pushing inside his mouth while watching his pupils dilating. Lando sucks on them with the same thirst as earlier, biting softly when she tires to pull out. At that, something inside her snaps. She surges up, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she pulls him into a fierce, desperate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, slick with the taste of her still lingering there, and she can’t help the way she moans into his mouth. He groans in response, deep and guttural, as his tongue slides between her lips, claiming her in a way that makes her stomach flip.

It feels like fire and desperation, like he’s trying to pour all of his frustration into one single kiss. When his tongue moves against hers, she whimpers, the sensation achingly familiar yet entirely overwhelming. It feels like he’s everywhere, like he’s consuming her from the inside out, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Ever.

“Lan,” she moans into his mouth, “Please…”

Her pleading seem to break something in him. Lando pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, his lips curling into a slow, crooked grin, making her realize how bad she's missed seeing it. There’s something tender yet profoundly sad in his expression, though, a quiet heartbreak that makes her chest burn.

“Please, what? Hm, what do you need?” he murmurs, his hand tracing a soft, reverent path down her body.

His fingers graze her collarbone, her ribs, her hip, each touch filled with a tenderness that feels almost out of place amidst the heat between them. But she doesn’t care about the sadness or the hesitation. Not right now. She arches into his touch, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she's whispering nonsense, too drunk on him to make more sense than that.

Lando’s breath mingles with hers, his lips brushing hers in the faintest of kisses as he whispers, “You aching for me, baby?”

Her nod is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels it, and his hand slips down to her hip, grounding her. The weight of his touch is familiar, comforting even, and it sends a tremor through her body that she doesn’t try to hide.

“Hurts so bad,” she admits, her voice cracking as her eyes meet his.

“I know,” he nods slowly, his voice thick with emotion. “Can I me make it better?”

“Always.”

He presses his lips to hers fully now, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a balm against the ache between them. It starts soft, tentative, as if they’re testing the waters, but quickly grows deeper. His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip, and she opens for him, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with all the longing, irritation, and so much love that he’s been holding back.

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of her shirt — his shirt — and pushing it up, exposing her bare skin. She gasps as his palms graze her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through her veins.

Lando pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over her head, his eyes darkening as he takes her in. “My beautiful baby,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself that she still belongs to him and vice versa.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers tugging at the hem of his own shirt. He helps her, pulling it off in one fluid motion before pressing his chest against hers, their bare skin meeting in a way that feels like coming back home after a long, tiring trip.

They move together like this, slowly shedding the layers between them until there’s nothing left but their bodies and the weight of everything they've done wrong.

He lowers her onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he settles between her legs. The warmth of his body, the solidity of him, makes her feel anchored, even as the storm inside her threatens to consume her. And when he enters her, it’s heaven, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of her. She moans, her hands flying to his shoulders as he stretches her, filling her with his perfect length. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers as they both adjust to his size.

“Remember how easy it used to be?” he whispers.

She nods while his lips are brushing her temple. “Yeah. I remember.”

The first thrust is painfully slow, managing to pull a soft moan from her lips. But soon enough, Lando sets a rhythm, one that feels familiar, almost nostalgic, like they’re trying to recapture the simplicity of how things used to be. She matches him, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving together in perfect sync.

As the pace builds, so does the intensity and vulnerability between them. The kisses become messier, more desperate, and his thrusts deepen, driving into her with a force that feels like a mix of anger and love.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he says suddenly, his voice cracking as her nails dig into his back, leaving crimson lines in their wake.

“No?” she asks, a little hesitant.

His movements falter for a split second before he recovers, his eyes locking onto hers. “God. No, baby,” he says, his voice thick with determination. “We can fix this. I swear we can.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she can see his own glistening in the obscure lighting. They’re both breaking, and yet neither of them wants to let go.

Lando thrusts harder now, the force of it making her cry out as her body arches beneath him. She meets him halfway, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulls him deeper inside her, as close as humanly possible. The room fills with the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other, their breathing, and their muffled cries.

“I need you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the rush of their movements. “Like this, all the time. Only you.”

“You have me,” he replies, his voice breaking. “You’ll always have me, you know that.”

“Promise me,” she demands as she starts clenching around him, the heat building once again inside her.

Lando gasps at the feeling, fucking into her harder. “Shit, baby. I promise you. I promise.”

The weight of his words pushes her over the edge, her release hitting her harder the second time around. She cries out, tears streaming down her face as her body shakes beneath him. He follows moments later, his own climax tearing through him as he buries his face in her neck, his shoulders trembling with the force of it.

They stay like that, tangled together, their bodies molding into each other as they come down from the high. But the tears don’t stop. They cling to each other, crying softly as the reality of their situation crashes down on them.

“I love you so much,” he says, feeling her fingers tracing patterns on his back.

“I love you, too,” she admits without hesitation. “Do you think that's enough?”

Lando lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed but full of a tentative hope. “No. But it's a start.”

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thesecondhandwoman · 6 months ago

Note

Going off of the injured Ambessa ask, could you do something where the reader is injured. But their a soldier so it’s really bad and their trying to play it off but Ambessa can tell it’s bad. (Maybe throw in a little hidden injury and “who did this to you?)

if your not up for it I completely understand

-🧚

HIDDEN INJURIES

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You were one of Ambessa’s Noxian soldiers, and the favorite one of them all. However, when you got injured and struggled to hide it, you thought that might title change.

Request: Anon 🤍

The night air was thick with the scent of Noxus and its empire, the distant hum of a city brimming with life. Meanwhile, you did not feel the same life that the other people shared.

You leaned against the stone wall of the barracks, doing your best to steady yourself, breathe shallow, heart hammering beneath your ribs. Your fingers lingered over the bandage, already stained with the remnants of blood that had dried too quickly. The injury was deeper than you’d let on, an ugly gash that cut across your lower abdomen after a clash with a particularly vicious opponent. You’d tended to it as best as you could, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.

The last few days had been a blur of dull pain and the stubbornness that coursed through your veins, a soldier’s pride that insisted you didn’t need help. You knew what Ambessa expected of you, what she needed you to be: strong, steady, and reliable.

You were her pet, her favored soldier, and above all, you couldn’t let that slip away dimpling because she sees your weakness. Not now. Not ever.

But that was growing harder to do.

With a grimace, you pushed off the wall and staggered back into the fortress, your movements stiff and slow, each step a reminder of how much the injury had begun to rot beneath the surface. You’d tried to hide it, kept it covered up, but something had gone wrong. The infection was spreading now, a subtle ache in your bones, a fever that coursed through your veins, making your body feel like it was being consumed by fire.

You hadn’t been able to hide it from Ambessa for long.

She was waiting for you in her chambers, reclining on a plush chaise, the shadows of candlelight casting an amber glow over her striking features. Her eyes, those fierce golden orbs, flicked up when you entered, and for a brief moment, the sharpness softened.

“Come here,” she beckoned with a subtle wave of her hand, her voice like velvet. She knew something was off, something subtle in the way you moved, the way you tried to stand straighter than you could, the way you winced when your side brushed the doorframe.

You swallowed hard, but obediently stepped toward her.

Ambessa’s eyes narrowed slightly, always keen to the smallest detail. She was no stranger to seeing soldiers in various states of pain. You weren’t the first one she’d taken an interest in, though you were the only one who seemed to matter to her in such a way. Her gaze lingered on you with concern, but her lips curled into a smirk as if to mask the worry creeping in. She raised an eyebrow, studying you, her gaze unwavering.

“Are you sure you’re well?” she asked, the softness of her voice belying the tension that was steadily rising in the room.

You hesitated, your chest tightening at the thought of her disappointment. “I’m fine, truly. It’s just a scratch,” you lied, the words tasting sour on your tongue.

She didn’t believe you for a second. Her eyes softened as she stood up and walked toward you, her footsteps like whispers on the stone floor. As she approached, you could feel her presence like a tangible thing, comforting yet demanding, a force to be reckoned with.

Without warning, her hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You tensed, a sharp breath catching in your throat. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, could sense the trembling beneath your skin.

“You’ve been hiding something from me,” she murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum. Her thumb stroked lightly over the muscle of your shoulder, sending a shiver through your body. “I could hear it in your voice. Practically feel it radiating off of you.”

You bit the inside of your lip, trying not to show the frustration and guilt that bubbled up. “It’s nothing,” you said, forcing the words to sound as normal as you could. “I’ll recover. No need to—”

“Let me see it,” she interrupted, her voice no longer a request but an order.

Your eyes darted down, and for a moment, you felt a surge of panic. You knew she could be patient, but when she wanted something, she didn’t let it go. Slowly, you reached for the sides of your tunic, fingers fumbling for the fabric that hid the injury.

Ambessa didn’t speak, only stood quietly, watching you with those steady, unwavering eyes as you pulled the fabric up. When you turned slightly to expose the injury on your side, she took in the sight of the angry, red, infected wound with a sharp intake of breath.

“Gods, how long has this been festering?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous now, the tenderness gone. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the injury, and you flinched, unable to keep the hiss of pain from escaping.

You tried to hide it, tried to play it off as you always did. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll be fine.”

Ambessa’s gaze turned hard, and for the first time in days, you saw the faint flicker of worry behind her gaze. Her hand was soft on your skin, but the concern in her eyes was sharp, like a blade waiting to cut through your excuses.

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, her fingers now tracing the ugly colored skin around the wound that was farther from the edges, careful but firm. “You should have come to me sooner. You’re not as invincible as you force yourself to be.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you let the facade slip. The pain, the fatigue, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came crashing down. But Ambessa didn’t let you fall. She stepped closer, her presence grounding you, like she always did when you needed her most.

“You’ll need help, this wound is far too infected,” she said, her tone brokering no argument. “Meaning you will rest for some time and take a break from your duties for me, hm?”

You were too tired to argue. Too tired to fight against the kindness you didn’t deserve. Slowly, you nodded, letting her help you remove the rest of your tunic. She gently pressed you back onto the bed, her hands so soft, yet somehow so strong. You felt her steady gaze on you as she began to clean the wound, carefully, expertly, removing the infected tissue with practiced hands.

Her voice, as soft as a lullaby, hummed in your ear. “I don’t want to hear about you being ‘fine’ again. You’re mine now, and when you’re mine, I take care of what’s mine. Understood?”

Her fingers were gentle, the motions slow and deliberate, as if every action was designed to keep you grounded. Despite the pain of her tending to the injury, you felt your body relax into her touch, the feverish burn inside of you easing just a little.

“Yes, I understand,” you whispered, your voice a fragile thing.

“Good.” Her voice was low and approving as she finished cleaning the wound and began bandaging it with care. “Now, rest. I’ll stay with you until you’re better, little one.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, but her presence kept you tethered, warm and solid. For the first time in days, you let yourself fall into that comfort, that fragile space between pain and safety.

As she finished tending to you, her fingers lingering on your skin with a soft caress, you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“Let me take care of you now,” Ambessa murmured, her voice a soft promise. “No more pretending. Not here.”

And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you didn’t have to be the soldier anymore. Not in her presence. Not when you were with her.

A/N: Sorry that this is so short, I tried to expand it and it just turned into an absolute mess. So I shortened it down just to realize how much I shortened it. But either way, I hope that you liked it and it was okay (if not, I’ll definitely give it another shot)

#ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #ambessa fanfic #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #hurt/comfort fanfic #hurt/comfort #hidden injury fanfic #hidden injury #fanfic #fanfic writing

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shadowkoo · 3 months ago

Text

Did You Miss Me?

→ Summary: Chan surprises you when he comes home early from his trip, waking you in the sweetest way. But as the night unfolds, it becomes pretty clear that you’re definitely more than just roommates.

↠ bang chan x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+ ↠ genre: fluffy smut, roommates au, friends to lovers

→ Prompts: #31. "Did you miss me?"

→ Warnings: unprotected sex, soft sex, oral (female receiving), body worship, praise, slight dry humping, chan is determined to show you how much he wants loves you, he like to call you pet names like dove, multiple orgasms, no real major warnings kinda just fluffy smut lol (wow how rare of me)

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries

→ Author Note: Thank you for requesting anon! Learn more about my mini requests here. Also a big thanks to Thea @yoongihan for beta editing this for me <3 As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3 divider credit

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You sigh, checking your phone once more (the tenth time in the past five minutes), willing a notification to appear. But your screen remains stubbornly blank, mocking you with its silence.

Chan was supposed to text once he landed, but hours have passed, and still no word from him. He’d been visiting his family for the past week and was returning home tonight. You’d planned to stay up, wanting to be awake when he walked through the door, to ask him how his break was. But as the time creeps closer to midnight, your eyelids grow heavy by the minute, and the cozy warmth of your couch makes staying awake feel impossible.

As much as you’ve enjoyed the past few days of having the apartment to yourself, something felt off. Maybe it’s been the way it’s too quiet, too clean.

Something’s missing. Him.

You bury yourself deeper into the oversized black sweatshirt you stole from him before he’d left. Well, technically, you borrowed it on a chilly night and haven’t given it back yet, but it’s been long enough that you’re semi-confident that it’s a permanent acquisition. The sleeves swallow your hands, the hood flopping over half your face, cocooning you in familiar comfort. It faintly smells just like him, warm, clean, and just a little bit like citrus from the fancy shampoo he swears he doesn’t use.

At some point, without really meaning to, you fell for him. Hard.

Maybe it’s the way his laughter lingers in the air even after he’s left the room, the way he always saves you the last slice of pizza even though you know he wanted it for himself, the way he never complains when you steal his hoodies, even though he absolutely notices.

And you’re pretty sure he likes you back. Like, 99% sure.

But that lingering 1%? That tiny, infuriating sliver of doubt? It’s enough to keep you from doing anything courageous, like admitting that you’ve been secretly crushing on him. You’re too afraid to make the first move, just in case it all blows up in your face. In case he only sees you as a friend. Or worse, as just a roommate.

God, you really, really hope that’s not the case.

At some point, your exhaustion wins, and you drift off without realizing it. You don’t hear the soft click of the door unlocking or Chan’s quiet footsteps as he comes inside.

He exhales, shaking off the lingering weariness from his delayed flights. Kicking his shoes off, he drops his bag by the door before stepping further inside. The apartment is dimly lit from the streetlights, the soft glow filtering in through the curtains. Then, he sees you.

You’re curled up on the couch, nestled in his sweatshirt, your face half-hidden beneath the hood, breathing slowly.

His heart pounds at the sight.

Chan planned to surprise you by coming home early, hence why he didn’t text you back. But fate had other ideas; his flight was delayed not once, but twice tonight. The dinner reservations were long past. The flowers he bought were starting to look a little sad.

But none of that matters now. Not when he was standing in front of you, watching you sleep so peacefully.

He had decided on day two of being home that he missed you badly. That the apartment, his routines, even his favorite coffee shop, all felt off without you in them. And somewhere between the restless nights, long days, and delayed flights he realized something else.

He wasn’t just missing his friend, his roommate.

He was missing you, the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.

Chan was planning to tell you that tonight, along with all the other words he’d left unsaid for far too long.

After gently setting down the bouquet of soft, pastel and white colored flowers, he kneels beside the couch.

Carefully, he lifts the edge of the hood covering your face, pushing it back. The warmth in his chest grows as you stir, slowly waking up. Your brow scrunches slightly before your eyelids flutter open, widening when you realize he’s in front of you.

He smiles. God, you’re perfect.

“Hi, dove,” he murmurs softly. “Did you miss me?”

Still caught in the hazy lull of sleep, you loop your arms around his neck as you pull him down onto you, pressing yourself into his warmth like you never want to let go.

“Mmm, so much,” you confess, your voice thick with drowsiness, and the honesty slips past your lips before you even realize it.

Chan freezes for half a second before melting into your embrace, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you just as tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing the softest kiss against your skin. “Because I missed you more.”

He pulls back as his fingers graze along your jaw, tilting your chin up to guide you toward him. Chan’s touch is gentle, his thumb brushes over your skin like he’s memorizing this moment. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, hazy with sleepiness and something softer, something that makes his heart race.

Before he can think better of it, he leans in again. This time he closes the space between you with a long-awaited kiss.

His lips press against yours tentatively at first, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it becomes something that can’t be taken back.

But you don’t. You won’t.

Instead, you sigh into him as your arms tighten around his shoulders, like you’re afraid this is a dream and he’ll disappear.

Your hands grip his beanie and tug it off without a second thought. You toss it somewhere—anywhere—because all you care about is threading your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly at the soft strands you’ve been dying to touch for longer than you care to admit.

Chan groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating between you. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat coils low in your stomach, setting every nerve on fire.

He moves without thinking, climbing over you, pressing you deeper into the couch cushions as he molds himself against you. His body fits perfectly against yours, warm and solid, as if he were always meant to be there.

His grip slides down to your waist, fingers tightening like he needs to hold onto something real, something grounding, as he shifts closer. And then, god, he rolls his hips down against yours, a teasing friction that steals the breath from your lungs.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. Chan exhales sharply, like he’s barely holding himself together, which sends a thrill through you.

He’s so familiar, yet right now, he feels like something entirely new. Something you’ve wanted for a while.

The kiss deepens, his tongue traces along yours, tasting you, learning you. It’s slow but searing, a quiet confession wrapped in every press of your lips, every lingering touch that’s shared.

There’s no more uncertainty. It’s just you and him, tangled together in the quiet of your apartment, finally giving in.

Chan leans in again, lips brushing over yours, voice barely above a whisper, “Tell me you want this too.”

You nod, knowing there’s no going back.

Thank god.

Your hands trail down his firm back, fingers exploring the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Needing more, you tug at the hem, silently asking for it to go.

Chan pulls back just enough to strip it off, tossing it aside. His gaze drops to you, dark yet soft, and then he’s helping you out of yours, the one you’ve practically lived in since he left.

He temporarily forgets to breathe when he realizes you’re bare beneath it.

A low, appreciative sound rumbles in his chest as his fingers lightly trace over your skin. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something heady, something possessive.

Then his lips are on you again, trailing down the curve of your neck. He leaves a path of open-mouthed kisses that make you shiver while his hands skim your sides, mapping the dips and curves of your body like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s waited too long for this moment to rush through it.

He pauses just above your breasts, his breath warm against your skin. Looking up, he asks a silent question with his eyes, waiting for permission.

You give him a small nod, tilting your head back in anticipation.

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

His mouth closes around the soft peak of your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, drawing a gasp from your lips. The heat of it sends a rush of pleasure straight through you, making your fingers tighten in his hair.

His other hand moves to your other breast, kneading gently, his thumb circling and teasing in tandem with his mouth. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your skin, making your body arch into his touch, desperate for more.

Chan lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice a velvety rasp against your skin.

Then he lowers his mouth again, determined to worship every inch of you.

Chan doesn’t rush. He never does, but definitely not tonight, not with you.

He switches sides, his mouth leaving a wet trail as he latches onto your other breast, giving it just as much attention as the first. His tongue flicks over the sensitive peak before he sucks gently, pulling a soft moan from your lips.

You writhe beneath him, your back arching into his warmth, silently begging for more. He groans against your skin at the way you respond to him.

When he feels like you can’t take anymore of his teasing, his lips begin their descent, leaving a slow, burning trail of kisses down your stomach. His tongue sneaking out every so often to taste you, to savor the way your skin shivers under his attention. His hands smooth over your sides as he moves lower and lower, until he reaches the waistband of your sweatpants.

Chan pauses, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. His fingers hook into the band, dragging it down just slightly, just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“You’re already so needy for me, dove,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something dark and addictive.

You don’t get the chance to respond before he tugs your sweatpants down in one fluid motion, helping you out of them with ease.

And then he sees it.

