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greengoblinswifey · 3 days ago

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girl we need more fics about inho pls your writing is soooo good 😮‍💨

You Belong With Me— The Front Man/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary— The Front Man grows protective of you and removes you from the game, keeping you safe in his private quarters. A deep emotional connection forms between you and your bond deepens in more ways than one.

warnings— age gap(reader is 20, he’s in his 40s), fingering, oral(m!receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— thank you, hope you like this <3

In the dead of night, you woke to the rough grip of two guards hauling you from your bunk. You tried to scream, but a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. They pulled you down the cold hallways, the walls echoing with the sounds of their pants and your cries. You had no idea what was happening until they stopped before a door you hadn’t seen before. The guards pushed it open, and standing on the other side was Hwang In-ho, the Front Man, the one they had told you they were taking you to. He looked down at you in his mask, unreadable expression, his voice cold and commanding as he spoke.

“You voted out,” he said, his voice steady, “but the majority has decided to stay. You won’t be going back. You’re staying with me now.”

Confusion flooded your senses. You’d voted out to escape the nightmare, but now you were here, in front of him. The air shifted as he noticed your fear, before he spoke again, “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.”

The guards released their hold on you, but you didn’t move. Fear kept you rooted to the spot. “I don’t understand,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Why me?”

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then his tone shifted, becoming softer but more firm. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re too precious to be out there with them.”

You stayed quiet, still unsure of what was happening, but something about his words made your heart race—not from fear, but from the strange pull he had on you. He was being protective, almost possessive, and it made no sense. But you were too tired to fight it, too drained from everything you had already been through.

For the following days, you remained with him. In-ho wouldn’t let you return to the game. You slept in his room, far removed from the others, under his watchful eye. Every time you tried to ask why, he would simply tell you, “You’re safe here. No one will harm you.”

He never let you out of his sight for too long. During the days, he would be nearby, always watching, ensuring you were comfortable. His protectiveness only deepened as you became more and more accustomed to your new life under his care. You didn’t argue, after all, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, even if it unsettled you at the same time.

One evening, as you rested on the bed, In-ho approached you. His mask was off, and his sharp features were illuminated by the dim light. He crouched beside you, his dark eyes scanning your face making your breath hitch.

“You’ did well,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. His fingers reached up, gently brushing a few curls from your face, tucking them behind your ear. The simple gesture was so intimate. He was so close now, his warmth radiating off him as he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve kept you here because you belong with me, away from them.”

His fingers lingered on your hair, his touch soft but firm. You didn’t pull away. Somehow, his proximity, the way he seemed so protective of you, had a strange pull. “No one will ever touch you again,” he added, possessively. His eyes never left yours, and there was a coldness in his tone that let you know he meant every word.

A part of you wanted to resist, to ask more questions, to demand to be let go. But the way he spoke to you, the way he cared for you, made it hard to find the strength to push him away. He hadn’t hurt you, not like the others. Instead, he had kept you safe.

“I don’t want you to go back,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek, “You’re my sweet little angel. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up at him, not sure how to respond. But with him, the world felt a little less dangerous. The game, the chaos, seemed far away, as if they didn’t matter here, in his presence.

“You’re not going back,” he repeated, his voice firm, yet his gaze softened. “Not while I’m here. You belong with me.”

And in that moment, you understood that there was no escaping this, no going back. You were his now, and he wasn’t going to let you go. You stayed by his side, no longer a part of the game, but under his protection, whether you wanted it or not.

He leaned down, his presence overwhelming as his lips brushed against yours. It was soft at first, a gentle, almost hesitant kiss, like he was testing your response. You felt his body against you, his hands slowly moving to your back, pulling you closer. The touch felt unfamiliar yet comforting, and after everything that had happened, you melted into it, craving the sensation of being cared for, of being wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and you gasped, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin, before finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he nipped softly at your skin. His hand, still firmly on your back, slid lower, his fingers brushing against your waist before moving gently, teasingly lower and into your panties.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “So wet already, just for me.”

You felt his fingers rub gentle circles on your swollen clit, his touch light but electric, making your breath hitch. He paused, as if waiting for your response, his eyes searching yours for permission. “Just let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice tender yet firm. “It’s just us here. You can trust me.”