The damp patch coating the thin fabric of your panties.

Chan sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching as his fingers ghost over the evidence of your arousal, his touch barely there but just enough to make you squirm. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with unspoken promises.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw with restraint. “Look at you…”

He presses a teasing kiss just above the wet spot, whispering against you, “I need to taste you.”

“Please, Channie,” you whimper, your voice laced with desperation. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him closer. “I want you to.”

A deep groan escapes his lungs. He loves the way you plead for him, the way his nickname sounds falling from your pretty lips.

His fingers find their way between your thighs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties. He rubs slow circles over your aching core, teasing you, testing you, driving you to the edge before he’s even truly begun. The sensation sends another shudder through you, and when your moan spills into the air, it intertwines with his own.

“Anything for you, dove,” he breathes, his voice thick with devotion and desire.

Chan hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, gently dragging them down your legs. He takes his time, savoring every inch he reveals, watching as you tremble beneath him.

Then he sees all of you.

He sucks in a breath, his pupils blown wide with hunger as he drinks in the sight of your slick, glistening folds. He swallows hard as his arousal painfully strains against his pants, twitching at the mere thought of tasting you.

Lowering himself between your thighs, he presses soft kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his lips barely grazing where you need him most. The anticipation is maddening, and he knows that he has you squirming. He smirks as your hips instinctively tilt toward him, silently begging.

He chuckles, but obliges.

Chan’s nose nuzzles against your swollen, needy clit. As he breathes you in, his own restraint hangs by a thread. His tongue delves into your slick heat, firmly parting you as he groans into you, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure straight through your core.

You cry out his name, your back arching off the couch. Your nails dig into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as waves of pleasure crash over you.

Chan tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you open as he’s determined to make you fall apart beneath him. He’s waited to fucking long for this.

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl, you voice becoming shaky. “Chan, I’m gonna come.”

His chest swells with pride, impressed at how quickly he’s unraveled you. He’s barely touched you, and yet here you are just about to fall apart for him.

“That’s it, dove,” he rasps against your slick skin, his tongue relentless, pushing you right over the edge. “Let go for me.”

Your body tenses before shattering into pure pleasure. Waves of ecstasy wash over you as you cry out his name. He groans as he feels you come undone against his mouth, your release coating his tongue. Hot, sweet, and so intoxicating.

Chan doesn’t stop, not until he’s wrung every last drop from you, his tongue lapping up the remnants of your pleasure, drinking you in like he’s starving. He finally lets up once you're a quivering mess beneath him.

He sits up, satisfaction glinting in his darkened eyes as he admires your flushed skin, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Especially the dazed, blissed-out look on your face.

Fucking breathtaking.

You don’t give him long to revel in his work before you sit up to face him. Your fingers grip the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. You don’t care that you can taste yourself on his lips; in fact, it only fuels the fire burning between you.

Your hands slide down his toned stomach, finding the waistband of his pants. With a teasing tug, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes wide, lips parted, pure temptation in your expression.

“I want to return the favor,” you murmur, voice still heavy with the remnants of your pleasure.

Chan groans, his head falling forward, his resolve hanging by a thread. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your swollen lips as he exhales a shaky breath.

“Dove,” he rasps, his voice straining with need, “as much as I’d love that, I need to be inside you.”

Your lips curl into a playful, breathy giggle. “Even better.”

Without another word, you push his pants and briefs down in one smooth motion, freeing him, finally seeing him in all his aching glory.

And fuck, you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Chan positions himself at your entrance, his tip teasing your slick heat for just long enough to make you shiver with anticipation. But he’s too desperate to feel you, to claim you.

With one smooth thrust, he buries himself deep inside you. He fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your fingers digging into his arms as a broken moan falls from your lips.

“Shit,” Chan groans, his forehead dropping against yours as he fights to steady himself. “So tight…so perfect for me.”

He rolls his hips, setting a slow rhythm, his thick length dragging against your walls in a way that has your toes curling. His body trembles with restraint, every muscle tense as he battles the overwhelming urge to let go, to ruin you right here and now. But he knows better, there will be plenty of time to fuck you into the couch like there’s no tomorrow.

Right now, he wants to savor this moment.

Chan nuzzles into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he exhales shakily. A hand grips your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts again. His cock brushes against that divine spot inside you, causing you to let out a sharp gasp.

“Chan, ohmygod,” you whine, your voice breathy and ultimately wrecked. “Feels so good,”

He lifts his head, his dark, lust-blown eyes locking onto yours as a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Yeah?” His voice drips with affection and need. He rolls his hips again, slower this time, ensuring his thick head hits that perfect spot with maddening precision. “Then let me make it even better, dove.”

Chan’s grip moves to your thigh, his fingers press into your heated skin as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. The shift sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

Your breath stutters, a strangled moan spilling out as white-hot pleasure floods your senses. His name falls from your mouth like a mantra, broken and breathless, as the coil inside you winds up impossibly tight. Then it snaps.

A cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, your body trembling. The intensity leaves you breathless, your head tipping back as you succumb to the sheer bliss of Bang Chan.

Chan watches you with hooded eyes, mesmerized by the way you fall apart beneath him. His control is slipping, unraveling with every squeeze of your walls around his cock. His lips reattach to yours, swallowing your moans as your fingers dig into his sweat-slicked skin.

He groans, his rhythm faltering as he feels you tighten around him, gripping him so perfectly. He clenches his jaw, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts through your orgasm, chasing his own.

“Shit, baby. I’m—”

Chan’s voice breaks into a strangled moan as he finally tumbles over the edge. He buries himself deep, his release spilling inside you. His body shudders against yours, every muscle trembling with the force of his pleasure.

Completely spent, he collapses onto you, his weight warm and comforting as you both catch your breath, your bodies still tangled together in the aftermath. For a moment, you lay there wrapped in each other, the only sound filling the room is your mingled, steadying breaths.

Chan shifts slightly to press soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. His lips are warm and tender against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. And then he whispers something that makes your heart swell.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity.

Your lips curl into a smile, warmth spreading through your chest. Before you can respond, he adds teasingly, “But just so you know… I will be confiscating my favorite sweatshirt back from you.”

You let out a sleepy giggle, fingers lazily tracing patterns along his back.

“Good luck with that.”

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aimfor-theheart · 5 months ago

Note

mafia au with bodyguard vi i am gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

anon i’m trying to distract myself on this flight so here take this little drabble bc i can’t get bodyguard!vi out of my mind 😖

***

You laze at your vanity, languid like a cat; taking your time to get ready. Your hair is half undone. You’re still in your sheer, dark tights and bra—some jewelry hanging from your bare skin, some still scattered on the vanity in front of you. Your martini glass gleams alongside the pearls in the lowlight of your bedroom.

You’re powdering your face when someone knocks.

“Come in,” You say, despite your state of undress.

When Vi enters, you catch her eyes in the reflection of your vanity mirror.

She curses a little, averting her gaze. You smile, slow and mischievous.

“You know, usually when people are undressed, they don’t tell someone to stroll into their bedroom.” Vi remarks.

“Oh, but I knew it was you.” You respond innocently.

She huffs a bit of a laugh. You see a muscle feather in her jaw. She’s still looking away from you, but there’s something in her face—it lurks around the edges of her expression, like she’s trying to keep it hidden.

(Hunger looks good on her.)

“I’m your bodyguard, princess. I should be standing outside your door while you get ready like this.” She says and you’ve found that she likes to tell you about what she should do with you. She likes to tell you what’s proper, as you lure her into something improper.

“Oh, relax. Have a drink, would you?” You retort, lifting your martini glass to her in the mirror as if to demonstrate. You take a sip, lemon twist and flowery gin hit your tongue in a cool burst. “I wanted company while I finish getting ready.”

She lets go of a hard sigh. “You’re trying to get me killed. Your father would have my head.”

“Good thing he’s not around tonight, then.” You hum, finally returning to your preening and powdering.

“Would you at least put on some clothes for me?” Vi asks the ceiling and really it’s almost—funny, how chivalrous she’s trying to be. Gentlemanly. She still hasn’t looked your way.

Well, that won’t do.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy.” You coo, finally turning from the mirror to face her. “Not with your reputation…”

She barks out a laugh.

“I’m being paid to protect you.” Vi reiterates and you think, at this point, she’s reminding herself more than you.

“So you can’t keep me company while I get ready?” You ask sweetly.

Her eyes cut to you before she can stop herself, a flash of blue lighting. When she takes you in, it’s with a hitched breath. Her eyes skip down the curves of your body. She looks away again.

“You’re not sly, sweetheart. I know your game.” Vi says, dragging a hand through her hair, tousling it further.

You let go of an overdramatic sigh, “Fine, fine. I’ll dress.”

And with that, you saunter to your wardrobe, where the slinky little dress you’ll be wearing tonight hangs. It’s midnight purple, shimmering like dark water at night. You pull it from the hanger and carefully slip it on. But in the back, it hangs open, zipper undone.

Your eyes cut to Vi—she’s still turned away and you trace the broad lines of her back. The sliver of her tattoo that starts at the nape of her neck.

“Vi,” You say her name so lightly, “will you help me?”

When she looks at you, it’s of the open back of your dress, all your bare skin and the silk. The lacy back of your bra—the shadow of your matching panties beneath the tights. You peek over your shoulder demurely.

Vi swallows hard.

But still, she approaches. Her footsteps are slow, heavy. And then she’s behind you and you can almost feel her, feel her warmth. You stay perfectly still for her—waiting, breath held—

The touch of her fingers against the bare skin of your lower back makes your lashes flutter. She takes the zipper in hand. With her other hand, she smoothes the fabric of the dress, palm open against the curve of your waist.

Slowly, she pulls the zipper up along your spine.

When she’s done, she settles that hand on your waist, too. Holds you.

“You’re such trouble.” She murmurs, squeezes a little into the soft give of your hips.

“I just needed your help.” You say, bedroom soft.

This little, frustrated groan works its way out of her throat. Your stomach flips, thinking of what it might sound against your throat, or inner thighs. She hangs her head and for a moment, you think she might close the rest of the distance, might let her lips fall to the nape of your neck, or press her chest all against your back—

Instead, she’s gone. Hands off you, held up like she’s trying to show she’s innocent, as she takes a few steps away from you.

She sinks into one of your loveseats—the one that faces the vanity.

“Finish getting ready, princess.”

And for once, you listen to her. You finish pinning your hair. You finish your makeup and add your jewelry. You drink the rest of your martini, the warmth of alcohol hitting you sweet and hot, somewhere in your chest.

When you’re finished, you nudge your stocking clad foot in her direction.

She knows, instantly and moves to you. She eases to one knee, and takes one of your heels in hand. She pulls your foot into her lap, then she deftly eases the shoe onto your foot. She buckles the strap around your ankle dutifully. She does the other one with the same, methodical devotion.

She looks up at you from her knees, your ankle still held in her rough palm. “Happy?” She asks.

“Endlessly.” Your smile is a cat’s curve, a crescent moon.

“You’re so spoiled.” Vi says, adjusting the strap of your heel, so it sits perfectly.

“I like to be taken care of, that’s all.” You say primly.

She snorts at that, and squeezes your ankle in her strong hand. “Princess?” She says, eyes dark and imploring, looking up at you—

It’s such a good look on her. Like this, on her knees.

“Hm?”

She stands slowly, now towering over you. You slowly tip your head back to look up at her. And she even takes your chin in hand, makes you hold her eyes.

“Don’t run off tonight.” She warns.

Your smile turns sharp—eyes dancing with mischief.

“But you always did love a good chase.”

(Hunger looks good on her.)

#lil troublemaker reader…..#lil forbidden fruit…..#you know how it goes #vi x reader #cielo writes!#cielo chats!

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winwintea · 5 months ago

Text

tetris

PAIRING ↬ gamer!park jisung x fem!reader (feat. zhong chenle)

TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, some angst, hidden feelings, 80s au, video game competitions, unrequited love or so he thought, best friend's girlfriend trope, winwin shows up randomly i love you my winsung anon

SUMMARY ↬ living up to the pressures of becoming a famous tetris player might be hard for a guy like park jisung. but it's much more difficult when the girl he’s got a crush on may actually be his best friend's girlfriend.

WORD COUNT ↬ 10.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ happy birthday queen @viasdreams !!! hope you enjoy as much as i had writing this (i suffered) and thank you to @polarisjisung for usual for being my beta reader <33. also i know tetris came out late 80s and was popular during the early 90s too but for aesthetic purposes im saying 80s

PLAYLIST ↬ saturday night - bay city rollers; tetoris - hiiragi magnetite; jessie’s girl - rick springfield; working for the weekend - loverboy; shoot to thrill - ac/dc; don’t play games - martin jensen; i’m still standing - elton john; cherry bomb - the runaways; hold on tight - aespa; one way or another - blondie; i ran - a flock of seagulls; choose your fighter - ava max

THE FIRST TIME PARK JISUNG PLACED HIS HANDS ON AN ARCADE MACHINE, HE WAS HOOKED.

When he felt the rough texture of the joystick, he felt a tremor in his chest. It wasn’t fear, nor excitement, but something in between. The flicker of the screen pulled him into a world he didn’t yet understand but felt desperate to explore.

The arcade around him was alive, buzzing with the electric hum of machines, the crash of digital waves, and the clatter of coins. Yet, in this moment, all the chaos faded into one singular thing: the falling blocks on the screen.

His fingers hovered over the controls, trembling. When they pressed down, the buttons responded with a slight resistance that grounded him, pulled him into the world on the screen. The joystick was smoother than he expected, gliding under his unsure grip. The first piece—a long, yellow bar—fell into place. Then another. And another.

For Jisung, the world seemed to shift with each line he cleared. These weren’t just blocks; they were each a piece of himself, shifting and rearranging to fit into something bigger. Each ping from the machine was a quiet reassurance, telling him that for once, he was doing something right.

The weight of his usual insecurities were being lifted, then replaced by an unfamiliar confidence. His heart raced, not from anxiety but from a kind of joy he didn’t think he was allowed to feel. This machine didn’t care about how shy he was, how awkward his words sounded, or how he tended to shrink away when the world got too loud. All it asked was that he see the shapes, find the patterns, and keep going.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he’d found something. A purpose.

Jisung didn’t think of himself as anything special, and most of the time, neither did anyone else. He was the kind of person who slipped into a room without making a sound, his lanky frame perpetually hunched as if apologizing for taking up space. His dark hair often fell into his eyes, a convenient shield against the world’s attention. At school, he was known only as “that tall, quiet kid.” Teachers liked him for his politeness. Classmates tolerated him for his unobtrusiveness.

His best friend, Chenle, was the exact opposite. The sun to Jisung’s shadow, always shining and dragging Jisung into the light whether he wanted it or not. When Jisung hesitated, Chenle jumped in headfirst, loud and full of laughter. Their friendship didn’t make sense to most people, least of all Jisung, but somehow it worked.

“C’mon, slowpoke!” Chenle called over his shoulder, his voice easily cutting through the noise of the crowded street. “Pixel Haven’s gonna get packed if you don’t move!”

Jisung trailed a few steps behind, his hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. Friday nights at the arcade were a tradition Chenle had started months ago, and Jisung tagged along because… well, because it was Chenle. He didn’t really play the games. Watching Chenle dominate the machines or charm the employees was enough for him.

Pixel Haven came into view, its neon sign glowing pink and blue against the dim evening sky. Inside, the arcade was a sensory overload of flashing lights, cheerful 8-bit melodies, and the unmistakable clink of coins being fed into machines.

Chenle pushed open the door, holding it wide. “Hurry up, man! They got a new game in!”

Jisung shuffled inside, his head immediately dropping down to look at his sneakers. Even though the arcade was bustling with busy teenagers, he felt like every pair of eyes could land on him at any moment. He stuck close to Chenle, who bounded ahead like an excited puppy.

The arcade was Chenle’s kingdom. He knew everyone. He always high-fived the regulars, playfully bantered with his street fighter competitors, and was always trying to introduce someone to Jisung. But Jisung was content being a silent observer, finding a quiet corner to lean against while Chenle made his rounds.

Unfortunately for Jisung, Chenle had other plans.

“Hey, Jisung, check this out!” Chenle pointed to the brand new Tetris machine, it’s screen cycling through vividly colored blocks. “Bet you’d be good at this.”

Jisung blinked at the machine, his lanky frame stiffening as if the suggestion were a spotlight being aimed at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Before Jisung could protest, Chenle shoved a quarter into his hand and practically dragged him toward the machine. The crowd around it thinned slightly, making space as Chenle announced, “Alright, people, make way for my boy here. Jisung’s about to show you how it’s done.”

Jisung’s ears burned as a few heads turned toward him. He could already feel the weight of their eyes, his anxiety prickling at the edges of his mind. “Chenle, I—”

“Stop overthinking,” Chenle interrupted, patting his shoulder. “Just play. I promise, you’ll love it.”

Jisung stared at the glowing screen. The cheerful music beckoned him, the falling shapes almost hypnotic. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, sliding the quarter into the slot. The machine chimed, and the first piece appeared at the top of the screen.

Although this was his first time, the controls felt familiar. The buttons responded with a satisfying click to his every touch, the joystick smooth under his palm. He hesitated for a split second before rotating the first piece and sending it down. It clicked into place.

Then another piece came, and another. His fingers moved instinctively, rotating, shifting, dropping. The lines started clearing, one after the other, and the game's upbeat sounds grew more frequent.

The world around him faded, the noise of the arcade blending into a dull hum. His focus sharpened, each piece fitting perfectly into a strategy that seemed to form effortlessly in his mind. Shapes became patterns, and patterns became solutions.

“Holy shit. He’s actually good,” someone murmured behind him.

“Good? Are you kidding? He’s crushing it!” Chenle exclaimed, his voice cutting through the growing excitement.

Jisung didn’t register their words, his eyes fixed on the screen. The pace quickened, the pieces falling faster, but he kept up. His long fingers danced over the controls, rotating pieces with precision and dropping them into place. A four-line clear flashed on the screen—a Tetris—and the small crowd erupted into cheers.

Jisung blinked, momentarily snapping out of his trance. He looked over his shoulder, startled by the group that had formed behind him. Chenle was at the front, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Keep going!” Chenle yelled. “You’re on fire!”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jisung’s lips, the rare feeling of pride warming his chest. He turned back to the game, determined to see how far he could go.

For the next few minutes, Jisung played like he was in a world of his own, the lines stacking and clearing in rapid succession. When the inevitable “Game Over” finally flashed on the screen, a ripple of applause broke out behind him.

Jisung stepped back, his cheeks flushed, his heart racing. Chenle clapped him on the back, his laugh loud and contagious. “What did I tell you? Tetris wiz, right here!”

Jisung glanced at the score on the screen—higher than he’d expected, but the number barely mattered. For the first time, he felt like he belonged, like he’d found something he was actually good at.

And judging by the awed looks from the small crowd, they thought so too.

Jisung didn’t know much about you, other than the obvious. You worked the counter at Pixel Haven most nights, moving between tasks with effortless ease. Always handing out quarters, fixing the occasional glitchy machine, and keeping the arcade running smoothly. And, of course, you were Chenle’s girlfriend. That part was impossible to miss.

Chenle had introduced you once, casually slinging his arm around your shoulders as he bragged about beating the high score on Galaga. Jisung remembered offering a small, awkward wave while you smiled politely, your attention more on Chenle than him. Since then, you’d only been a background presence, someone Jisung saw but never really thought about.

Until tonight.

He’d run out of quarters after his third Tetris run and found himself lingering near the counter, clutching a few crumpled bills in his clammy hands. Chenle was off challenging someone at Street Fighter again, leaving Jisung on his own.