You felt a thick finger slip inside your pussy, the action making you press your lips together so you wouldn’t make a sound. He chuckled then moved back to your neck, licking and nipping as his fingers explored your pussy.

“Your pussy gets wet for strangers, doesn’t it?” he teased.

You whined and hid your face in his neck but he used his free hand to tilt your head to look up at him.

“I’m only teasing angel, and you’re my kind of woman either way,” he murmured.

His finger began thrusting and curling, finding the spongy spot inside you that had you writhing underneath him. He used a thumb to rub circles on your clit, the pleasure unlike any other you had felt. You grabbed his hand, as he increased the pace, feeling something build inside you. Were you really about to cum for him? He slipped another finger inside, curling and thrusting as the sound of your wet pussy filled your ears.

“Cum for me sweetheart, be my good girl,” he said.

You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but there was something in his gaze, something comforting in the way he pleasured you, that made it easy to let go and cum for him. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that moment, where you could be pleasure and safe all at once.

“F-feels so good,” you finally whispered, your orgasm taking ahold of you.

“I know baby, I know,” he retorted, “I can make you feel even better.”

In that moment you didn’t know what he meant. What you did know was that you wanted to make him feel good too. Return the favor in the only way you could.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you gently unbuttoned the top he had given you to put on that day, your heart racing. You paused for a moment, looking up at him, feeling a slight hesitation. His voice was calm. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes soft but intense.

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked with his, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Slowly, you let your movements flow as you continued to undress, your fingers trembling slightly, but you felt a rush of anticipation. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl as he took in every detail of your naked body.

You moved closer to him, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly began to unbutton his shirt. The action felt intimate, yet there was something thrilling about it. His breath hitched slightly as your hands moved lower, and you felt the heat of his body against yours as you slowly began to undress him.

“You're incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. As you knelt before him, your gaze remained locked with his, and you felt a surge of confidence. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You're so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

He took off his boxers, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. He was so big and thick, the biggest you’d ever seen. With shaky hands you took ahold of him, slowly stroking as his eyes fluttered shut. You spat on the tip, using your thumb to spread your saliva along with the pre cum that had oozed out.

“That’s it, you’re a fucking natural,” he praised.

With your eyes on his, you slowly wrapped your plump lips around him, taking him into your mouth. You slid your tongue along his girth, suctioning your lips to give him the utmost pleasure. He hit the back of your throat and you let him settle there for a second before sliding your lips back up to the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” he moaned.

You licked the tip, savoring the taste of the salty pre cum before slowly taking him half way. “All the way down,” he growled. You went lower, taking his cock into the back of your throat as his fingers tangled in your curls. You began bobbing your head, breathing through your nose as your eyes teared up. He stared down at you, his lips apart as his breathing grew heavier. You were a sight for sore eyes, curls framing your face, tears brimming your eyes, pre cum and spit dripping down your chin and your mouth full.

“You look so beautiful like this, such a good cocksucker,” he murmured.

At his praises you began bobbing your head faster, sliding your tongue all over his shaft. Each time you went down, the tip slammed against your tonsil and he let out breathy moans that made your pussy throb.

“Fuck angel, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he groaned.

Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging them then moving down to take each into your mouth before moving back up to his cock and sliding your lips across the shaft.

“Here it comes, take all my cum in your mouth like a good girl sweetheart,” he said.

You suckled on the tip, stroking the base as you felt the unmistakable feeling of his hot cum shooting in your mouth. You stroked him through it then took him down your throat, swallowing his cum.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he cooed.

He pulled you up, his hands immediately all over your naked body as he kissed you. He flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his dark eyes piercing yours. He leaned down once more, his lips pressed against yours then his tongue slipped inside your mouth. As his tongue sucked on yours, you felt his hard cock press against your pussy.

“Reach down and put my cock inside you,” he panted.

You did as you were told, your bottom lip going between your teeth at the pure intimacy of the moment. You took ahold of his shaft, dragging it up and down your folds as you moaned before pressing it inside your hole. Just the tip of his cock inside made you feel full and you gripped his bicep to ground yourself.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his cock deepened. “Tell me how good it feels,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You could feel your orgasm building inside you, and though every inch of your body was alive with pleasure, you focused on him.

“It feels so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He moaned softly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, guiding you with each thrust.