You were busy at the counter, sorting a handful of tokens while chatting with another customer. The neon glow from the sign above cast soft shadows across your face, and for a moment, Jisung hesitated. Asking you for change felt… strange. You weren’t just the person behind the counter. You were Chenle’s girlfriend. That fact alone made this simple interaction feel like crossing some unspoken line.

But he needed quarters, so he shuffled forward, his head down, and placed the bills on the counter.

You looked up, and for the first time, your eyes met his directly. “Oh, hey,” you said, your voice light and friendly. “Need some quarters?”

He froze, the words stuck in his throat. You were smiling. Warmly, like you genuinely wanted to help. Jisung nodded, sliding the bills closer to you.

You took them, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment as you counted out the quarters. “Here you go,” you said, placing them into his outstretched hand. “Good luck out there.”

That smile. It wasn’t just a gesture. It felt different, even if Jisung knew it probably wasn’t. You were like this with everyone, weren’t you? Friendly, approachable, easygoing. It was why Chenle liked you so much.

But still, Jisung felt something shift inside him. Your smile lingered in his mind as he turned away, clutching the quarters tightly in his fist. His chest tightened, but not with the usual pang of nerves. Instead, it was with something he couldn’t quite name.

It was strange, the way that tiny moment replayed in his head as he walked back to the Tetris machine. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. You were just being nice, just doing your job.

But as the night wore on, Jisung found himself glancing toward the counter more often than he meant to. He tried not to think too much about it, but something small and misshapen had taken root in his chest, fragile but undeniably there.

You were Chenle’s girlfriend. He barely knew you. And yet, your kindness had left a mark he couldn’t ignore.

The arcade quickly became Jisung’s second home. Every chance he got—between school, homework, and the occasional group hangout he reluctantly attended—he found himself back at Pixel Haven.

At first, it was a way to pass the time, a distraction from the things that weighed him down. But soon, Tetris became more than that. The falling blocks weren’t just shapes anymore; they were puzzles waiting to be solved, challenges daring him to do better, to think faster. He didn’t just play the game—he immersed himself in it, memorizing patterns, calculating strategies, and finding a strange sense of peace in the rhythmic clearing of lines.

The change didn’t go unnoticed.

“Dude, you’re, like, a full-blown Tetris addict now,” Chenle teased one night, leaning casually against the machine as Jisung started yet another round. His hands were full of snacks he’d grabbed from the counter, and his grin was as wide as ever. “I should start calling you ‘The Tetris Wizard or ‘TetWiz’ for short”.

Jisung flushed, his long fingers hovering over the controls as the pieces began to fall. “I’m not that good,” he muttered, barely audible over the hum of the arcade.

“Are you kidding me?” Chenle laughed, nearly spilling his soda. “You’re insane at this. Like, next-level insane. You’ve got the whole crowd thing going on, too.”

Jisung paused mid-game, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, a few regulars had gathered nearby, casually watching his progress. Their murmured admiration sent a wave of heat to his cheeks.

Chenle clapped him on the back. “See? WizKid status.” He took a swig of his drink, then grinned mischievously. “Hey, you know what? There’s a tournament coming up. Local thing. You should totally enter.”

The words hit Jisung like a truck. No, like someone dropped a T-piece on his head. He fumbled with the joystick, sending a block spiraling into the wrong position. “What? No. No way.”

“Why not?” Chenle’s voice rose in playful disbelief. “You’ve been killing it lately. This is your chance to show everyone how good you are. Plus, think of the bragging rights. I’ll tell everyone I trained you.”

Jisung’s heart pounded, the idea of playing in front of a crowd making his palms sweat. He’d barely gotten used to the small groups that gathered at the arcade. A tournament meant real attention. Real pressure.

“I… I don’t think I can,” he stammered, his gaze fixed on the screen.

Chenle rolled his eyes but didn’t push. “Alright, alright. Baby steps, TetWiz. But think about it, okay? You’d crush it.”

Jisung nodded absently, but the thought lingered long after Chenle wandered off to bother someone else. A tournament? It seemed impossible, unthinkable. Yet, as he continued to play, clearing line after line with growing precision, a small, persistent voice in the back of his mind whispered something different: What if you could?

The flyer for the Pixel Haven Tetris Tournament taunted Jisung from his desk, its bright colors and bold letters shouting promises of prizes, glory, and recognition. He’d stared at it for days, the weight of Chenle’s encouragement and your casual, kind words tipping the scales of his indecision.

“You’d do great,” you’d said just a few nights ago when Chenle joked about Jisung’s reluctance. There wasn’t much to your comment—just a simple smile as you slid quarters across the counter. But it stuck with him, a quiet nudge in the direction he wasn’t sure he could take.

When he finally signed up, his hand trembled so much he nearly misspelled his own name.

The tournament day arrived far too quickly. Pixel Haven was louder than ever, filled with spectators and players buzzing with excitement. The Tetris machine had been moved to the center of the arcade, its screen glowing like a beacon under the dim, colorful lights.

Jisung stood at the edge of the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. His palms were clammy, his legs stiff, and every sound around him felt amplified—quarters clinking, machines chiming, people shouting.

Chenle found him near the snack counter, looking pale and uneasy. “Hey, TetWiz,” he said, clapping Jisung on the shoulder. “Don’t psych yourself out. You’ve got this.”

Jisung shook his head, barely able to meet Chenle’s gaze. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course, you can!” Chenle’s voice was loud, confident, and exactly what Jisung wished he could feel. “You’re the best player here. No one’s even close. Just… pretend it’s like any other Friday night.”

“Except with an even bigger crowd watching,” Jisung muttered under his breath.

At that moment, you appeared, slipping out from behind the counter to join Chenle. Your presence was calm, grounding. “You’ve got this,” you said simply, your eyes meeting Jisung’s.

His stomach twisted. You were Chenle’s girlfriend.

Off-limits.

But your words carried a strange weight, one that settled the storm in his chest just enough.

The tournament began. Jisung’s hands trembled as he approached the machine, the controls suddenly feeling unfamiliar under his fingers. The room seemed to close in around him as the first piece appeared on the screen.

The opening rounds blurred together, a mix of adrenaline and fear propelling him forward. Each cleared line earned cheers from the crowd, but Jisung barely registered them. His focus tunneled in on the screen, every move a desperate attempt to keep the pieces from piling too high.

By the time he reached the finals, his nerves were raw, his breaths shallow. Chenle stood nearby, shouting encouragement, and you offered a quiet thumbs-up that somehow cut through the noise.

The final match was intense. His opponent was fast, their moves sharp and deliberate. The pieces fell faster than ever, the music speeding up to a frenetic pace that matched Jisung’s racing heart.

You can do this, he told himself, gripping the joystick tightly. He visualized the patterns, the strategies he’d practiced endlessly. The lines cleared one after another, the Tetris flashes lighting up the screen.

When the final piece fell into place, and the victory chime rang out, the room erupted into cheers. Jisung blinked, his mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

“You did it!” Chenle shouted, throwing an arm around Jisung’s shoulders. “First place, TetWiz! I told you!”

Jisung stared at the screen, his name flashing in bold letters at the top of the leaderboard. His hands shook—not with fear, but with something new. Pride.

You approached him, your smile soft and genuine. “Congratulations, Jisung. That was amazing.”

He swallowed hard, unable to find the words to respond. But as the applause continued and the weight of the moment settled in, something shifted inside him. For the first time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, he was capable of more.

Jisung wasn’t sure when it started. The way his chest tightened whenever you were near, or how your smile lingered in his thoughts. Maybe it was during one of those small, fleeting moments when you actually listened to him. Not the way most people did, with polite nods and half-hearted attention, but really listened.

You never looked bored or impatient when he talked. Never when he stumbled over his words trying to explain a tricky T-spin maneuver or the satisfaction of a perfectly timed Tetris. Instead, you leaned on the counter, your eyes warm and curious, asking questions that made him feel like his passion wasn’t just valid but worth sharing.

And that was the problem.

Because as much as he admired you, as much as his chest filled with warmth during those rare conversations, there was always Chenle. Loud, confident, and so completely your match.

Jisung couldn’t deny it: Chenle made you laugh in a way that lit up the whole room. He’d see you together. Your arm looped through Chenle’s, his jokes drawing out those bright, unrestrained giggles. All of it felt like a sharp, twisting ache in his chest.

He hated the feeling. The guilt. The jealousy.

Chenle was his best friend, the person who dragged him out of his shell, cheered him on, and believed in him when he barely believed in himself. And you—kind, patient, radiant—you were Chenle’s girlfriend. That was the unshakable truth.

So Jisung did the only thing he could think of to cope. He played tetris.

Hours at Pixel Haven turned into entire evenings, his focus narrowing to the Tetris machine like it was his lifeline. The rhythm of the game, the familiar patterns and strategies, became his escape. When the blocks fell into place, clearing line after line, the noise in his head quieted.

He didn’t have to think about the way his heart raced when you smiled at him or the pang of envy when you rested your head on Chenle’s shoulder.

Chenle noticed, of course. “Man, you’re really going hard lately,” he said one night, watching Jisung rack up yet another high score. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re basically a celebrity here now.”

Jisung forced a smile, his hands tightening around the joystick. “Just… trying to get better.”

Chenle didn’t press further, but Jisung could feel his gaze shift, a flicker of concern hidden behind his usual grin.

And then there was you.

Sometimes, you’d wander over to the Tetris machine during a quiet moment at the counter, watching him play with that same patient interest that made his heart ache.

“You’re amazing at this,” you’d say, your voice soft and genuine.

And Jisung would mumble a shy thank you, barely able to meet your gaze. He wondered if you noticed how fast his hands moved on the controls when you were nearby, or how the screen blurred just slightly because his focus wavered.

He told himself it didn’t matter. It couldn’t. You were Chenle’s, and he had no right to feel the way he did.

So he buried it, block by block, line by line, throwing himself deeper into the game as if sheer determination could erase the feelings growing stronger with every interaction.

But no matter how many lines he cleared, the ache in his chest remained.

Chenle wasn’t the type to dwell on things. He lived in the moment, taking life as it came, confident and carefree. But lately, something about Jisung had been bothering him.

It wasn’t just the obsessive way Jisung threw himself into Tetris, though that was part of it. Chenle had always known Jisung to be shy and focused, but lately, he seemed… different. Distracted. Like his thoughts were someplace—or with someone—else.

And then there were the looks.

Chenle didn’t want to read too much into it, but he’d caught Jisung’s gaze more than once when you were around. At first, he brushed it off. Jisung was awkward around everyone—why would this be any different? But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.

One night, after another long session at Pixel Haven, Chenle finally decided he couldn’t keep quiet.

Jisung was hunched over the Tetris machine, his face illuminated by the screen’s soft glow. The arcade was quieter than usual, most of the crowd having thinned out as the evening wore on. Chenle approached with his usual grin, though this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, TetWiz,” he said casually, leaning against the side of the machine. “Taking over the world one line at a time?”

Jisung glanced at him, his hands never leaving the controls. “Something like that,” he mumbled.

Chenle studied him for a moment, his grin fading. “You know,” he began, his tone light but laced with something sharper, “you’ve been acting kind of weird lately.”

Jisung’s fingers faltered, and the game over screen flashed before he could recover. He let out a quiet sigh, stepping back from the machine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Chenle said, crossing his arms, “you’ve been avoiding me, for one. And for another… I’ve noticed the way you look at her.”

Jisung froze, his heart sinking. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb, Jisung. You think I haven’t seen it? The way you watch her when you think no one’s looking? How you act all nervous when she’s around? Come on, man. You’re my best friend. If there’s something going on, just tell me.”

Panic surged in Jisung’s chest. He shook his head quickly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “There’s nothing going on,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t… I don’t feel that way about her.”

Chenle’s eyes narrowed, his usual easy going demeanor slipping away. That wasn’t what he was suspecting. He actually thought you had said something to Jisung that made him uncomfortable. But having feelings for you? Chenle forgot that was even an option. He suddenly felt a surge of jealousy. “Jisung, I’m not stupid. I know you better than anyone.”

“I don’t!” Jisung’s voice rose slightly, the desperation clear. “I—I swear, Chenle. It’s not like that.”

The tension hung heavy between them, the arcade’s neon lights casting sharp shadows across their faces.

Chenle exhaled slowly, his expression softening just a little. “Look, I trust her, okay? I trust you. But if there’s something you’re not telling me… just be honest. Don’t let this mess things up.”

Jisung’s throat tightened, guilt clawing at his insides. He wanted to tell the truth, to admit the feelings he’d tried so hard to bury. But the fear of losing Chenle—his best friend, his biggest supporter—was too much to bear.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said quietly, his hands clenched at his sides.

Chenle studied him for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Finally, he nodded, though the tension in his posture remained. “Alright. If you say so.”

But as he walked away, leaving Jisung alone by the Tetris machine, the rift between them felt wider than ever.

For the first time in years, Jisung wasn’t sure if Chenle still believed in him—or if he even believed in himself.

The state Tetris championship was a dream Jisung never dared to dream. And now, as his name sat proudly on the qualifying list, it felt more like a nightmare.

The arcade was quiet that night, the usual hum of voices replaced by the occasional beep of a forgotten pinball machine. Jisung sat slumped on a bench near the Tetris machine, the glow of the screen casting long shadows across his face. His hands fidgeted with the crumpled flyer announcing the championships, the bold letters seeming to mock him.

State Champion. The words felt impossibly big, like they belonged to someone else.

The weight of it all—the expectations, the pressure, the growing distance between him and Chenle—pressed down on him like a heavy block he couldn’t clear. His chest felt tight, his thoughts spiraling in an endless loop of self-doubt.

He didn’t even hear you approach.

“You okay?”

Your voice was soft, cutting through the quiet like a gentle melody. Jisung jumped, his head snapping up to see you standing nearby, concern etched across your features.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

You didn’t buy it. Instead, you sat down on the bench beside him, leaving just enough space to respect his shyness. You glanced at the flyer in his hands, then back at him.

“It’s a big deal, huh?” you said, your tone light but understanding.

Jisung hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s too big,” he admitted quietly. “I… I don’t think I can do it.”

The words felt like a confession, raw and vulnerable. He didn’t know why he was telling you this. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to listen without judgment, or the way your presence felt steady and safe.

You tilted your head, your eyes warm. “Why not?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because… because what if I mess up? What if I let everyone down? Chenle’s been calling me a ‘wizard,’ hyping me up to everyone. People actually watch me now, like I’m supposed to be… someone. But I’m not. I’m just…”

“Jisung,” you finished gently.

He nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. Just Jisung. And I don’t think just Jisung is good enough for this.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. The hum of the arcade filled the silence, a soft, steady rhythm that seemed to match his unsteady breathing.

Then, you leaned forward, your voice quiet but firm. “You know, when I watch you play, it’s not just about the score or the tournament or any of that. It’s the way you light up when you’re in the zone, like nothing else matters. It’s like… you’re in your own world, and it’s incredible to see.”

Jisung blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“You don’t have to know right now,” you said with a small smile. “But Jisung, this isn’t about being a wizard or a champion or whatever anyone else thinks. It’s about you. Your love for this game, your talent. That’s what matters. Not winning. Just you doing what you love.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. Jisung’s heart raced as your words lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a lifeline. He hadn’t expected you to understand him so completely, let alone say the exact thing he needed to hear.

For a brief moment, he forgot about everything else. The tournament, the pressure, even Chenle. All he could focus on was you. The warmth in your voice, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth believing in.

The weight in his chest shifted, and before he knew it, his thoughts spilled over.

“I—” He paused, the words catching in his throat.

You tilted your head, curious but patient, your expression inviting him to continue.

He could feel it, the overwhelming urge to tell you. To say something, anything, about the way he felt—the way you made him feel. How his heart ached and soared all at once whenever you were near.

But then, just as quickly, reality crashed back in.

Chenle. His best friend. Your boyfriend.

Jisung swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. He couldn’t do it. No matter how much his heart screamed at him to say the truth, he couldn’t betray Chenle like that.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, his voice barely steady. He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. For, you know… everything.”

Your smile softened, and you nodded, as if sensing that he wasn’t ready to say more. “Anytime,” you replied, standing up to head back to the counter.

Jisung watched you go, his chest heavy with unspoken words. He let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching the crumpled flyer in his lap.

But he wasn’t the only one watching.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Chenle stood near the doorway, hidden by the dim light and arcade cabinets. He had arrived just moments ago, intending to meet Jisung and hang out like they always did. But instead, he found himself rooted to the spot, watching the two of you.

At first, it didn’t seem like much—just a quiet conversation between friends. But the way Jisung looked at you… it wasn’t hard for Chenle to see what was really going on.

It wasn’t the look of someone simply grateful for support. It was something deeper, more vulnerable. Something Chenle had never seen in Jisung before.

His chest tightened, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He wasn’t angry—not yet. But there was a pang of something sharp and unfamiliar, like jealousy’s distant cousin.

He trusted you, and he trusted Jisung. But trust didn’t erase what he had just seen.

Chenle stepped back into the shadows, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Jisung’s expression—the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with something Chenle couldn’t quite name but knew wasn’t meant for him.

For the first time, Chenle felt uncertain. About Jisung. About you. About everything.

And as he walked away from the arcade that night, the unspoken tension between the three of you began to grow, pulling tighter with each passing moment.

The auditorium buzzed with energy, the hum of anticipation vibrating through the air as rows of arcade cabinets lined the stage, each boasting the Tetris logo in bright neon. Competitors adjusted their machines, the crowd murmured excitedly, and Jisung stood frozen at the edge of it all, feeling impossibly small.

The state Tetris championship. He was really here.

Jisung’s stomach churned, his nerves nearly overtaking him. He gripped the strap of his backpack, his fingers twitching with a restless energy. His mind wasn’t just crowded with thoughts of the game but with everything else—Chenle, you, the weight of unspoken feelings.

Before he could spiral any further, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?”

Jisung blinked and turned to see a tall, relaxed guy about a few years older standing next to him. The stranger held a can of pop, his messy hair framing a face that somehow managed to look both half-asleep and mildly curious.

“I—uh…” Jisung stammered, caught off guard.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” the stranger said bluntly, taking a sip of his pop. “Big deal tournament jitters?”

Jisung hesitated, but something about the guy’s laid-back demeanor made him exhale a little. “Yeah, kind of,” he admitted.

“Let me guess,” the stranger said, leaning against a nearby wall. “Scared you’ll lose? Or scared you’ll win and, like, your entire life will change forever?”

“Both,” Jisung muttered.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Yeah, fair. Tetris is wild like that.”

Something about his casual tone loosened Jisung’s tongue. Before he knew it, he was rambling.

“It’s not just the game,” he confessed, the words tumbling out. “It’s everything else. My best friend…he’s been supporting me, but I think I’ve messed things up between us. And then there’s this girl…” His voice trailed off, his ears burning.

The stranger tilted his head. “Oh, so it’s love and Tetris. Double whammy.”

Jisung winced. “I don’t know what to do. I like her, but she’s with my best friend, and I feel like the worst person in the world. And now I’m here, and I’m supposed to play like none of this matters, but it does.”

The stranger stared at him for a moment, then sighed, setting down his soda. “Okay, look. I’m not great at advice, but here’s what I’ve got: You’re not gonna fix your love life today. But this tournament? It’s yours. You’ve got one job—play your absolute fucking best. Worry about the rest later.”

Jisung blinked, the simplicity of the advice sinking in. “That’s it?”

“Yep.” The stranger smirked. “Oh, and maybe stop thinking about her for like, five seconds while you play. Otherwise, you’ll never clear a line.”