His lips trailed over your skin, kissing your neck, his teeth grazing gently as he picked up the pace. “You’re perfect,”’he murmured between kisses, his hands never leaving your body, his touch firm but gentle. “So responsive. I can't get enough of you.”

He kissed you deeply, his lips taking control, his tongue gently exploring as he moved above you. Each thrust brushed against your g spot and sent a shiver down your spine, you responded instinctively, your hands gripping his back as your body arched toward him. The rhythm of his movements was steady but increasingly intense, and every thrust felt more intimate than the last.

“Cum for me,” he urged, his voice husky. “I need you to cum on my cock.”

Your nails dug into his strong arms and he held you close, your pussy soaking his cock as your release washed over you. He kissed your forehead, guiding you through your high as you let out soft whimpers.

As he hovered above you, he whispered softly, “Get on your hands and knees.” His hands brushed your back as you obeyed, fingers lingering as he praised you for how perfect you were, how much he appreciated every moment with you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his tone dripping with admiration as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “I’ve never felt a pussy like this.”

His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the coils as he pulled you closer, not in a harsh way, but with a sense of possession, as if he were claiming you. Each time his cock disappeared inside your pussy, you couldn't help but moan softly at how deep he was at this angle, the sensation of his cock sending waves of pleasure through you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His hands roamed, squeezing your ass, the praise never stopping, and it only made you ache for more. “I can't get enough of you.”

The combination of his words and the feeling of him so close to you made your body tremble, your moan louder this time, unable to contain the pleasure that built up within you. “You feel incredible,” he murmured again, his touch firm, guiding your ass back to meet his thrusts. He watched as your ass bounced against him, you were so sexy. A masterpiece.

You could hear him breathe deeply as he continued, his admiration never wavering. “You’re everything I’ve wanted,” he whispered.

He rolled his hips to meet your ass then leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Cum with me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the moment and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You creamed all over his cock, feeling a wave of warmth and satisfaction wash over you. Right after, you felt his cum fill your pussy.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of adoration as he collapsed on the bed and pulled you close. “You’re perfect,” he said, his hands brushing your curls back from your face, caressing you softly. His touch was possessive, yet kind, as if he wanted to protect you from everything.

“You belong with me,” he whispered.

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peachylynnie · 3 days ago

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glasses

word count: 1.2k synopsis: in which you wear zayne's glasses. contains: zayne x mc!reader, slightly posessive zayne, whipped zayne, mentions of violence, slight angst, and fluff overall. a/n: i really like zayne's glasses (the frameless ones). do not copy or translate my work. zayne does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated :) lads masterlist: here

zayne doesn't expect you to be awake when he comes home. given how late he leaves his office, he's not surprised to find you fast asleep in your adorable pajamas with your mouth open and legs splayed by the time he arrives at your shared bedroom. though, there are times when he finds you awake, either treating your wounds from another day of hunting wanderers or sitting outside on the balcony to gaze at the stars. but, those times are rare. (not to say he doesn't appreciate them; he's in awe of how strong you are whenever you ramble about taking down a wanderer as he bandages you up and how the stars don't even compare to how stunning you look whenever he joins you at the balcony).

point is: zayne doesn't expect you to be up so late at night (morning at this point) when he walks in. so, he's surprised to find you awake... in his glasses.

the prodigious doctor freezes in place after closing the door. there you are, legs crossed on the couch with a book in your hand and your eyebrows furrowed as you flip a page, causing his glasses to tilt on the bridge of your nose. oh, god. he can feel his knees buckling. not from the eight-hour surgery he just finished, no. but from the gorgeous sight in front of him. his glasses looked so good on you.

"darling?" he calls breathlessly.

you yelp, causing the glasses to nearly fall until you swiftly catch and adjust them with your fingers. he thinks it's the most seductive thing you have ever done (besides the time you insisted on shaving his chin on a rocking chair). "zayne?!" you stand up immediately, abandoning the book on the couch and rushing to him to wrap him in a hug. "how long were you standing there for? i didn't notice you at all!"

"was the book that interesting?" the man questions as he returns the hug, careful not to apply too much pressure. he doesn't want to break his glasses after all. not because they're his, no, not at all. but because he wants to see you wear them more often.

you look up at him from his chest and nod. his heart soars at the sight. the glasses...they bring out the light in your eyes.