Despite himself, Jisung let out a nervous laugh. “Thanks, uh…”

“Sicheng,” the guy said, giving a small wave before walking off with his soda.

Jisung stood there for a moment, the stranger’s words echoing in his head. One job. Play your absolute fucking best.

The announcement of his name jolted him back to reality. Heart pounding, he made his way to the stage, the crowd’s cheers swelling around him.

He spotted Chenle instantly, standing in the front row and waving wildly, his energy uncontainable. “Go, TetWiz!” Chenle yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

Jisung’s chest tightened. Despite everything, the tension, the doubts, Chenle was still there, cheering him on.

And then he saw you, standing beside Chenle. Your smile was quieter, softer, but it carried the same weight of belief that you’d shown him back at Pixel Haven. Your eyes met his, and you gave a small, encouraging nod.

Jisung took a deep breath, his hands gripping the controls as he sat down.

The countdown began.

Three.

The noise of the crowd faded away.

Two.

His fingers hovered over the buttons, his mind sharpening to a single point of focus.

One.

Play your absolute fucking best.

The game began, the familiar shapes dropping from the top of the screen like old friends. His nervousness melted away as he found his rhythm, the blocks slotting into place with satisfying precision.

The crowd roared as he cleared line after line, the tension building with each level. But Jisung didn’t hear it. For the first time in weeks, his mind was clear, his focus solely on the game.

This wasn’t about Chenle, or you, or even the title. This was about Jisung—the quiet boy who found a spark of something extraordinary in the chaos of falling blocks.

Then the final round began, and the stakes had never felt higher. Jisung sat at the machine, his hands steady but his heart pounding as the screen lit up with the familiar grid. Across from him, his opponent—a seasoned Tetris player with years of experience—cracked their knuckles, exuding a calm confidence that only added to Jisung’s nerves.

The crowd quieted as the final countdown began again.

Three.

Jisung tightened his grip on the joystick.

Two.

His gaze locked on the screen, blocking out everything else.

One.

The pieces started to fall, faster than in any game he’d played before. The early levels felt manageable, his fingers moving on autopilot as he cleared lines with precision. But as the speed increased, so did the tension.

His opponent was good. Better than anyone Jisung had ever faced. They kept pace with him, their screen just as clear, their movements just as calculated. It wasn’t just a game anymore; it was a test of endurance, strategy, and nerves.

The minutes stretched on, each line cleared pushing Jisung further into uncharted territory. His heart raced as he reached the kill screen level—the point where the game’s speed maxed out, and most players couldn’t keep up.

Most players.

Jisung’s vision narrowed, his world shrinking to the grid in front of him. His fingers danced over the controls, rotating and dropping pieces with a precision that felt almost otherworldly. The crowd was a distant roar, his opponent a vague shadow in his peripheral vision.

He wasn’t thinking anymore; he was flowing.

When the final piece dropped into place, clearing a line and bringing his score to a record-breaking high, the machine emitted a triumphant chime.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, the auditorium erupted.

The crowd leaped to their feet, cheering and clapping, the noise echoing off the walls. Lights flashed, cameras clicked, and Jisung sat there, stunned, as the reality of what he’d just accomplished began to sink in.

He’d won.

Not just the championship, but something deeper. For the first time, Jisung felt the rush of pride, not just for the victory but for the journey that had brought him here.

Chenle’s voice cut through the chaos, louder than anyone else’s. “You did it, Ji! He fucking did it!”

Jisung turned to see his best friend grinning so widely it looked like his face might split in two. Despite the tension between them, Chenle’s joy was pure and infectious.

And then his eyes found you.

You weren’t shouting or jumping like the others, but the pride in your expression was unmistakable. You clapped along with the crowd, your smile warm and genuine as your gaze met his.

Jisung’s chest swelled, the mix of emotions nearly overwhelming. He stood slowly, his legs shaky, and accepted the medal from the tournament official with trembling hands. The announcer declared his name, calling him a prodigy, a champion, but none of it felt as real as the faces in the crowd—Chenle, you, and everyone who had supported him.

As the applause continued, Jisung looked back at the Tetris screen, now frozen on his record-breaking score. For the first time, he saw himself not as “just Jisung,” but as someone capable of achieving something extraordinary.

The crowd had finally begun to disperse, the cheers fading into the background as competitors and spectators alike spilled out into the night. Jisung stayed behind, lingering near the now-quiet Tetris machine. His medal hung heavy around his neck, a tangible reminder that this wasn’t just a dream.

He turned the medal over in his hands, his mind still reeling. He should have been basking in the glow of his victory, but his thoughts kept circling back to you. How your smile had stood out even among the applause. How your quiet presence had kept him grounded.

“Jisung?”

Your voice startled him, and he looked up to see you standing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket. The faint hum of the arcade machines illuminated your face in soft, flickering light.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped closer, your gaze falling on the medal around his neck. “Congratulations,” you said, your smile warm but understated, as though you understood he wasn’t one for grand celebrations. “You were incredible out there.”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks. I… I still can’t believe it.”

“You should,” you replied, your tone gentle but firm. “You worked so hard for this. You deserve it.”

The sincerity in your voice sent a wave of emotion through him, and he found himself meeting your eyes. For a moment, everything else fell away. The noise of the arcade, the lingering spectators, even Chenle.

“It means a lot,” he murmured, “that you were here.”

You smiled softly, stepping even closer. “Of course I was. I wasn’t going to miss this. You’re… special, Jisung. You have something really rare. Not just your talent, but the way you put your heart into everything you do.”

Your words hit him like a gentle but powerful wave, and for the first time, Jisung felt like you saw him, not as Chenle’s shy best friend, not as the Tetris Wizard, but as him.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he reached up and touched the medal lightly, as if offering it to you.

“This… it’s not just mine,” he said quietly. “You helped me get here. You believed in me when I didn’t.”

You shook your head, your smile deepening. “That was all you, Jisung. I just… reminded you what you already knew.”

The air between you shifted, the unspoken feelings thickening the silence. It wasn’t the boisterous, high-energy dynamic you had with Chenle. It was quieter, steadier, like a river carving its way through stone.

You reached out then, your fingers brushing his lightly as you adjusted the medal around his neck. The small, intimate gesture sent his heart racing, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re going to do even greater things,” you said softly, your voice carrying a certainty that made his chest ache.

For a fleeting moment, Jisung thought about telling you everything. Telling you how much he cared for you, and how much this moment meant to him. But he stopped himself, the memory of Chenle’s unwavering cheers still fresh in his mind.

Instead, he held your gaze and said, “Thanks. For… everything.”

Your smile lingered as you stepped back, leaving a small but undeniable space between you. “You’ve got this, Jisung. Don’t forget that.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, the warmth of your touch still buzzing on his skin.

Jisung let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his hands brushing the medal around his neck. His feelings for you weren’t just a crush. They were something deeper, something that scared and exhilarated him in equal measure.

But for now, he would hold onto the moment, replaying your words in his mind like his favorite song.

As you disappeared into the crowd, Jisung stayed rooted to the spot, the medal’s weight now feeling symbolic of something much heavier. His fingers grazed the cool metal, his thoughts swirling in an uncontrollable storm.

He should have felt elated, on top of the world. And part of him did. But the other part felt like he was standing on the edge of something far scarier than any Tetris grid.

She believes in me. She sees me.

The thought filled him with a quiet joy, but it was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. Chenle had been there too, cheering the loudest, always his most loyal supporter. And Chenle was your boyfriend.

Jisung closed his eyes, trying to silence the war inside him. How could he feel this way about you while knowing it wasn’t his place? He’d spent years being the guy who didn’t take up space, who stayed on the sidelines, who let others shine. Was it selfish to want something or someone so badly now?

“Hey, champ.”

The voice startled Jisung, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned to see the familiar figure of Sicheng standing a few feet away.

“I, uh…” Jisung stammered, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Didn’t know you were still here.”

Sicheng shrugged, “Yeah, well, figured I’d stick around and see how the hero handles his post-victory glow. Looks like you’re more ‘existential crisis’ than ‘glow,’ though.”

Jisung blinked, unsure whether to laugh or deny it. “It’s… complicated,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping.

Sicheng nodded as if he understood completely. “Love and Tetris, man. Both are way harder than they look.”

Jisung couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him, the tension in his chest easing just a little. “I didn’t say it was about that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Sicheng grinned, leaning against a nearby arcade machine. “You’ve got that look. You know, the one that says, ‘I’m hopelessly in love and it’s ruining my life.’”

Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone as wise and experienced as me,” Sicheng said, his tone deadpan.

Jisung peeked at him through his fingers. “What would you do, then? If you were me?”

Sicheng tilted his head thoughtfully, “I’d probably mess it up completely, to be honest. But here’s the thing—you’re not me. You’ve already done the hard part. You put yourself out there tonight. You faced something scary and came out on top. Maybe it’s time you do the same with… other things.”

Jisung frowned, the words sinking in. “But what if it goes wrong? What if I lose what I already have?”

Sicheng shrugged. “Maybe you will. Or maybe you won’t. But if you keep letting fear decide everything, you’re just gonna stay stuck at the start screen forever. And trust me, that’s no way to play.”

Jisung stared at him, the simplicity of his words somehow cutting through the noise in his head. “You’re… surprisingly good at this,” he said, half-joking.

“I have my moments.” Sicheng smirked, pushing himself off the arcade machine. “Anyway, I’m out. Congrats again, champ. And, uh, good luck with… whatever you decide.”

As Sicheng walked off, Jisung found himself standing a little straighter. The stranger’s words had left him with no concrete answers, but maybe that was the point.

Jisung glanced down at the medal one last time before tucking it under his shirt. For now, he’d focus on the present. The victory he’d earned and the path it was opening up.

But deep down, he knew that the harder game was just beginning.

Jisung didn’t see Chenle after the championship that night.

The victory should have been enough. It was everything he’d worked for, proof that he wasn’t just the quiet kid in the background. But his mind kept circling back to you—your smile, your words, the warmth in your eyes that seemed to see right through his fears.

Why does it feel like this isn’t enough?

Jisung sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. He thought about Chenle. The guilt gnawed at him. Chenle had cheered for him louder than anyone, had believed in him when he couldn’t believe in himself. And yet, every time Jisung saw you two together, it felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. This isn’t fair to Chenle. He deserves better than this.

But the memory of your touch, the way your voice softened when you spoke to him, was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just a crush. It was something deeper, something that made him feel seen in a way he never had before.

“Hey, Wiz.”

Jisung jumped at the voice, turning to see Chenle standing behind him. His best friend’s grin was still as bright as ever, but there was something different in his eyes, something quieter, more serious.

“Oh, hey,” Jisung mumbled, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions on his face. “What’s up?”

Chenle didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gestured toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s talk.”

Jisung’s stomach sank, but he nodded, following Chenle out into the cool night air. The buzz of the arcade faded behind them as they walked a short distance to a nearby bench. Chenle flopped down first, his usual energy replaced by a rare stillness.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jisung fidgeted with the edge of his medal ribbon, waiting for Chenle to break the silence.

“I saw you,” Chenle finally said, his voice unusually calm.

Jisung froze, his heart lurching in his chest. “Saw me?” he echoed, his voice tight.

Chenle leaned back, his gaze fixed on the starry sky. “You and her. After the tournament.”

Jisung’s throat went dry. “I—Chenle, it’s not what you think—”

Chenle cut him off with a small, tired laugh. “Relax, dude. I’m not mad. And I know you wouldn’t do anything. You’re too much of a pussy to make the first move.” He turned to look at Jisung, his expression softer than Jisung expected. “I mean, yeah, it stings a little. But I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

Jisung blinked, confused. “Thinking about what?”

Chenle sighed, running a hand through his hair. “About us….me and her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great. But... I don’t think we’re great together, you know? We’re fun, we laugh a lot, but it’s not... deep.”

Jisung stared at him, struggling to process the words.

“And then I see the way you look at her,” Chenle continued, his voice quieter now. “And the way she looks at you.” He let out another soft laugh. “I’d have to be blind not to notice it.”

“I’m sorry,” Jisung blurted out, his guilt spilling over. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear, I tried not to—”

“Hey, stop.” Chenle held up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m not mad, okay? It’s not like you did this on purpose. Feelings are... messy. Trust me, I get it.”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped, the weight of Chenle’s understanding both a relief and a fresh wave of guilt. “So... what does this mean?” he asked hesitantly.

Chenle shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It means I’m stepping back. You two have something real, Jisung. Something I don’t think I could ever have with her.”

Jisung stared at him, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions. “Are you sure?”

Chenle nodded. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ll probably be a little salty about it for a while. But at the end of the day, you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy.” He clapped Jisung on the shoulder, his grin returning in full force. “And who knows? Maybe this means I’ll finally have time to beat your high score.”

Jisung let out a breathless laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Thanks, Chenle. For everything.”

Chenle stood, stretching dramatically. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. Just... don’t mess it up, okay? She’s too good for that.”

Jisung nodded, his heart lighter but still full. As Chenle walked away, Jisung sat for a moment longer, staring at the medal in his hands.

Jisung’s heart pounded like it had during the tournament, maybe even harder. He clutched the edges of the medal still hanging around his neck, his thumb running along the engraved letters as if they could grant him the courage he desperately needed.

He found you sitting at the counter in Pixel Haven, a quiet lull settling over the arcade now that the evening rush was over. You were tinkering with a small machine part, your brow furrowed in concentration, and Jisung couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at the sight.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the arcade lights.

You looked up, surprised but smiling as soon as you saw him. “Jisung! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your big win?”

He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I needed to talk to you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly.

You set the part down, giving him your full attention. “Is everything okay?”

Jisung nodded, but the lump in his throat made it hard to speak. He took a deep breath, the memory of Chenle’s words earlier that night giving him the final push.

“I—there’s something I need to say. And I don’t know if it’s the right time, or if I’m even allowed to feel this way, but I can’t... I can’t keep it in anymore.” He paused, his hands gripping the medal tightly. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now. And I know Chenle’s your boyfriend. Well, was—but I had to tell you.”

Your eyes softened, and you stood, closing the space between you. “Jisung…”

“I’m sorry if this is too much,” he continued quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I just... you mean a lot to me. More than I can explain. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just—”

“Jisung.” Your voice was steady but gentle, cutting through his nervous rambling.

He stopped, his breath hitching as you placed a hand on his arm.

“I like you too.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. He blinked at you, his mind struggling to catch up. “You... you do?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and ridiculously talented. And more than that, you have this quiet strength that I admire so much. I’ve been drawn to you for a while now, even when I didn’t fully realize it.”

Jisung’s cheeks flushed, his heart soaring as your words sank in. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, your smile widening. “But we’ll have to take things slow. This is all new, and I want to make sure we’re both ready.”

Jisung nodded quickly, his nervous energy giving way to a shy grin. “Of course. Slow is good.”

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet arcade. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Jisung’s blush deepened, but for the first time, he didn’t feel the need to hide it.

As the two of you stood there, the arcade lights casting a warm glow, Jisung felt something shift inside him. It wasn’t just the joy of hearing you say you liked him too. He’d taken a risk and won.

And this victory? It felt like the best one yet.

This was it.

The moment he’d worked toward for months.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, “Park Jisung is on the verge of breaking the world record for highest Tetris score! Can he do it?”

Jisung’s heart thundered in his chest, but it wasn’t fear anymore. It was adrenaline. Focus. Determination.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of you and Chenle in the crowd. You were leaning forward, your hands clasped tightly in anticipation, your eyes shining with pride. Beside you, Chenle was shouting encouragement so loudly it drowned out the rest of the noise.

“Come on, Wizard!” Chenle yelled, his grin so wide it could’ve split his face. “You’ve got this! Show ‘em how it’s done!”

Jisung’s lips twitched into a small smile. Chenle’s voice, your presence, the energy of everyone around him, all pushed him forward.

The final minutes were a blur of movement and sound. The blocks sped up to an almost impossible level, but Jisung’s hands didn’t falter. His brain worked in overdrive, every decision precise and calculated. He could feel the rhythm of the game in his bones.

And then, with one last perfect Tetris, the machine let out a triumphant chime.

The words NEW WORLD RECORD! flashed across the screen, and for a moment, the room seemed to freeze.

Then the crowd erupted. Cheers and applause filled the arcade, the sound almost deafening. Jisung sat back, his hands trembling as he let out a shaky breath. He’d done it.

You were the first to reach him, weaving through the crowd with your face lit up in a beaming smile. “Jisung, you did it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

For a moment, he froze, still overwhelmed by everything, but then he relaxed into the hug, his face flushing as a shy grin spread across his lips. “I... I guess I did.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands still on his arms. “No, Jisung. You didn’t just do it. You literally broke a world record. That was fucking incredible.”

Before Jisung could respond, Chenle burst through the crowd, practically tackling him with a clap on the back. “That was insane, dude! You’re officially a legend!”

Jisung laughed softly, his nerves easing as the weight of his friends’ support sank in. “Thanks, Chenle. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Chenle scoffed, his grin turning playful. “Obviously. I mean, who else would’ve dragged your sorry butt to the arcade every week?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. “And who else would’ve cheered louder than the announcer himself?”

Chenle puffed out his chest dramatically. “It’s called dedication. But seriously, man.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to something softer. “I’m proud of you. I always knew you had it in you.”

Jisung blinked, his throat tightening with emotion. “Thanks, Chenle. That... that means a lot.”

“And me,” you added, your gaze locking with Jisung’s. “You’ve worked so hard for this, Jisung. You deserve every bit of it.”

Jisung’s face burned, but he managed a small, grateful smile. “I... I couldn’t have done it without you either. Both of you.”

Chenle grinned, clapping Jisung on the back again. “Okay, enough sap. Let’s go celebrate! First round of drinks are on me!”

“Chenle, you’ve never paid for drinks in your life,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Today’s a special occasion!” Chenle shot back, already heading toward the counter. “Besides, I’ll just borrow some cash from Jisung’s prize money.”

Jisung chuckled, the sound lighter than it had been in months. He looked between you and Chenle, his chest tightening with a strange mix of gratitude and joy.

In this moment, he realized that no matter how far he went. No matter how high he climbed in the Tetris world. He wouldn’t be alone.

He had Chenle, his loud, chaotic best friend who always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. And he had you, the person who saw him, really saw him, and made him feel like he could be more than just the quiet kid in the background.

For the first time, Jisung felt like he wasn’t just playing to win. He was playing for the people who mattered most.'

Though it stung at first, Chenle proved himself to be the supportive and selfless friend Jisung had always known. It didn’t take long for him to bounce back—literally. A chance meeting at a K-TV bar introduced him to a bubbly, energetic girl named Yizhuo, whose laughter was as infectious as his own. Their chemistry was instant, and soon Chenle was filling the arcade with stories of his new escapades. He still teased Jisung relentlessly, but it was clear he harbored no ill will.

The trio’s bond remained intact, stronger than ever, though their lives began to diverge.

Jisung, now a bona fide legend in the gaming world, found himself swept into a whirlwind of tournaments, sponsorships, and interviews. Though he remained shy and soft-spoken, his quiet charisma and undeniable skill won over fans around the globe. He still made time to visit Pixel Haven, the arcade that had started it all, but his visits were less frequent now, as his journey took him to stages he’d only dreamed of.

You, on the other hand, had left Pixel Haven behind for a new chapter of your own. Inspired by the energy and community of the arcade, you decided to pursue a career in game design. Late nights were now spent sketching out ideas for games that combined strategy and storytelling, with a little bit of heart and soul, something you’d learned was just as important as the mechanics.

Jisung was your biggest cheerleader, always eager to hear about your latest ideas, even if his input sometimes boiled down to, “As long as it’s not as stressful as Tetris.”

Chenle, ever the social butterfly, had shifted his focus to broadcasting. His infectious personality made him a hit on television screens, where he’d commentate on retro games, pull off absurd challenges, and occasionally rope Jisung into appearances. “The TetWiz and Lele Show,” he called it, though Jisung mostly just sat there, looking flustered as Chenle stole the spotlight.

Still, every once in a while, the three of you would reunite at Pixel Haven, now under new management but still holding its nostalgic charm. You’d share snacks, reminisce about the good old days, and maybe even challenge each other to a game or two—though no one dared to take on Jisung in Tetris.

And as Jisung watched you and Chenle laughing over some ridiculous bet, the soft glow of the arcade lights reflecting in your eyes, he realized that life was a lot like Tetris. The pieces didn’t always fall the way you wanted them to, but with patience, a little bit of courage, and the right people by your side, you could make something beautiful out of the chaos.

GAME OVER.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

#nct #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct fluff #park jisung #nct jisung #jisung park #park jisung fic #park jisung fluff #jisung fic #nct fic #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct x reader #jisung x reader #park jisung x reader #nct dream imagines #jisung fluff #jisung angst

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red5cars · 8 months ago

Text

minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked.

“could i... perhaps.... indulge you on bear hybrid price... and breeding kink. but not like, just stuffing you full, i'm talking round of his seed just overflowing... 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️” - ask from anon

oh boy..

bunny!reader who stumbles across a beautiful patch in the forest. it’s a nice set up, lush greenery, some flowers to nibble and admire, and a stream that provides plenty of water.

and most importantly, the land is empty. no predators, or prey. just your cute little cottontail and no one else.

it quickly becomes your home, spending your days laying down in the shrubbery, skipping by the stream, and eating your fill in plants. a perfect routine you plan on sticking to until you die.

at least, that’s what you thought it would be like, until you found out why this patch was so empty.

it happens on a rainy day, and while the feeling of water running down your fur and skin is enjoyable, the downpour is harsh today. in need of shelter, you quickly seek out the nearest cave, finding one hidden in plain sight. it’s covered by vines and moss, blending into the greenery. thankfully, you’re able to pick out such things, it’s how you found this place after all.

stepping inside, you realize how dark and cold it is, a shiver making your ears stand up. at the very least, you wouldn’t have to be here for more than a few hours. what’s the worse that could happen?

it seems the answer chuffs behind you, a growl making your body stiffen.

as you turn your head over your shoulder, your met with the grizzly sight of a large bear hybrid. your ears drop, fear running through you as the beast stares you down.

“anyone ever told you about trespassing, bun?” he asks, his deep voice rattling your bones.

somehow, you manage to shake your head, stammering, “i-i didn’t know this was.. i thought.. i-“

“thought wha’, hm?” he asks, his tone bordering on condescending, “thought this little patch was yours for the taking,” there’s a hint of smile in his tone, and you see it as he emerges from the shadows.

with every step he takes forward, you take one back, hoping to reach the entrance of the cave.

“n-no,” it comes out naturally, a defensive response. the bear just chuckles, shaking his head.

“oh bunny.. poor stupid bunny,” the dim light from outside glints against his fangs, canines that are waiting to be sunk into your flesh.

“everything in this little section of the forest is mine, from the trees,“ he gestured above your head, but you don’t dare turn around. it would be unwise to give him an opening.

“the grass, and even the little stream like you to hop in,” a chill runs down your spine. it never occurred to you he was watching, eying his next meal.

with one more step, you find yourself close to the entrance. but it seems he redirected your path, feeling the hard wall of the cave hit you instead of the rain’s humidity.

his whole body cages you, keeping trapped.

“and now.. you do too.”

——

you knew he was going to devour you, just not like this.

the bear, price, has you pinned down with an arm on your lower back, stomach glued to the cold floor as his tongue glides up and down your slick cunt.

even with his weight on you, your instincts scream at you to move. to run away and never look back.

“quit yer squirming, bun,” price commands, growls. the low timbre of his voice adds vibrations to your pussy, causing you to do the opposite of what he said. a quiet squeal leaves your lips, ears stretched far back behind you in embarrassment.

even though you defied a direct order, he doesn’t punish you. instead, he goes back to eating it, eating you, your sopping wet cunt.

you can’t even recall how you got into this position, all you remember is the bear claiming you as his, telling you his name, and then wrestling you down into the floor.

..so maybe you can recall how you got here.

after another agony of his long licks, price pulls away from your cunt. it’s completely drenched in his spit, and you bet it smells more like his mouth than you.

“think you’re ready now,” he grunts, and despite the haze his tongue has placed you in, alarm bells ring in your head again. swiftly, you manage to turn, eyes wide, “r-ready for wha-“

your question is cut off as something big is shoved inside of you, your meek voice shifting into something closer to a scream.

just like everything about him, it’s big. it feels like he’s burrowing himself inside you, which is ironic considering his species. it’s just all too much far too quickly.

“p-price pull out pl-please,” you beg, and not even the earlier pleasure can outdo the pain. but he doesn’t pull out. in fact, it seems your pleading spurs him on, trying to shove even more (was there more?!) of himself inside of you.

“can’t do that bun,” he huffs, squishing your cottontail as he practically rests his full weight on you, “gotta claim you.”

and with that, he moves.

it’s brutal, the way he slams home into your tight pussy. it’s almost like being stabbed, except the blade is thicker and more meaty and not a blade at all but probably the fattest cock you’ve ever felt-

it seems price can pick up on your pain, tasting it on his tongue (amongst other things). with one hand, he manages to cant your hips, snaking a paw in between them.

“being too mean, aren’t i?” he says almost effortlessly, not a hint of strain in his voice despite the robust movement of his hips, “soft thing like you isn’t used to this type of breeding..”

as a sign of mercy, his fingers play with your clit, pinching and rubbing the bud.

and oh, does that help.

instead of focusing on the harsh piston of his hips, he offers pleasure, toying with your little button, rolling it between his fingers, putting enough pressure to have you squeaking.

it pulls sounds out of you that you never knew you could make and sentences that consist of pleasepleaseplease and moremoremore.

it seems price revels in your enjoyment too, grunting harder as your insides clench on his length with a vice-like grip.

“yeah? you like that, bun? you always turn into a slut when someone flicks that little button of yours? hm?”

despite his patronizing tone, you’re unable to deny his claims. instead, you meet his questions with moans, turning into what he describes as a cock-focused cottontail slut.

before long, the warmth in your stomach erupts like a dormant volcano, making you clench his cock in a vice-like grip. your orgasm shakes you, body rigid as you come undone under this predator.

it seems he wasn’t far along either, as price buries his face into the back of your neck, pressing himself to the hilt as a massive load of his cum spills inside you.

it’s hot and thick, making sure not to just coat your insides but also fill it. you half expect him to pull out, but price just stays sheathed inside you.

it isn’t until you feel your womb is going to burst that you finally speak up, “um.. i.. i think you should.. p-pull out..” you whimper, having to actively search for words instead of fall deeper into this haze of lust.

but it’s rare for predators to spare mercy, even rarer for them to do it twice.

“no can do bun, see” and he completely drops his weight onto you, a quiet oof exhaling from you at this, “i was pretty lonely before you showed up, and it’s been near ages since i had a mate..”

as he explains himself, you can feel his cock coming back to life, practically keep all his cum plugged deep inside of you.

“and when you wandered into my territory, i knew i had to have you,” his hips move shallowly, barely separating from you. “had to make you mine,” at this, a moan leaves your lips while a deep chuckle escapes his.

“attagirl. now,” he curls an arm under your waist, palming at your soft belly, “jus’ lie there while i make you fat with my cubs, okay bunny?”

#capt price #john price x reader #hybrid!price #bearhybrid!price #hybrid!reader #bunny!reader #cw breeding #cw dubcon #idk if it counts as that but just to be safe #reds writes

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mayasaurusss · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! New anon here (🦠). Won’t ask how you’re feeling because we’re all in mourning and in shambles, but what do you think Lottie would be like with a reader who’s an Antler Queen? Lowkey LottieNat-leaning, but reader was the one who got chosen, and now they’re in the spring, and Lottie is THE prophet while reader is THE queen.

Thank you!

Her queen

A/N: Hello my dears, I am back! (I think). This isn't the best of my works and my writing has some improvment to do after my hiatus, but I tried to make it make sense.

Also, let's all welcome dear🦠anon eveyone! I require a round of applause please. Enjoy!

Oh Lottie, the workshipper that you are.

That winter day, when the snow was raging outside and the cold seeped inside the wooden cabin, she consulted with It, asked It what they could do to survive the winter.

When she heard Its voice echo inside her ears, cold as the icy wind and hoarse as a murder of crows and as billions of ghosts’ whispers, she couldn't believe what It was asking, no, demanding of her. You, out of everyone?

That day, she questioned herself whether the Wilderness was real, or a figment of her own imagination. But an order it’s an order, and like the true devotee she is, she compiled.

When she came into the room, everyone’s faces looked harsh, distant, barely holding it together. The dance of light and shadows the fire projected into the room and onto their faces only added more depth to the seriousness of the situation. Had she been good at art history, Lottie could have confidently said that she had been transported into a baroque’s painting world. Or Victorian gothic, or whatever.

She couldn’t see you at first, not behind the bloody pulp of meat that was left in place of her left eye, not with you away from the center of the room, hidden in the dark, protecting yourself from what was happening. From what was about to happen.

You always looked so precious to her.

Natalie was always It's favorite, but you were always hers.

You were too busy drawing imaginary doodles on the floor, trying to do anything to forget this place to see her walking towards you. Her and your friends’ faces morphed into confusion, anger and jealousy as she arrived at your feet. Only when the fireplace’s lights were gone from your eyes, did you look up. Standing above you, the light shone around her, creating a halo around her figure. She looked almost holy to you, had her face not been shrouded in darkness.

“It chose”.

Adorned with an antler crown, you order, help and try your best to hold the group together.

You are a beacon of light, a hope inside the darkness. Someone she can count on, someone she knows will lead all of you to safety.

Lottie is utterly obsessed with you, even more so after you became the Antler Queen. She treats you like a god.

She gives you her share of the food, stuff your clothes with fresh medicinal herbs, kisses you goodnight every day, when the sun goes down, right in the middle of camp, in front of everybody. She looks up at you with love in her eyes, as if you were a gift the Wilderness sent her, for how good of a devotee she was.

Speaking of kisses. Charlotte, previous to the crash, had never been too much into public displays of affection. And, more than that, she never confessed anything about her little crush for you. But after everything went to shit, it’s like a cloud obscures her judgment. She had always felt this need to tell you, to come and sit down next to you and whisper in your ear “I like you”, but never had the courage.

That’s until the Wilderness itself made you their queen, and from then on, all her fears and doubts melted away.

On one of those afternoons when the air gets warmer and the light shines longer, she comes to you. You were sitting down on a log, letting time pass while you carved a figure out of wood. It’s something that always made her smile, how you could still cling to humanity in a place like this. She couldn’t. They couldn’t.

Since the evening was nearing, everyone was finishing up their tasks, sitting by the fire or losing track of time. You looked up to see Lottie’s gaze fixated down on you. “Oh, Lottie. Wha-” you couldn’t finish your words, because the moment you stood up, she took your face in her hands and leaned down to kiss you.

The more time passed, the rougher she had become with you. Her teeth pulled at your bottom lip, her tongue exploring your mouth, her breath heavy against your skin. All of that, in front of every one of your friends.

You couldn’t let yourself be seen by anyone for a while, especially because Lottie had followed you to your tent.

She follows you; no matter where you go, you've always got her eyes on you.

Resting inside your tent? Lottie peeks at you.

Hunting with Natalie? She gives you a protection token and prays for you while you are away.

Eating meat by the fire? She watches as your teeth sink into it.

You think it’s a little weird sometimes, but you know she means well.

And don’t get me started on the rituals.

They are divided into two categories: the ones that are performed in front of everyone, and the ones that only you two share. Despite the height of the experience of a group ritual, it's the private ones that are her favorite.

She wakes you in the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep and the air is cool. You follow her into the woods, away from the camp. She tells you that the Wilderness has asked her for a sacrifice tonight, and that that sacrifice is you. She tells you that It wants to hear you scream into the night, wants to feel you writhe above the ground it rules over.

So you sit on an old tree stump, big enough to let you sit comfy on it. Lottie slowly descends down your body, until her face is nestled right where you need her the most. Thanks to her height, she has no problems in placing your legs on her shoulders; hell, you are even slightly curved upwards because of it.

She dives right down, taking you between her lips, workships you until her name echoes between the trees. Under the spring’s moon and stars only you and her exist.

Only with you she can still be human.

You are her god, and she’ll be your servant until she dies.

When you get back to camp, you’re greeted by a tired Taissa sitting by the fire, with deep eyebags, looking at you as if she could kill you with her gaze.

“You should really keep your voice down…”.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #🦠 anon #maya writes

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novaursa · 9 months ago

Note

Hello my love! I absolutely adore your writings and wanted to send a request that might prompt some imagination.

I would love a fic where the reader is velaryon (rhaenyras daughter) and married to cregan stark through a marriage alliance. They have grown to love eachother and have one child, a young son, and reader has a dragon. Reader is a dragon rider and may ride into battle with her dragon for her mother’s cause.

Whilst cregan is needed at the wall, a handful of men—sent by the greens in response to blood and cheese—sneak into winterfell with a mission; kill/take readers dragon or pay the price with her son. After killing the guards and a fight where reader tries to defend herself and her son, (maybe resulting in reader getting injured) the men give reader the option. Her dragon or her son. (I’ll leave the choice/what happens up to you 🤭)

cregan soon gets word about what has happened and rushes back to the aftermath.

it would be an honour if you were to even consider my ask 🥰

thank you for all you do and the joy you bring to this side of tumblr <3

The Cycle

- Summary: Cregan leaves with his duty to the Wall and you are left alone with a choice Larys Strong brings.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and is bonded with Grey Ghost.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Alternative scenario: one for the price of two

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, dear anon. ☺️❤️

Winterfell is quieter than you have ever known it. The grand halls that once echoed with the clamor of swords and laughter are hushed, the absence of Cregan’s men leaving an emptiness that stretches through every corridor. Outside, the sky is smothered in a blanket of heavy clouds, the winds howling mournfully, as if they sense the danger that lingers just beyond the gates.

Your son, Eddard, sleeps soundly in his cradle, his tiny fists curled by his face, the sight of him softening the edges of your worry. You brush a gentle kiss to his brow, your thoughts drifting to Cregan, away at the Wall with his men, fulfilling his duties to the Night’s Watch. The last thing he said to you before leaving echoes in your mind.

“Winterfell is safe. You are safe.” His grey eyes were serious, his hand warm against your cheek as he spoke.

You had believed him then, believed in the strength of the castle walls and the loyalty of the men who guarded it. But you can’t shake the unease prickling at the back of your neck, a mother’s intuition whispering warnings in your ear.

The first scream splits the night like an axe through ice. You jolt upright, heart hammering, and before you can even grasp what is happening, the door to your chambers bursts open. Figures, shadowed and swift, flood the room. Larys Strong’s men, their faces obscured by masks, their blades gleaming in the dim light.

“Stay back!” you cry out, instinctively placing yourself between them and Eddard’s crib. Your hand reaches for the dagger hidden beneath your pillow, but one of them is faster, knocking it from your grip and seizing your wrist with bruising force.

“Princess Velaryon, or is it just Lady Stark now? There’s no need for heroics,” the leader sneers, his voice a sickly mix of mockery and menace. “We’re here to deliver a message.”

They drag you from the room, your protests muffled by a rough hand clamped over your mouth. Your heart pounds as they force you down the twisting stairs, through the empty halls, until you’re thrust out into the freezing night. Your breath plumes in the air as you look up, dread curling in your stomach.

Grey Ghost is there, your dragon, your bond. Chained and wounded, his scales stained with blood, his wings pinned cruelly to the ground. He lets out a weak, rumbling growl as he sees you, his eyes gleaming with pain and anger.

“No…” you whisper, struggling against the iron grip of your captors. “No, please—”

Larys Strong steps forward then, his smile a twisted, grotesque parody of civility. “You see, Y/N, the Dowager Queen in King’s Landing sends her regards. The blood of a child for the blood of a child, was it not?”

The horror of what he means dawns on you, a sickening wave of realization that turns your limbs to lead. The butcher and the ratcatcher. The trap your mother and Daemon had laid for the Greens. And now, here in the cold North, the Greens have come for you.

“Your dragon or your son,” Larys says softly, almost kindly, as if he were offering you a choice of fine wines. “One lives. One dies. You decide.”

You can barely breathe, the cold air clawing at your throat as you shake your head in disbelief. “No… please, don’t do this… Eddard is just a babe, he’s done nothing—”

Larys cocks his head, feigning sympathy. “Nor did little Jaehaerys. Yet your mother saw to his death, didn’t she?”

Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to stand tall, to meet his gaze. “If you kill him, I swear on the gods, old and new, I will burn you all to ash.”

Larys’s smile widens, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Such fire. But threats won’t change anything, my lady. You have until the count of ten.”

The men around you tighten their grip, and you know, with a cold, sick certainty, that they will carry out his command. That you will lose one, either your sweet son, innocent and helpless, or Grey Ghost, who has fought beside you, who has bled and burned for your family’s cause.

“One,” Larys begins, his voice calm, measured.

You look at Eddard, bundled against the biting cold, his eyes wide and trusting as they meet yours. He doesn’t understand. He’s too young to understand what is being asked of you.

“Two.”

Grey Ghost lets out a low, mournful wail, his tail lashing weakly against the chains that bind him. You can feel his pain, his fear, through the bond you share, a connection forged in fire and blood.

“Three.”

The world narrows to the beat of your heart, the silent plea in Eddard’s eyes, the agony in Grey Ghost’s. How can you choose? How can any mother be asked to make such a choice?

“Four.”

Your hands are shaking, the words trapped in your throat. You want to scream, to beg, to offer anything, everything, if it will just make this nightmare end.

“Five.”

But there is no mercy in Larys’s gaze, no compassion in the men who hold you.

“Six.”

Grey Ghost’s roar rises, a desperate, broken sound that tears through the night.

“Seven.”

Eddard’s small, soft cry, frightened and confused, cuts through your soul.

“Eight.”

You look at Larys, the man who holds your fate in his hands, and you know that there is no victory here, no way to save them both.

“Nine.”

“I choose…” The words scrape out of you, each one a knife to your heart. “I choose my son.”

Larys’s smile is slow, triumphant, as if he had won some great game. He turns, gestures to his men. “Kill the dragon.”

“No!” The scream rips from your throat as they move toward Grey Ghost, their weapons drawn. You struggle, kicking, biting, but they hold you fast, forcing you to watch as the blades rise and fall, as your dragon, your beloved Grey Ghost, thrashes and roars, his blood staining the snow red.

You sob, your heart shattering with each cruel blow, each gasping breath your dragon takes. He fought for you, for your family, and now he dies, his life ended by your choice, your terrible, necessary choice.

When it is over, the silence is deafening, the night air thick with the smell of blood and death. Larys releases you then, his gaze almost pitying. “There, you see? It wasn’t so difficult.”

You collapse to your knees, your body shaking with grief and rage, unable to tear your eyes from Grey Ghost’s still form. Eddard cries out, and you gather him to you, clutching him close, his tiny warmth the only anchor in a world that has gone cold and dark.

Larys steps back, his work done, his men already withdrawing into the shadows. “Remember, Lady Stark,” he calls over his shoulder. “A debt paid in blood can always be collected again.”