"oh? thanks, zayne." you giggle. ah, he said that out loud. his ears grow red as he averts his gaze to the side.

"ahem," he coughs. "why are you wearing my glasses, anyway? do they match your prescription?"

"yes, actually!" your beam. "i couldn't find my glasses earlier, so i decided to use yours." you lean playfully to the side to see his face. zayne can't help but smile upon meeting your eyes. they really did look good on you, and he couldn't be happier to hear that his prescription matches yours. "i hope you don't mind," you say sheepishly. "i was only going to use them for tonight. i'm sure my glasses are lying around here somewhere." at that, you twist left and right to scan the living room.

"no need," he says almost immediately. he really doesn't want your eyes to leave his right now, not with you wearing his glasses so mesmerizingly. you look at him with curiosity when his hands slide up your neck and stop at your face, gently cooling your cheeks.

"are you alright, zayne?"

he nods silently and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. "i'm alright, darling." caressing your cheek with his thumb, the man adds, "and i don't mind. not at all. wear them whenever you like. i have some spares back at the office."

"oh, okay." you're taken aback by how eager he sounds. it's almost as if he wants you to wear his glasses, and his glasses only.

except that's exactly what the man standing before you wants. to continue to wear his glasses whenever you please. the idea of you enjoying a book while donning his glasses fills him with an immaculate sense of pride. he takes it even further by imagining the faces of all the interns who dared to gawk at you with starry eyes whenever you visited him at his office. he's sure once they see you with his glasses, they'll get the message.

"but i still have to look for mine at some point," you yawn. he takes note of how his glasses slide down whenever you scrunch your nose. "they weren't exactly cheap, you know?"

"i'll help you look for them in the morning," he says as he guides you to the bedroom (lies, he's going to hide them). your sleepy eyes look even more adorable with his glasses on; oh, he swears he can feel himself melting (and that says a lot given his evol).

"thanks, zayne," you say sleepily as you settle under the covers. "you always take care of me, you know that?"

"i'm your primary care physician. it's my job to take care of you," he answers as he sheds his coat and hangs it in the closet.

"you're also my boyfriend, remember?" you grumble, shifting onto your side.

"no, i forgot," he replies monotonously.

you jerk your head back, shooting him a glare. him and his dry humor.

zayne remains unfazed as he joins you in bed. "you should remember this too," he murmurs your name. "you don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you." pulling the covers up to your chin, he adds, "i will always take care of you." you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "not because i am legally obligated to do so, but because i love you. please remember that."

you blink, taken aback by his words. it's not often you get to see zayne so honest and close to you like this. due to your busy schedules, tender moments like these are hard to come by. determined to make the most of this, you cup your lover's face and plant a kiss on his lips. indulging in the much-needed warmth your lips provide, zayne deepens the kiss, his hands finding your waist.

after pulling back for air, you throw him a cheeky smile. "thanks, zayne."

he looks at you unamused. "what did i just say?"

you laugh before shifting onto your back, ready to sleep. sparing him one last glance before you close your eyes, you say, "i love you, zayne."

"i love you too," he whispers as he watches you drift off peacefully. it doesn't take long for him to turn and reach for the pull chain on the lamp. except he notices something.

you forgot to take his glasses off.

chuckling to himself, zayne carefully removes them from your face. as much as he loves how they suit you perfectly, he wants you to be comfortable. after placing his glasses on the nightstand, he returns to your side and notices another thing: the small dents on your nose bridge left by the pads from his glasses.

unable to stop himself, your lover admires them by gently tracing his finger over them. it seems there are many ways to show that you are his and he is yours. he's delighted his glasses are one of the ways.

after finally pulling the lamp chain, zayne presses one final kiss to your forehead.

"goodnight, darling."

#i need a zayne in my life #and his glasses #his glasses are nice #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne fluff #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader

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angelseraphines · 3 days ago

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ೃ⁀➷ pretty when you cry ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? a part three, ultraviolence, and a part four, shades of cool.

˚ ༘♡ hwang in-ho, the man you once knew as young-il, the man who betrayed you in the most loathsome way imaginable, had taken control of your recovery. he rarely left your side in the early days, overseeing every detail with the precision of someone who understood pain all too well. his compound, sprawling, isolated, and fortified, became your prison. it was a place of unsettling contrasts, sterile medical equipment juxtaposed with lavish decor, soft furnishings that did nothing to dull the edges of the sharp reality you now inhabited.