As the night closes in around you, the promise of vengeance burns in your veins. You have lost so much, but you will not break. You will rise from this. For your son. For Grey Ghost. And you will see the Greens pay for every drop of blood they have spilled.

The journey back to Winterfell is swift and relentless, Cregan pushing his horse hard across the snow-swept landscape. There’s a weight in his chest, a gnawing dread that had taken root the moment he received the ravens’ grim message at the Wall. The North is no stranger to death and violence, but the attack on Winterfell, the heart of his home, is a scar he never thought he’d bear.

As the castle looms into view, his heart stutters at the sight. The once proud and imposing stronghold is shrouded in a somber silence, the gates barely guarded, the towers and walls bearing the signs of a vicious struggle. It’s as if the very soul of Winterfell has been drained away, leaving only a husk.

He rides through the gate, dismounting even before his horse fully stops. The few men left in the yard stand grim and silent, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion and grief. There are still bloodstains on the stones, patches of crimson stark against the pristine snow, a testament to the horrors that have transpired.

“Where is she?” he demands, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Where is my wife?”

One of his men, Ser Bryndon, steps forward, his face lined with fatigue and sorrow. “In the Great Hall, my lord. She’s… she hasn’t left her chambers much since the attack.”

Cregan’s heart clenches. He brushes past them, striding through the courtyard, the cold biting at his exposed skin, but he hardly feels it. Every step echoes in the eerily quiet halls, the silence pressing in around him like a vice.

When he reaches the Great Hall, he pauses, bracing himself for what he might find. The heavy wooden doors creak open under his hand, and he steps inside, his eyes sweeping the shadowed space.

There, at the far end of the hall, you sit by the fire, a small, fragile figure in the vast, empty room. You are clutching Eddard to your chest, his small form bundled in blankets, your body curled protectively around him. The flames cast flickering shadows across your face, highlighting the dark circles beneath your eyes, the pallor of your skin.

“Y/N…” His voice is rough, almost breaking, as he crosses the room in a few long strides.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes red and hollow, and for a moment, you just stare at him as if unsure if he’s real or another cruel vision conjured by your grief. Then, with a broken sob, you are in his arms, clutching at his furs, your body trembling with the force of your anguish.

“Cregan…” Your voice is a ragged whisper, muffled against his chest. “They took him from me. They took Grey Ghost.”

He holds you tightly, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling your son. His heart twists at the sight of you, at the haunted look in your eyes, the way you cling to him as if he is the only thing anchoring you to this world. “I’m here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Your breath shudders out of you in a broken gasp, and you shake your head. “It’s not your fault… It’s them. Larys Strong… he made me choose, Cregan. He made me choose between Eddard and Grey Ghost.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He can feel your pain, your guilt, as if it were his own. He tightens his hold on you, his jaw clenched against the fury and helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. “You did what you had to do,” he says fiercely, his voice low and steady. “You protected our son. That’s what matters.”

But he knows, even as he says it, that it will never be enough to ease the agony in your heart. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you curl in on yourself, as if trying to shield yourself from a blow that has already struck. And the sight of it breaks something deep inside him.

“I should have been here,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you both.”

You pull back slightly, your hand coming up to cup his face, your touch gentle despite the tremor in your fingers. “You are here now,” you say, your voice a soft, wavering thread. “That’s what I need. You and Eddard… we’ll get through this. Somehow.”

He nods, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He looks down at your son, at the innocence in his small face, the way he sleeps so peacefully despite the storm that has raged around him. Cregan’s heart aches with love and sorrow and a fierce, unyielding determination.

“I will make them pay,” he vows quietly, his voice hard with the promise. “For every drop of blood, for every tear, I will see them suffer.”

He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, the fire of your own resolve rekindling in the depths of your eyes. “We’ll make them pay,” you agree, your voice firmer now, a steel edge beneath the sorrow.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as if he can somehow shield you from all the hurt and loss that has been inflicted upon you. “Rest now, Y/N. I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as he says the words, he knows there will be no rest for either of you, not truly. Not until the debt has been paid in blood and fire.

Later, when you’ve finally fallen into a fitful sleep, he steps outside, his breath fogging in the frigid air. The courtyard is almost deserted, the few men left tending to the grim task of clearing the bodies, the fallen. And there, on the far side, lies the massive, still form of Grey Ghost, his once-silver scales now dull and bloodstained.

Cregan approaches slowly, his heart heavy as he takes in the sight of your dragon, his body broken and scarred from the fight that cost him his life. He reaches out, his hand resting against the cooling scales, and he bows his head, grief and rage roiling within him.

“I swear,” he murmurs, his voice a low, fierce vow, “I will see justice for you, for my family. The Greens will pay for this treachery.”

The wind howls through the empty yard, the promise of vengeance carried on its bitter, biting breath.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #grey ghost

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ask-forsaken-misfits · 1 month ago

Note

Shedletsky how do you feel about your evil child

"WHAT!! I have a child?"

"HAH! just kidding, I know what you're referring to"

"to put it simply, that thing is not my child anymore. she's a danger to my friends. I will do everything in my power to stop them. no matter what it takes"

#Forsaken #Forsaken Shedletsky #Forsaken ask blog #🍗 // Sword Fighting On The Heights // Shedletsky #💔 // Notes Left Behind // inbox #💔 // Hidden In Shadows // anon

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swanimagines · 10 months ago

Text

Teen Wolf: Imagine being Derek’s sister and him finding out that you’re secretly dating Stiles.

requested by anon

Note: nowadays all requests are done straight to asks, this is my old template of posting and I no longer have their asks!

Note 2: A reminder again that in all my newer fics where reader is someone's sibling/child or some other relative, they're always adopted, not related by blood!

When you first met Scott and Stiles, you wouldn’t have believed that one day, you’d end up falling in love with the latter. Your first meeting hadn’t been… good, if you were honest. You saw them as a threat, as did your brother, so your first words to Stiles had been “stay out of this, human”.

Seeing where that meeting brought you now had been completely unexpected. Stiles had somehow gotten enchanted by you, and you soon realised he had a crush on you — despite you having been so harsh at him when he had tried to defend Scott.

And more surprises were coming. Him fumbling and being awkward, at the loss of words before you, you found it cute. Cute. A human, you found a human cute.

You tried to hide it, how you were warming up for him. How he got you to smile, how you started to enjoy his company. It wasn’t logical, it was foolish. And especially when Derek hated Stiles, you having feelings for the boy just didn’t fit the picture.

But, your feelings just wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you tried to suppress them, and eventually you just had to blurt them out to him. He just stood there stunned, looking at you for a moment before he started grinning like he had just won in a lottery. And you knew that he kind of had, he had had the biggest crush on you for a long time and now you told him you felt the same way.

But you still needed to keep it hidden from your brother, in fact Scott and the Sheriff were the only ones who knew. You snuck out almost every day after school to hang out with Stiles and there you were at a park, in the shadow of an old oak, heads pressed together and holding hands.

This was one of those days. You two were sitting in the park, beside a pond full of ducks. Stiles had brought a bag of seeds with him, and you fed the ducks together. You were quieter than usual, and Stiles nudged you.

“What are you thinking about?” he mumbled, handing you a few seeds.

“I think Derek is suspecting something,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “I can’t help but think that he’s been watching us, he acts so weird. I don’t know what he will do if he finds out about us.”

You threw the seeds to the ducks, making them swarm at your feet. Stiles sighed, looking up for a moment. You knew he wanted to mutter “creep” but you appreciated he didn’t. You took his hand. “I’m not leaving you, in case you’re afraid of that. Even if Derek will try to lock me up.”

Stiles nodded, squeezing your hand back. “I know.”

You sat there for a moment longer, until the seeds ran out and Stiles shook the bag towards the quacking ducks, before throwing it into the trashcan and leaving the park with you. You walked in silence for a moment, before Stiles turned to you. “Wanna come watch a movie? Your brother can’t follow us there, Dad has too many security cameras for that.”

You scoffed. “As if that’d keep him away. But you’re right about it being safer there. He might not want to come in and risk your dad seeing him threatening you.”

He took the jeep keys from his pocket and fumbled with them for a moment. “So… you’re coming?”

You nodded, taking his arm. “Yeah, I’d like to have a good laugh with a comedy before going home.”

—

As the credits rolled, you realised how late it had gotten. The clock had struck midnight a while ago, and you could almost picture Derek tapping his foot impatiently like the Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh. So you reluctantly retreated from Stiles’s warm embrace, stretching out before looking at him. “I should go.”

He sighed, absentmindedly running his thumb across your hand. “Yeah, you probably should.”

You stood up from the couch, swinging your bag over your shoulder, letting Stiles walk you to the door. Once you reached the porch, he leaned against the door frame and you looked at him, biting your lip. “Thanks for tonight,” you mumbled. “I had fun.”

Stiles nodded. “Me too.”

You thought for a moment, but then decided to take the leap — you stepped closer to him. “I think a proper good night wish could be better than just saying it.”

Stiles’s cheeks turned slightly red, and he stuttered slightly. “O-oh?”

“Yeah.”

And then, with one last breath, you gently grasped the collar of his hoodie and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss you see in movies, it was rather short, in between a peck and a proper kiss. But still, when you stepped back, Stiles grinned like he had won the lottery all over again, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He blinked, straightening up. “Goodnight.”

Then you turned, walking into the night with the biggest grin on your face. The night was chilly, but you felt like your heart was jumping around so much that it almost overheated you. Not that you minded, you were happier than in a long time, and almost felt like skipping through the forest.

Crack.

You stopped dead in your tracks, looking around. “Derek?”

Sure enough, he stepped out from the darkness, and you froze. “I… I was just on my way home.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t lie. I saw what happened.”

You cocked your head, trying to act clueless. “Saw what happen?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The kiss. I saw you kissed him. Didn’t you just tell me there’s nothing going on with him?”

You tried to play stupid and test the waters, laughing. “Nice try. You haven’t been near me today, I haven’t smelled you.”

He shook his head, sighing. “Which is exactly why I’m concerned. You’re losing your focus. What if the Hunters will get you because you’re too busy staring at Stiles’s eyes?”

You kept walking, pushing past him. “You’re overreacting. It was just a kiss.”

He turned around, starting to walk with you. “Just a kiss, and numerous secret dates after school for weeks, or is it months now?”

You groaned, figuring it’s no use to keep pretending. “Alright! We have… something going on with him. But it’s still early, and I’m not abandoning the pack because of him if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“He can’t protect you. The Hunters will use him against you,” Derek said quietly. “You could die because of him.”

“His pack—”

He interrupted you, “He doesn’t have a pack, he’s not one of us. Even if he pretends to belong in Scott’s pack, he isn’t, and will never be, one of them.”

You sighed. You knew he was mostly right. Stiles, being a human, could easily be used against you. He hadn’t learned about everything yet, nor Scott had in that matter. You had tried to guide them, to help, but so far it was going slowly. And you knew that each day, the risks grew. You understood your brother, you had gone through the exact same feelings, wondering and pondering and pacing around your room, before finally concluding you weren’t able to keep it inside you. You had brought up all your worries to Stiles once you decided to tell him about your feelings, and he assured you that Scott would help if any problems came up. You still had doubts, but chose to push them aside for the sake of living. You had done what you could, telling him and Scott about the risks and Stiles still wanted to see what would become of you two.

You stopped, looking up for a moment. “I know it’s dangerous, Derek. But what do you expect me to do? Ignore my feelings, end my relationship? It wouldn’t be fair for me, even less for him. He signed up for this, because he wants to be with me.”

Derek stopped as well, stepping in front of you. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you to ignore how you feel, but you need to be smart about this. Think about how many times we watched our friends get hurt because they got too close?”

“We’re not children, we can look after ourselves just fine,” you groaned.

He raised his eyebrows. “Can you? Because to me, it looks like one of you will be dead soon, and—.”

You shook your head, raising your hands up. “Stop.”

You stood there in silence for a long while, before Derek crossed his arms again. “You’re not letting this go, are you?”

You huffed. “No. I can only promise to come to you for help if I need any.”

He thought for a moment, and pursed his lips. “Alright. But don’t expect me to like it, or him.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Derek.”

He didn’t say anything, just turned, and you followed him home. Maybe things between Stiles and Derek would be alright in the end after all.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #reader insert #my works #romantic #platonic

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knightyoomyoui · 1 month ago

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"All I Ever Need" - PART 1 : Hell In Heaven

ft. TWICE's Yoo Jeongyeon (x Male Reader)

TYPE: Fluff, Smut, Light Angst

WORD COUNT: 3928

NOTE: Another Jeongyeon series! To the anon who is waiting for a Jeongyeon smut to come out, here it is. My plan is to divide the story into 10 chapters and update it all starting from this month. Hoping I can complete it before I quit writing at the end of 2025. Enjoy goth mommy Jeongyeon that I've never been done before.

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

TAGS: missionary, 69, mutual arrangement, doggystyle, anal sex, oral sex, introvert OC, rich girl jeongyeon

DESCRIPTION: Two broken souls finding unexpected refuge in each other when YN LN—a shy, self-effacing photographer—is evicted during the middle of a bad weather, he’s rescued by Yoo Jeongyeon, a wealthy and feared goth businesswoman with a hidden longing to feel vulnerable.

===START===

The rain came down hard and unceasing, a cold shroud thrown over the city's dark streets. Water collected in the crevices of the pavement and dripped from the split awnings like a persistent, melancholy breath. Behind the veil of night and rain, a single figure stood under a stammering streetlamp, indistinct. You held a tattered canvas bag and a scuffed camera case, the only belongings you had remaining. Your black hoodie was waterlogged, clinging to your gaunt body. You didn't move much, as if the rain had soaked into your skeleton and numbed your determination. The world around you dissolved—a haze of neon lights, blaring automobiles, and muffled footsteps. You'd been evicted that afternoon. You remember the landlord's final angry words, but now you hardly even hear them. It was the cold against your skin now, the burden of each unpaid rent, each missed attempt at catching up, and your sister—ay in a hospital bed, quiet, breakable, waiting. A black sleek car purred down the road alongside him, engine purred low, rain pattered on its gleaming hood. A passenger within, Yoo Jeongyeon observed. The city recognized her as untouchable—a powerful woman with a reputation as dark and uncompromising as her fashion. Tonight, however, something vulnerable in beholding you alone in the midst of the rain, with those suitcases and bags you carry, awakened something within her—a quiet despair she knew lay beneath the surface.

Wait, stop." she instructed the driver, her tone low and firm. She opened the door and got out, holding an umbrella.

"Maam, watch out!" The driver shouted.

Heels tapping on the wet pavement as she walked towards you. Looking up, a form emerged that merged with the black shadows. You glanced up, surprised. Your own eyes were deep pools of weariness, but there was no bitterness or rage—just a weary resignation of this harsh destiny in your life.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentler than she normally permitted herself to be. You swallowed hard. "I'll be alright, miss." you mumbled, lowering your head.

Jeongyeon stepped closer, raising the umbrella over both of you. "It's raining. You're soaking wet. Why are you carrying your stuff under this awful weather?" You shook your head. "It doesn't matter. “I won’t be ordering my driver to stop if your situation don’t matter to me,” she said softly. “You better do the same. What happened?” He glanced down at his hands, filled with nothing but callouses from the burden he always carry with him. “Got kicked out. Couldn’t pay rent.”

Jeongyeon felt disdain that you’ve suffered through. The strength of the wind and the rain alerted her that staying here outside won’t do no good for them. “Let’s continue our talk later, get into my car.”

“W-what?”

Just listen to me, I can't have you here cold and wet outside, taking the storm in just because things haven't gone well for you." Jeongyeon told her. "Now come in and we can finish our conversation at home.

Your arms were held by Jeongyeon and opted to pull you through the car as the driver helps the door. She pushes you in and she sat next to you. The car drove away from the scene. To eliminate the suffocating awkwardness and tension within, Jeongyeon cleared her throat and opted to start the conversation.

"So why did you get kicked out-

As she looked over to her side, the stranger was now sleeping peacefully, your head hanging out of the window. Jeongyeon and the driver met each other's eyes in the rearview mirror. "He must've gone through hell in order to get knocked out like this."

She continued staring at your sleeping face, and Jeongyeon felt something ignited within her curiosity.

The following day, you woke up in her mansion's guest room wrapped in plush velvet curtains and comfortable blankets, a room where the rain outside during last night must've been far away and inconsequential. Prior to rising to the bed, a small, glossy desk, a note was waiting for him:

"If you're staying, we'll talk soon about what you can do for me." - J

Eyes creased in bewilderment, you step out of her room which is situated in the second floor of her gigantic simple home. Providing your eyes with a walkthrough of the astounding exquisite pieces of furniture and artworks on the walls and ceilings, you questioned yourself whether this woman whom you met yesterday evening isn't merely a kind of a typical benevolent citizen who chanced upon your wretched condition in the rain.

At the end of the steps, you are now in what should be the living room. Three figures were observed working with the food at the kitchen, accompanied by them has the unmistakable attire, a black oversized shirt, thigh high shorts and a rumpled hair that directs the maids through the preparation.

One of the maids could have noticed you just gaping at them uncomfortably, so the woman turned around. You get the first glimpse of her appearance. Black eyeliners, not so thick make-up, a gloomy aura that symbolizes her gothic personality and taste. are what make her interesting and distinctive.

"You're awake." Jeongyeon dried her hands with a towel. " "Do you get what I'm saying on that point?" she asked as she started pouring coffee in two cups.

You shook his head. "Not really."

She exited the kitchen and walks toward you, her features became clearer to be seen by you. She's truly beautiful, her aura bellows fierce and bold, and her physique was equally as unbelievable as her facial appearance. She provided you with another cup of coffee she prepared. You and she are now sitting together in front of the dining table.

She moderated her tone softer than ever, a departure from her style. "I'm making an offer on a condition to our deal if you permit me to assist you by remaining here on my property for as long as you want."

"And that would be?"

"I desire someone to be in charge of my life—a secretary, yes, but more than that. Someone who can hold space for me when I'm not well."

You scowled, not anticipating this type of request. "Hold space?" “Be there when I’m overwhelmed. Help me find balance. Not just with my work, but with myself.” You lowered your eyes, the impact of her words weighing heavily. "I don't know if I can do that. Whatever you've been dealing with, I'm at least as bad as you are now. And, you're also rich. Why couldn't you get a psychiatrist to handle it?"

"Because what I desire, couldn't just be fulfilled by anybody, not even a psychiatrist you're talking of. I like it with… the likes of you."

"Oh, so you're into the negative meets negative for a positive result, huh?" "Guess you can do that." She smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. "What I got inside me must get treated at any time I desire it to, and I want whoever that person is to be with me whenever I ask to handle it for me. And I found you to be the… company I prefer to."

"Then you want to remain here, with me doing all these… whatever can amuse you?"

"A win-win deal for us. You get to discover your temporary refuge while I enjoy what I desire, someone to keep me company as my personal secretary whom I shall be tagging along with me."

You ponder her proposal carefully. She awaits your response, simultaneously providing you these enticing stare that makes you believe that taking her deal will give you an entry into your life that will provide you greater chance to live by it without any more trouble. Just calmness, ease, and satisfaction.

I know you're taking this seriously, but I'm not doing this like as if your life depends on it. I just want you help me as much as I help you." Jeongyeon said. "And you don't have to be perfect. You just have to try."

You gulped hard, the softness of her solace giving you comfort. "I don't want to fail you.

Jeongyeon extended her hand, touching his with an easiness which surprised you. "You won't. Because this isn't just work. It's trust. And I'm willing to trust you if you really need it."

He gave a harsh laugh. "But not that ease. You don't know me, Jeongyeon. You can't just do that just because you pity me."

"And I want to know. I do pity you, yes… but my plan of assisting you was evident. This, proposition between us. I'm doing this instead because you caught my interest, YN." she stated, catching herself off guard that caused her to freeze for a moment after uttering those words. "Why did you even turn out like that? What happened yesterday anyway? You've not been able to tell me you see because you dozed off on how much you suffered being out there.

You let out a deep sigh and ran your fingers through your hair, worrying it as you rubbed your head to relax. Lip bitten, voice hardly above a whisper. "Work's been… slow. I'm a photographer. Studio job, not a lot of money. But my sister's struggling to live—she's in the hospital. And medical bills just keep adding up." Jeongyeon's eyes softened. She was surprised at how difficult your predicament really is than she can ever think of. "I'm sorry." You shrugged, attempting to conceal the pain. "It's life. I'm used to it. Now that I already accepted that it hasn't been doing me good for a long time now." She looked at you a moment longer. "You don't look like a man used to giving up." "Looks can be deceiving." You grinned painedly. "I can measure the limit now with my fingers at how much more left I was able to hold out with all of this. But I can't, not yet. Not without taking my sister out there in good health first."

"If that's the case, then say it." Jeongyeon pressed forward, daggers flashing in her eyes to push you towards the correct option. "Say that you require this. I'm here presently, would you leave me be?"

"I have a home. A company that I ran. All that, I can offer. You don't need to be alone."

"Why would you ever do that?"

She smiled, a soft, unfamiliar one that curved her black lipstick-covered lips. "Because sometimes, the strongest people need someone to hold their hand."

Emotional conflicts, the conflict of your choices, and the desperation of survival. Your tears erupted, head bobbing in agreement. "I do. I want to try it."

Jeongyeon was delighted at his thorough admission. Her fingers running over your skin sending shudders running through your nerves. You turned your eyes back to her, greeting the now changed side of her which you were on the verge of seeing for yourself. “You seem struggling all this time. Now that we have arranged ourselves, would you like me to demonstrate already how much we could work ourselves out?”

"Where are you leading me?

"Somewhere ideal for us to enjoy the solidarity we've always dreamed of."

She took your hand and led you up. Shoving you into her bedroom. Dark, mysterious, and radio silent, she closed her door as she attacks you to the bed. Sitting over you with her whole body, she cradled both sides of your head as she looks at you greedily. "This will be our haven for the lost, such as ourselves. Remain here with me for as long as you desire, and I am willing for you to discover where you can belong once more." "Won't you prefer that, one like me, who will take you in with open arms?" She mumbled to herself, fingers tracing at your chest.

"Y-yes…"

"And I… could let you explore what everyone always fail to learn about me. Whenever you want to. Take me with you, YN. For now, by pleasure."

She kissed your ferociously, her hands fisting your hair as she roughly makes out with you, grinding onto your crotch. A quick glance at her fiercer and hotter kavorka, her sharp predator eyes and messy strand of her short bobbed-cut hair sprawled around her face, she breathed heavily as she guided your hands through her sides.

"Escape this cruel world with me, YN. Find delight in me and show how much you need it."

Your hands extended to her breasts, which remained covered by her t-shirt. Barely made her whine. She did not want any interruption, so she left your body as she stood next to the bed, taking off her clothes to expose something marvelous she;s been concealing all along in these loose clothes.

Standing before you in her purple and black blended lingerie, she seductively approached you and crawled over your reclined body. Removing your clothes as well, it crossed your limit to tolerate this sexy view of hers. Sitting up, you yanked Jeongyeon towards you to kiss her frenziedly again.

She sat on your lap, crotch to crotch she grinds anew, your left land holding the nape of her head and the other at her lace-covered breast, squeezing.

You tossed her onto the bed. She heaved a heavy sigh as she observes you removing your lower part of clothes too. "Yes, give it to me, YN. Do it."

Your cock poked out of your briefs, Jeongyeon was amazed by its size and girth, she guessed it's an estimated 7 inches. She felt your hand pulling her waist down, her legs spread open over you. Putting aside the skimpy clothing that covers her bare pussy, you slowly rub your length against her slit before entering.

"Ugh fuck, y-you're so huge." Jeongyeon gritted her teeth as she could feel your size intruding into her innards, pushing her walls to their limits she thought. "Mean it when you fuck me. You can have me any time, YN. It's one of my means of paying you back, so don't waste it. Bring all you got."

"As you wish." You began to move as you observed Jeongyeon's face lift with strong thrusts you're imparting to her. You increased your face, starting to screw her in the same manner that she want it to be done, her limp limbs dangling around her like wings as you seal her gasping mouth with your lips again.

Trapped in your body, Jeongyeon could only push you further into her by enclosing both her arms and legs around you. Her voice breaking into all the moans she emits with the ferocity of your skin smacking against each other.

Exiting her mouth, you slammed her body by touching her lips. "Uh uh f-fuck yes, go slow and then deep. That feels so fucking good, mmh." She praises the way you stroke your cock on her wet pussy.

Take me in whatever ways you can come up with, don't hesitate before me." Jeongyeon touches your arms to indicate stopping at pleasuring her in a normal missionary position. "You can dominate me, I'm all yours YN."

"Promise me you'll b-be o-okay, Jeongyeon?

She smiled, adamant at her reaction.

"Don't mind me. I've been yearning for this so badly, the sensation of being ruined and dominated. And I want you to exert all your energy, YN."

She turns around, placing her arms and knees on the mattress, bending in front of you. "What do you think about us beginning from you taking me from behind. What do you think?" She said as she rocked her massive meaty butt shaped beautifully in her panties, luring you.

No more words required, you sniffed her butt through her underwear before pulling them down, revealing her fat skin. You buried your face in between her flesh, Jeongyeon begins to moan at your mouth gnawing through her magnificent hole. Adding to it with your hands rubbing her clit, it challenged Jeongyeon's patience to stay still at her level with all the teasing she's had so far.

"E-enough of that, fuck me hard now YN!"

Your regained rod passes smoothly through the crevice of her buttcheeks. "Where do you want me to put it in?" "You're already there, YN. Bury it up to my ass this time. Break me."

You pushed slowly in, watching her tight ring stretch to create an entrance for your enormous cock into her tight bum. Her muscles accommodate your girth well but slightly painful at its stiffness. You can very well sense that Jeongyeon is still a virgin in her precious areas. Your cock managed to be inserted, and Jeongyeon lay motionless on her position.

Give me a moment to get used to, please. I-it's my first time." She confessed. You were flabbergasted, this is the level of faith she's been placing in you and really does live up to it.

"S-sure, go ahead."

Jeongyeon whined as she can sense your heat, your size, and the subtle pulsating of your shaft within her. "O-okay, go on. Then like before, take me fast. You nodded, slowly pulling at first before pushing again to build a momentum as you begin getting into the rhythm again. With Jeongyeon getting used now to this new position, you went all out now on her ass, pounding it with strength as her skin rippling into contact with your crotch.

Her body shook with the bed. Her moans and screams louder, her hot back figure making this sex with her feels so great to watch. You still didn't show her mercy because she insisted on her, while she enhances more pleasure by fingering her cunt as you do yours.

"S-shit, I'm cumming Jeongyeon!"

"I-I'm also getting close. Do it inside, I want to feel you."

"Agh fuck… I'm gonna release it!"

Mouthing a lewd "ugh," Jeongyeon's eyes widened as you plunged your cock into her to the hilt, filling her ass with your hot cum as she squirted her juices through the sheets and some onto your thighs and knees. Throwing yourself on the bed, you assisted her in riding out your orgasms by delivering scant thrusts on her ass before departing.

You took yourselves some break first, with you holding her ass, liking how her skin slides off through the crack of her fingers. Jeongyeon purred at the sensation of her backside being touched, until she recalled something. "I haven't touched you yet. Do you like my ass that much?"

"Yes. It's so huge, sorry." You blushed and laughed. "It's my first time getting a hold of this."

"Don't be afraid, you can have it while you stay here." She smiled slyly. "But also, I can show you always that not my ass would be the only thing you'll drool for."

She pulled your shoulder down to place your body again. "How about this, why don't we do what we both want at once? I can then have your cock while you continue eating my ass and pussy. Sounds good?"

"Definitely."

Jeongyeon rotated so she can be stacked above your body in an opposite manner. Her face is now in front of your limp cock while her pussy and ass hovering at your face. “I’ll take the turn first this time.”

She takes your cock as she succulently eyed it, licking her lips and nipping at it lewdly. She releases a big gasp as her butt get pulled back so you can finally gorge on her plump pussy. "Mmh ahh~ Y-yes, lick my pussy like that, YN. I love how skilled your mouth is."

The goth woman joined you by rubbing your cock to full size once again. She could barely even wrap her hands about it. "Welcome back, you beast." She ran her tongue over your head, her smooth saliva coating your slit had your legs rigid.

Your humming made Jeongyeon shiver too, your breathing sending shocks to her pussy. A battle of delight, Jeongyeon takes her time exploring each part of your penis with her mouth while you waltz your tongue and kissed each spot on her pussy. Your hands forcefully massaging her ass once more, it may be your addiction where Jeongyeon must meet in the coming days.

Jeongyeon eventually sucks your cock into her mouth, her cheeks sucked in to apply more pressure in sucking. Both hands holding your testicles to assist your balls to create more load for her to target earlier. It did not take long as she doubled the effort by giving your shaft another effort of pumping as she provides you with a great blowjob.

Your gigantic penis wedged into the hot crevice of a short-haired goth bad girl as you devoured her out like its your final meal on planet Earth. She's there, hovering over your body, naked together, into her bedroom. It was like before you were merely having a sharing of emotions yet now, how things change so quickly with both of you now doing intimacy in an overdue sex to de-stress yourselves in this cruel world.

"Mmh fuck, you're making this so difficult for me to concentrate on your cock when you're going wild behind, sweetheart." Jeongyeon moans while wanking your cock in a rush and rubbing her ass against your face. "My pussy continues to leak due to your fingers." "Please try your best, i am feeling myself cumming again in no time."

She couldn't had to be instructed twice. Jeongyeon brings your cock back to her mouth, reciprocating your energy by bobbing her head rapidly down until her nose probes the base. You too hastened the flicking of your fingers in her cunt, slurping all the pre-cum that runs out.

Jeongyeon first, thighs clamping your head as she had you consume all of her juices to satisfy you from her seducing you since a while back. You nearly suffocated at how much honey nectar she offered for you, but it would not be a nuisance for you if you'll get knocked out with her pussy placed right on your face.

You mouthed swears and contented responses when Jeongyeon made you cum next. Limbs curled, tailbone lifted just so you can pummel your length and deepthroat this horny rich woman as you dump your another set of load down to her belly. She slowly withdrew her lips from your cock and licked all the drops remaining that your tip could not help but to drain.

"God, that was a lot." Jeongyeon wiped her mouth. "Having that much of amount everyday will surely keep me filled to the brim."

"Same can be said to you." You agreed. It made Jeongyeon blush.

"I-i've been holding it longer than you can ever think, okay? It just so happens that I get to meet you." Jeongyeon said, resting her head over your crotch while observing your hard cock slowly subside.

"But seriously, uhm… thank you for this, Jeongyeon. It was amazing, for a first time." You grinned, stroking your palm over her ass.

“I’m glad it was a great introductory for our newfound relationship, YN. Expect more for the next following days, but for now, rest and give yourself some time to sink it all in.”

Jeongyeon grabs her panties and her clothes as she dresses herself. “Because starting today, I’m going to change your life. J-just… make yourself comfortable staying by my side, and I’ll it all happen in an instant.”

She went out of her room, leaving you to ponder on all that went by and prepare yourself on the potential things that are still in the same but done differently which will ensue afterwards with this experience encountering a woman like Yoo Jeongyeon.

=== END OF PART 1 ===

#twice #kpop au #kpop oneshot #kpop fanfic #twice smut #jeongyeon smut #jeongyeon x male reader #twice x male reader #kpop smut

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baelabong · 11 months ago

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ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴘᴛ.2

(ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

rq; yes // wd: 5.5k words

Pairing: Knight!G!P!Karina x Princess!fem reader

note/warning: pt2 of hidden. ik that the anon requested something slightly differetn but i only saw the idea until after i wrote it BAHHHAHA. luckily it is slightly similar .... just a little yk. anyways. sex, g!p rina, creampie

Pt.1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat at Mark’s sudden proposal. The grand ballroom seems to quiet, as if the entire kingdom is waiting for her response. Mark’s eyes are filled with a mixture of hope and determination, but all Y/N can think about is Karina—her secret love, standing just out of sight.

Time seems to slow as Y/N processes the weight of the proposal. The alliance with Mark’s family would indeed be powerful, and it would secure her kingdom’s future. But at what cost? Her heart pounds as she contemplates the life she’d be forced to live—a life without Karina, where duty and appearances would take precedence over her own happiness.

Mark, sensing her hesitation, gently takes her hand. “Y/N,” he says softly, “I know this is sudden, but I believe we could be strong together. You and I could bring prosperity and peace to our kingdoms. Please, consider it.”

Y/N forces a smile, her mind racing for a response. She glances towards the shadows, where she knows Karina is watching. The thought of a life without her feels unbearable, yet she’s bound by duty and the expectations placed upon her. She can’t openly refuse Mark without risking scandal and unrest.

Finally, she speaks, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “Your Grace, this is a generous offer, and I am deeply honored by your proposal. But this is a significant decision, one that affects not just us, but our kingdoms. I must ask for time to consider it.”

Mark’s expression flickers with disappointment, but he quickly masks it with a gracious smile. “Of course, Princess. Take all the time you need. I’ll await your decision with hope.”

With a polite bow, Mark steps back, allowing Y/N a moment to breathe. She nods in response, her heart still racing as she watches him walk away. The court begins to buzz with whispers, but Y/N pays them no mind. All she can think about is getting to Karina.

As soon as she’s able, Y/N excuses herself from the ballroom. She quickly makes her way to the secluded corridor where she knows Karina is waiting. When she sees her knight, standing with an unreadable expression, the floodgates of her emotions break open.

“Karina…” Y/N begins, her voice trembling. “He proposed. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t… I couldn’t refuse him outright.”

Karina’s eyes darken, a mixture of pain and understanding evident in her gaze. She steps closer, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “I know,” she says softly, her voice strained. “You’re doing what you have to for your kingdom. But what about us, Y/N? Where do we stand?”

Y/N’s heart aches at the uncertainty in Karina’s voice. “I don’t know,” she admits, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t imagine a life without you, but if I accept his proposal, I’d be bound to him. I’d lose you.”

Karina pulls Y/N into a tight embrace, her voice filled with quiet desperation. “Then don’t accept it. We can find a way, Y/N. We can leave—escape this life and start anew. I can’t stand the thought of losing you to him.”

Y/N closes her eyes, resting her head against Karina’s shoulder as she tries to calm the storm inside her. The weight of duty and love pulls her in opposite directions, and she feels utterly torn. But one thing is clear: she can’t make this decision alone.

“Give me time,” Y/N whispers, her voice breaking. “I need to think. I need to figure out what to do.”

Karina nods, though the pain in her eyes remains. “I’ll wait for you, Y/N. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here.”

With that, they share a tender, lingering kiss, a reminder of the love they share and the difficult choices ahead. Y/N knows that whatever path she choose, it will change her life forever—and she can only hope she has the strength to make the right one.

—------

The next morning, Y/N wakes up to the sound of frantic knocking on her chamber door. Her heart skips a beat as she sits up, feeling the weight of the previous night’s turmoil still heavy on her shoulders. But as she sees the pale, trembling face of her lady-in-waiting as she enters, a deep dread settles in her chest.

“Your Highness,” the lady stammers, “it’s your father… The king… He’s—he’s gone.”

Y/N’s breath catches, and she feels a cold wave of shock wash over her. “What do you mean?” she whispers, already fearing the answer.

“They found him in his chambers this morning,” the lady-in-waiting explains, her voice thick with tears. “The royal physician says… he was poisoned.”

The words hit Y/N like a physical blow, and she staggers back, feeling as if the ground has been ripped out from beneath her. “No,” she gasps, her mind reeling. “That can’t be… Who would do such a thing?”

Before the lady can respond, Y/N rushes out of her chambers, her heart pounding in her ears. She navigates the winding corridors, her mind racing with horror and confusion, until she finds herself at the one place she feels she might find answers: Karina’s quarters.

She bursts through the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Karina stands by the window, her back to Y/N, seemingly calm despite the chaos erupting in the palace.

“Karina,” Y/N calls out, her voice breaking. “Tell me you know nothing of this… Tell me you had nothing to do with my father’s death!”

Slowly, Karina turns to face her, her expression unreadable. But as she takes a step closer to Y/N, something cold and resolute flickers in her eyes.

“I did this all for you, my queen,” Karina says, her voice steady but laced with a dark intensity. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect you, to free you from the chains that bind you. He was never going to let you be with me—he would have forced you to marry Mark, to fulfill some duty you never asked for.”

Y/N stares at Karina in disbelief, her heart breaking all over again. “You… you poisoned him?” she whispers, the words barely making it past her lips. “You killed my father?”

Karina steps closer, reaching out to Y/N, but she recoils, feeling a wave of nausea rise within her. “He was going to take you away from me, Y/N,” Karina says, her voice now tinged with desperation. “I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t lose you.”

Y/N feels like she’s drowning, caught between the love she feels for Karina and the horror of what she’s done. “You think this is what I wanted?” she cries, tears streaming down her face. “I never wanted this, Karina! How could you do something so monstrous and think it would make things better?”

Karina’s face crumples in pain, but she doesn’t back down. “I did it for us,” she insists. “For you. Now you’re free, Y/N. You don’t have to marry Mark, or anyone else. You can be with me, the way we’ve always wanted.”

But Y/N shakes her head, stepping back toward the door. “I can’t… I can’t even look at you right now,” she chokes out. “You took away my father, my family—everything I’ve ever known. How am I supposed to live with that?”

Karina’s eyes fill with tears as she watches Y/N retreat. “Y/N, please… I love you. I did this because I love you.”

Y/N hesitates at the door, her heart shattered into a million pieces. “Love?” she whispers bitterly. “This isn’t love, Karina. This is something else entirely.”

Y/N’s world felt like it was crumbling beneath her feet. The shock of Karina’s confession, the horror of what she had done—it was all too much. She turns to leave, needing to escape, needing to think. But before she can take another step, Karina’s voice, laced with desperation, pierces through her like a knife.

“Y/N, wait!” Karina’s voice cracks, her eyes wide with frantic desperation as she rushes toward Y/N, grabbing her arm. “Please, you have to understand—I did this for you! Everything I’ve done, it was all for you!”

Y/N tries to pull away, shaking her head, her thoughts a chaotic mess. “Karina… you killed my father,” she whispers, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. “How could you think this was for me? How could you—”

Before she can finish, Karina’s face twists with a wild mix of hurt, frustration, and something darker. In a surge of raw emotion, she pounces on Y/N, pushing her back against the nearest wall, pinning her there with a force that makes Y/N’s breath hitch.

“This is what you wanted!” Karina hisses through gritted teeth, her body pressing into Y/N’s, her hands gripping Y/N’s wrists tightly. “You said you didn’t want to marry Mark, you said you didn’t want to be queen—was that all a lie? Why can’t you just listen to me?”

Y/N’s mind is spinning, her heart racing as Karina’s words and touch overwhelm her senses. She feels trapped, not just by Karina’s physical hold, but by the intensity of the emotions crashing over her. “Karina, please, I—”

But Karina doesn’t let her finish. “Am I not enough for you, Y/N?” Karina’s voice is low and rough, trembling with barely contained fury. “Is that it? Do you want Mark instead? Is that what you want?” Her breath is hot against Y/N’s skin, and beads of sweat drip down Karina’s forehead, her eyes blazing with a desperate need for validation.