˚ ༘♡ you were angry, your heart a storm of rage and bitterness, each glance at him igniting the fire anew. though, in the quiet moments, when he checked your bandages or sat silently by your side as you drifted in and out of restless sleep, you found yourself conflicted. his hands, steady and careful, worked with a tenderness that unsettled you more than the betrayal ever had. the small comforts he offered, adjusting your pillows, bringing you tea, gnawed at the walls of your resolve.

˚ ༘♡ days blurred into one another. your questions about jung-bae and gi-hun were met with deflection, his answers vague and evasive. each time you pressed, his expression darkened slightly, as though the weight of those unanswered truths bore down on him as well. “you’ll know when the time is right,” he would say, his voice serene, leaving you fuming with frustration and sorrow.

˚ ༘♡ as the weeks passed, your leg began to heal. the searing pain dulled into an ache, and eventually, the ache faded altogether. though your body recovered, your mind remained caged by the stark truth of your reality. in-ho allowed you freedom within the confines of the compound, but every step you took was shadowed by masked guards, their presence an ever-looming reminder that escape was futile.

˚ ༘♡ you tried anyway.

˚ ༘♡ the night was quiet, the air thick with tension as you crept through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every shadow a potential threat. you had almost made it to what you thought was the outer gate when strong hands grabbed you, pulling you back with a force that sent terror crashing over you. the guards didn’t speak, their blank masks only adding to your dread as they dragged you back to your room, their grip unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ when in-ho appeared later, his expression was unreadable. he didn’t yell or chastise you. instead, he sat across from you, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t name. “i can’t allow you to leave,” he said softly, his tone devoid of malice. it wasn’t a threat, but it felt worse. his disappointment lingered in the air, suffocating, and you hated the guilt that bloomed in your chest.

˚ ༘♡ time moved forward, and with it, your body healed. the ache in your knee, once sharp and consuming, faded into nothingness, replaced by the intensity of strength you hadn’t felt in weeks. you could walk without hesitation now, no longer second-guessing every step. yet the freedom of movement felt hollow within the compound’s imposing walls. they surrounded you, stark and vast, a constant reminder of your captivity.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the faint scar peeking out from beneath the fabric of your clothing. the skin there was pale and slightly raised, a delicate line etched by pain and betrayal. you traced it with a mix of resignation and vexation, trying to reconcile the life you had before with the one you were living now.

˚ ༘♡ the sound of the door opening pulled you from your thoughts. you glanced up to see in-ho stepping inside, his presence filling the room with an air of quiet authority. he no longer wore the faceless mask that had once concealed him, his features open and bare. though his expression was calm, the weight of unspoken words seemed to settle between you, causing the air to feel suffocating.

˚ ༘♡ “would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked. his voice was measured, each word chosen carefully. though his tone was steady, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, as if he was bracing himself for rejection. it wasn’t a demand, nor was it an expectation, it felt almost… tentative.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands resting in your lap. your anger hadn’t disappeared, it still lingered, simmering just beneath the surface, but it had softened with time, dulled by the care he had shown you. despite everything, despite the betrayal that still stung, he had been there, ensuring your recovery, tending to you with a patience you hadn’t expected.

˚ ༘♡ “i don’t think so,” you said at last, your tone gentle yet cautious. you weren’t trying to hurt him, though the words clearly did. you saw it in the way his face shifted, the faintest flicker of something vulnerable crossing his features before he composed himself once more.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t leave. instead, he lingered by the door, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “you need to eat,” he said quietly. his voice lacked its usual authority, replaced instead by something softer, something that bordered on worry.

˚ ༘♡ you turned your gaze toward the window, your focus slipping to the darkened landscape outside. the compound stretched endlessly into the night, its shadowy corners likely crawling with guards you couldn’t see but knew were there. “i’ll eat later,” you replied, the words barely above a murmur. they lacked bitterness, though the weight of unspoken emotion hung in the room.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was thick and suffocating. you expected him to retreat, to leave you to your solitude, but he didn’t move. his presence remained, steadfast and unwavering, as if he refused to let the distance between you grow any wider.