Y/N’s head feels foggy, the world spinning around her as Karina’s words sink in, tangling with her own confused emotions. Karina’s grip, her proximity, the raw intensity in her voice—it all leaves Y/N feeling lost, like she’s drowning in Karina’s desperation. “I… I don’t know, I…”

But Karina’s hold tightens, her nails digging into Y/N’s wrists as she pushes closer, her lips inches from Y/N’s ear. “If you wanted to marry Mark, just say it,” Karina growls, her voice harsh and desperate. “Tell me that everything we’ve had together meant nothing, that you’d throw it all away for him. Is that what you want, Y/N? Is it?”

Y/N’s resolve shatters under the weight of Karina’s onslaught, her mind clouded with confusion and a growing sense of helplessness. “No, no… Karina, I—” But the words that escape her lips are incoherent, lost in the storm of emotions tearing through her. She feels herself slipping, her mind giving way to the intensity of the moment, the lines between right and wrong blurring until all she can do is babble out whatever words come to her lips, desperate to calm Karina, to stop the spiraling chaos.

“I… I don’t want Mark, Karina… I don’t know… I just… I just want you…” The words spill out, barely making sense, driven by her overwhelming need to ease Karina’s pain, to make everything stop, even if just for a moment.

Karina’s grip softens slightly, a twisted sense of triumph flashing in her eyes as she hears Y/N’s words. “That’s right… It’s just us, Y/N… It’s always been just us,” she murmurs, her tone taking on a dangerous edge of satisfaction as she leans in closer, claiming Y/N in that moment, her breath hot against Y/N’s neck.

Y/N’s body reacts on instinct, her mind too lost in the whirlwind of emotions to resist, to think clearly. She clings to Karina, her words reduced to soft, incoherent murmurs, nodding weakly, her thoughts a chaotic mess of confusion, fear, and a deep, aching need for everything to be okay. But nothing is okay, and deep down, she knows it—she’s just too lost in Karina’s intensity to remember that right now.

Karina’s lips curl into a small, twisted smile as she presses herself against Y/N, her grip firm but no longer painful. “See?” she whispers, her voice almost soothing now, though it’s laced with a possessive edge. “This is what you wanted all along… just us… together…”

Y/N’s head lolls to the side, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she clings to Karina, too overwhelmed, too lost to protest anymore. All she can do is nod and whisper, “Just us… just us…” as the room spins around her, and everything fades into the background, leaving only Karina and the suffocating weight of their twisted connection.

———-

The grand hall was filled with the muted murmur of anticipation as the nobles and courtiers gathered, their eyes fixed on the ornate throne that awaited its new ruler. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the stone floor, but the room’s beauty was marred by an undercurrent of unease. Whispers about the sudden death of the former king, the strange circumstances surrounding it, and the swift rise of the new queen were still fresh in everyone’s minds.

Y/N stood at the foot of the throne, her heart pounding in her chest. She was draped in a gown of deep crimson, the color of power and blood, with a heavy golden crown resting atop her head. It was a crown that felt too heavy, too large for her, yet she couldn’t afford to falter now. Not with everything that had happened, not with Karina at her side, her ever-watchful gaze fixed on Y/N, a silent reminder of everything they had sacrificed to reach this moment.

The royal advisor stepped forward, holding the ancient scepter of the kingdom, his expression neutral as he presented it to Y/N. “Do you, Y/N, swear to rule this kingdom with wisdom, justice, and mercy?” His voice echoed in the vast hall, the words carrying the weight of centuries of tradition.

Y/N’s throat was dry, but she managed a nod, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her. “I swear it.”

The advisor inclined his head and placed the scepter in Y/N’s outstretched hand. The touch of the cold metal sent a shiver down her spine, but she gripped it tightly, willing herself to appear strong, composed, every inch the queen she was now expected to be.

“Then by the power vested in me,” the advisor continued, “I proclaim you, Y/N, Queen of this realm.”

A ripple of applause spread through the room, polite and restrained, but Y/N could sense the tension beneath it. She forced a smile as she ascended the steps to the throne, each movement measured and deliberate. As she reached the top, she hesitated for the briefest of moments before turning to sit upon the throne, the weight of the crown and scepter grounding her in the reality of her new position.

Beside her, Karina stood tall, dressed in regal attire that matched Y/N’s own, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous pride. As Y/N sat, Karina stepped forward, her hand lightly brushing against Y/N’s shoulder, a subtle but possessive gesture that sent a clear message to all who were watching: this was not just Y/N’s ascension to power; it was theirs.

The advisor, his expression betraying nothing, addressed the room once more. “And as tradition dictates, the queen’s chosen consort shall be named as reigning king, to rule beside her as her equal and protector.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Karina stepped forward to accept the crown of the reigning king. The whispers in the hall grew louder, a mix of surprise, disapproval, and grudging acceptance rippling through the gathered nobles. Karina’s rise had been swift and unexpected, but none could deny the bond between her and Y/N, or the power she now wielded at Y/N’s side.

The crown was placed upon Karina’s head, and she turned to face Y/N, her expression one of fierce, unyielding loyalty. Y/N met her gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on her, but there was no turning back now. This was the path they had chosen, for better or for worse.

With Karina by her side, Y/N felt a strange mix of fear and reassurance. She knew that Karina’s ambition had no bounds, that her love was as dangerous as it was deep. But she also knew that Karina would protect her, would do anything to keep her on the throne—even if it meant sacrificing everything and everyone else.

As they stood before the gathered court, the new rulers of the realm, Y/N felt Karina’s hand slip into hers, the touch warm and possessive. “This is our moment, my queen,” Karina whispered, her voice low and intense, meant only for Y/N. “No one can stand against us now.”

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding slightly, even as doubts gnawed at the edges of her mind. She was a queen now, and Karina was her king. They were bound together, for better or for worse, and the kingdom would have to follow where they led.

The court erupted in a final round of applause, louder this time, though still tinged with uncertainty. Y/N raised her head, looking out over the sea of faces, forcing herself to wear the mask of confidence and authority that was now expected of her.

But as the cheers filled the hall, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she had crossed a line she could never return from—that the price of power, of Karina’s love, was far higher than she had ever imagined.

And yet, with Karina by her side, her hand still gripping hers tightly, Y/N knew she had no choice but to continue down the path they had forged together. For better or for worse, they were now the rulers of this kingdom, and nothing would ever be the same again.

———-

The kingdom had been thrown into the chaos of war, the once peaceful lands now ravaged by the clashing forces of Y/N’s and Mark’s armies. The conflict had been inevitable, with tensions rising ever since Y/N had ascended the throne and Karina had claimed her place as reigning king. Mark, unable to accept Y/N’s swift rise to power and her sudden engagement to Karina, had rallied his forces, leading to a brutal confrontation that left the kingdom teetering on the edge of destruction.

The news of Karina’s injury reached Y/N like a bolt of lightning, striking her to her core. She had never imagined that the war would come so close to taking away the one person she had come to rely on so completely. As the battle raged on, Karina had been at the forefront, leading the charge with fierce determination, but the cost had been steep.

When Karina finally returned to the castle, bloodied and battered, Y/N’s heart clenched with fear and anger. She rushed to Karina’s side, her emotions a whirlwind as she scolded her for putting herself in such danger.

“What were you thinking, Karina?” Y/N’s voice trembled as she helped Karina into their chambers, her hands shaking as she began to treat the deep gashes and bruises that marred Karina’s body. “You could have been killed! I can’t lose you, too.”

Karina winced as Y/N’s fingers brushed over a particularly nasty wound on her side, but her gaze remained steady, locked onto Y/N’s. “I had to protect you, my queen. I promised I would always keep you safe.”

“But at what cost?” Y/N snapped, her frustration boiling over as she dabbed at the wound with a cloth. “You’re not invincible, Karina. I need you—alive.”

Karina’s lips quirked into a half-smile, despite the pain. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Y/N huffed, biting back a retort as she continued to clean and bandage Karina’s wounds. Her hands moved with practiced precision, but her mind was a storm of worry and fear. The thought of losing Karina, of being alone in this ruthless world, was too much to bear.

As Y/N worked, Karina’s gaze never left her. She could see the fear in Y/N’s eyes, the vulnerability that she rarely allowed herself to show. It tugged at something deep within Karina, a protective instinct that she couldn’t ignore.

“Y/N,” Karina said softly, her voice cutting through the tense silence. “Come here.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Karina’s. She hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, her breath hitching as Karina’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto her lap. The sudden closeness made Y/N’s heart race, her body pressing against Karina’s bare skin, the warmth of her lover’s body seeping into her own.

“I’ll never lose you,” Karina murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Not like you lost your father. I’ll protect you with everything I have, even if it costs me my life.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the sincerity in Karina’s voice, but before she could respond, she felt a sudden shift beneath her. Karina’s length hardened against her thigh, the pressure sending a jolt of heat through Y/N’s body.

Both of them moaned at the same time, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Y/N’s breath quickened, her body reacting instinctively to the sensation. Without thinking, she reached down, fumbling with the ties of her gown, her hands trembling with urgency.

Karina watched her, her eyes darkening with desire as Y/N stripped off her clothes, leaving herself bare to Karina’s gaze. Y/N’s skin flushed with a mix of embarrassment and need, but she couldn’t stop herself, the intense connection between them driving her actions.

As soon as Y/N was fully undressed, she positioned herself over Karina, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The air between them was thick with tension, an electric charge that had been simmering for far too long. Karina’s hands gripped Y/N’s hips eagerly, pulling her down onto her hardened, thick length. The moment their bodies connected, both of them cried out, the sudden pressure sending shockwaves of pleasure through them.

But Y/N’s emotions were far from just pleasure. Beneath the surface, a storm of anger and frustration raged, fueled by Karina’s reckless actions. Without any warning, Y/N began to move, riding Karina with a brutal, punishing rhythm. Each thrust was hard and purposeful, as if Y/N was trying to imprint her fury onto Karina’s very soul.

“You reckless, stubborn fool,” Y/N spat, her hand shooting out to grip Karina’s neck. Her fingers tightened around Karina’s throat just enough to make her gasp, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and arousal. “Do you have any idea how close you came to getting yourself killed?”

Karina’s response was a strangled moan, her body arching beneath Y/N’s relentless pace. She tried to speak, but Y/N wasn’t slowing down, each thrust deeper and more forceful than the last. “I-I’m sorry… I just… ahhh, Y/N…!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Y/N growled, leaning in closer, her breath hot against Karina’s ear as she ground down harder, her body clenching around Karina with every downward thrust. “You almost left me alone, Karina. You think you can just risk your life like that? You think I’d just let you go?”

Karina’s hands clutched desperately at Y/N’s hips, trying and failing to match the brutal pace. Her voice was a desperate, breathy whine as she clung to Y/N, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I-I’ll never do it again… please, Y/N… you’re so… so good… I’m yours, only yours…”

Y/N’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and possessive need. She shifted her angle, grinding down with even more force, and Karina’s loud cry filled the room. “You like how good I’m riding you?” Y/N hissed, her voice laced with dominance as she continued to move with relentless intensity. “You like feeling me take you like this?”

Karina’s response was an incoherent moan, her body trembling beneath Y/N’s as the pleasure mounted to an unbearable peak. She tried to throw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her, but Y/N’s hand shot up, tangling in her hair, yanking her head forward until their eyes locked.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” Y/N demanded, her voice rough, her gaze burning into Karina’s. “If you die, you never get this again. You’ll never feel me like this, never have me like this.”

Karina’s eyes widened, her breath hitching at the raw, possessive intensity in Y/N’s voice. The force of Y/N’s words, coupled with the unyielding rhythm of her movements, sent Karina spiraling into a state of desperate need. Her body tightened around Y/N’s thick, girthy length, the heat between them building to an unbearable peak.

“Y/N… I-I can’t… please…!” Karina’s voice was high-pitched, almost frantic, as she teetered on the edge. Her body was on fire, the pleasure blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy. “Please… please… please let me come in you… I need you…”

Y/N’s grip on Karina’s hair tightened, forcing her to maintain eye contact. “Promise me,” Y/N snarled, her hips slamming down with brutal force, each thrust sending shockwaves through Karina’s body. “Promise me you’ll never be so reckless again. You belong to me, Karina. No one else gets to have you.”

“I promise! I promise!” Karina’s voice was breathless, her words tumbling out in a desperate plea. “I’m yours, Y/N… only yours… I’ll never do it again… please…!”

Y/N’s eyes blazed as she leaned in even closer, her breath hot against Karina’s lips. “You promised me babies,” she hissed, her tone possessive and filled with raw emotion. “You can’t give them to me if you die, you dumbass. I’m your queen, Karina. You live for me, understand?”

Karina’s heart raced, her eyes wide with a mix of arousal and desperation. “I-I understand… Y/N, I’ll do anything… please… fill me up so good… I need you…”

With one final, punishing thrust, Y/N sent them both over the edge. Karina’s orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she cried out, her release crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. Her thick, girthy length throbbed inside Y/N, pumping so much that it spilled out, warm and slick, even as Y/N’s own climax ripped through her with such intensity that she almost couldn’t breathe, her body shaking as she milked every last drop of pleasure from their connection.

Even as they came down from their high, Y/N didn’t let go of Karina’s hair, her eyes still locked on hers, a silent reminder of the promise she had extracted. Y/N leaned back slightly, looking down at the mess between them, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “Oops,” she murmured, her tone teasing as she took her finger and scooped up some of the cum that had spilled out of her. “I guess you’ll have to fill me up again.”

Before Karina could respond, Y/N brought her finger to Karina’s lips, watching with satisfaction as Karina’s eyes fluttered shut, her tongue darting out to taste the mixture of their fluids. The sight only fueled the fire inside Karina, a growl rumbling in her chest as she grabbed Y/N and flipped her onto the bed.

Without wasting a second, Karina positioned herself over Y/N, her eyes dark with hunger and need. “You want me to fill you up again?” she asked, her voice low and filled with a dangerous edge. “Then you’re going to take every last drop.”

With that, Karina positioned herself over Y/N once again, her eyes burning with a fierce, possessive heat. She plunged back into Y/N with a renewed vigor, her thrusts hard and deep, each movement a testament to her unyielding desire. The room was filled with their passionate cries and the sounds of their bodies colliding, a testament to the intense, unbreakable bond that had been forged between them.

And with that, Karina thrust back into Y/N with renewed intensity, her pace rough and unyielding, determined to claim her all over again. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, moans and cries echoing as they both lost themselves in the raw, primal connection between them. Karina’s movements were driven by a wild need, her body demanding more, giving more, as she pushed them both to the brink again and again, determined to make Y/N hers completely, to leave no doubt who she belonged to.

Y/N’s moans were high and breathless, punctuated by gasps and whimpers as Karina’s powerful thrusts drove her to the edge once more. Each movement was a blend of fierce passion and raw, unrestrained energy. “Karina… yes… just like that,” Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and desperation. “You’re mine, remember? Don’t you dare hold back.”

Karina’s face was flushed, her eyes glazed with a primal hunger as she looked down at Y/N. “I’m yours,” she growled, her voice ragged. “I’m yours, Y/N. I’ll always be yours. I’ll give you everything, just… just keep taking it.”

Y/N’s fingers dug into Karina’s shoulders as she tried to steady herself, her body moving in sync with Karina’s relentless thrusts. “If you really mean that,” she panted, “then you’ll show me, won’t you? Fill me up completely. Show me how much you want me.”

Karina’s breath hitched as she accelerated her pace, the intensity of her movements making her entire body tremble. “I want you so much,” Karina moaned, her voice cracking with the effort. “I need you. I need to feel you, to make you mine. I want to hear you scream my name.”

Y/N’s body tensed with each powerful thrust, the pleasure coursing through her as Karina took her with a voracious hunger. “That’s it,” Y/N encouraged, her voice a mixture of command and supplication. “Don’t stop. Make me yours again and again. Let everyone know who I belong to.”

Karina’s pace became even more frenzied, her hands gripping Y/N’s hips with a force that bordered on desperate. “I’m going to make you come so hard,” Karina growled, her voice barely more than a whisper as she pressed her forehead against Y/N’s. “You’ll be filled with me, every inch. I’m going to make sure you’re completely mine.”

The heat between them was palpable, their bodies slick with sweat as Karina’s thrusts grew even more erratic, driven by an all-consuming need. Y/N’s cries grew louder, more urgent, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her.

“I’m so close,” Y/N gasped, her eyes locking onto Karina’s with a fierce intensity. “I need to come… I need you to make me come again. Don’t stop until you’ve filled me up.”

Karina’s eyes widened with a mixture of determination and lust, her entire being focused on bringing Y/N to the brink once more. “I won’t stop,” Karina promised, her voice raw with emotion. “I’ll give you everything, every last drop. I need to see you fall apart for me.”

With a final, forceful thrust, Karina’s climax hit her like a tidal wave. She gasped and cried out, her body convulsing as her release spilled over Y/N, warm and thick. The sensation was so intense that it spilled out of Y/N, dripping down between them, mixing with their sweat and desire.

Y/N’s body tensed and shuddered as she reached her peak, her cries merging with Karina’s as they both rode the waves of their mutual ecstasy. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, their bodies entangled in a primal dance of need and fulfillment.

—--------

The aftermath of the battle left the kingdom in shambles, but amid the chaos and bloodshed, Y/N and Karina emerged as the rulers of a fractured realm. The grandeur of their coronation was shadowed by the scars they bore from their tumultuous path to power. As they stood side by side in the grand hall, the atmosphere was a mixture of reluctant respect and underlying tension from the nobility.

Years had passed since that fateful day when Y/N had ascended the throne and Karina had become her consort. The kingdom had been rebuilt, and Y/N and Karina had forged a new legacy—one marked by both triumphs and sacrifices. Their love had weathered the storm of political intrigue and personal tragedy, evolving into a bond that was both powerful and tumultuous.

Now, in the serene setting of their private garden, Y/N and Karina stood with their two children. The royal family was a portrait of unity and strength. Their son, a lively boy with a crown of tousled hair, played at their feet, while their daughter, a serene and observant child, clung to Y/N's hand.

Y/N looked over at Karina, her gaze softening as she watched her partner interact with their children. The intense, often turbulent passion that had defined their relationship had transformed into a deep, abiding love, tempered by the challenges they had faced together. The shadows of their past were still present, but they were now overshadowed by the light of their family and their shared future.

As Y/N knelt beside their children, her heart swelled with pride and contentment. Karina joined her, wrapping an arm around Y/N's shoulders, pulling her close. The warmth of their embrace spoke volumes about the journey they had traveled together and the strength of their bond.

Their children, innocent and unaware of the complexities of their parents' rise to power, played happily in the garden, their laughter a symbol of hope and renewal. Y/N and Karina exchanged a look of quiet understanding, knowing that despite everything, they had built something beautiful and lasting.

“Look at them,” Karina said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “They’re everything we fought for.”

Y/N nodded, a smile touching her lips. “Yes, they are. And they’ll be our legacy, a reminder of everything we’ve overcome.”

Together, they watched their children play, their hands intertwined as they stood side by side. The garden was a place of peace and reflection, a haven where they could momentarily forget the struggles and focus on the life they had built together.

As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the garden, Y/N and Karina knew that their path had been fraught with trials, but it had led them to a place where they could finally find solace. Their love, once fierce and consuming, had matured into a steady, enduring force that would guide them through whatever lay ahead.

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