˚ ༘♡ and though you wouldn’t admit it, even to yourself, his refusal to leave made something in your chest ache. it wasn’t anger, or resentment, or even guilt, it was something far more complicated, something you weren’t ready to confront.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the floor of your room, your legs pulled close to your chest, trembling as grief consumed you. the weight of unanswered questions bore down on you, suffocating and relentless. your heart ached for the friends you’d lost in the chaos of the games, dae-ho, jun-hee, jung-bae, gi-hun, and the others whose faces haunted your dreams. they deserved more than silence. they deserved answers.

˚ ༘♡ tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you pressed your palms into your eyes, your breath hitching with every sob that wracked your chest. the quiet elegance of the room around you only deepened the pain, its pristine luxury a cruel reminder of the blood and suffering you’d endured to end up here. “please,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the plea. “tell me… tell me what happened to them.”

˚ ༘♡ in ho’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, as he crossed the room to where you sat. you didn’t meet his gaze, you couldn’t. instead, you gripped your knees tighter, shaking your head as the words spilled from your lips in a broken stream. “where are they? are they alive? do they even… do they even have a chance?”

˚ ༘♡ he crouched in front of you, his movements calm but hesitant, as though he feared his presence might shatter you further. his hands hovered near yours, unsure whether to reach out. “i can’t give you the answers you’re looking for,” he said quietly, his tone soft yet somehow unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you choked out, anger flaring through the grief as your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “why can’t you? they’re my friends, they…” your voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence dissolved into tears.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond, his silence infuriating and devastating all at once. the patience in his expression was unbearable, as though he thought his stillness could soothe the storm inside you.

˚ ༘♡ your cries grew louder, your sobs echoing in the quiet room as you pounded a fist weakly against his chest. “please,” you begged, the word almost unintelligible through your tears. “don’t do this to me. i need to know.”

˚ ༘♡ still, he said nothing. instead, his arms encircled you, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. his warmth was immediate, his presence solid and unyielding. he rested his chin lightly against your hair, his grip tightening as though he feared you might slip away entirely. “shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “i’m here.”

˚ ༘♡ you shoved him away with what strength you had, though it was feeble compared to his hold. “don’t,” you spat, your voice raw with anger and anguish. “don’t comfort me when you’re the reason they’re gone.”

˚ ༘♡ his hands settled firmly on your shoulders, his grip rigid yet careful, as though he feared hurting you but refused to let you slip away. the strength in his touch sent a wave of frustration through you, fueling a final attempt to twist out of his hold. his chest pressed against yours as he pulled you closer, his body a barrier against your escape.

˚ ༘♡ “let me go,” you demanded, your voice shaking with the effort to sound stronger than you felt. but the words wavered, your conviction cracking under the weight of exhaustion that had crept into your limbs.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” he replied, his tone low but resolute, the firmness in his voice more unnerving than anger would have been. “you need me,” he added, quieter now, his words tinged with a gentleness that made your heart clench. “even if you don’t want to admit it.”

˚ ༘♡ your struggles faltered, the tension in your body draining as the fight ebbed away. you sagged against him, your head dropping slightly, your breathing uneven and strained. his embrace shifted, becoming something softer, something that felt almost protective. his arms wrapped around you fully now, holding you close as though shielding you from a world you didn’t even recognize anymore.

˚ ༘♡ the warmth of his breath brushed against your temple, and you froze as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. the kiss wasn’t meant to persuade or plead; it was a silent confession, an unspoken attempt to reach past your anger.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, so quietly you might have thought you imagined it if his voice hadn’t carried the weight of those words so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ your entire body stiffened. the confession hit you harder than you could have anticipated, settling heavily in your chest. the sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, tugging at emotions you didn’t want to feel. your throat tightened painfully, but no words came. they wouldn’t. you couldn’t make yourself respond, couldn’t allow yourself to validate the truth in what he said.

˚ ༘♡ instead, silence fell between you, louder and more damning than anything you could have said aloud. his arms didn’t loosen their hold, his face remaining close to yours, his breath steady against your skin.

˚ ༘♡ then, as if sensing your hesitation wasn’t refusal, he leaned in. his lips met yours with a deliberate slowness, a patience that felt entirely at odds with the world he had dragged you into. the kiss was tender, yet there was an unmistakable urgency in the way he moved, as though he needed you to feel the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to push him away, wanted to scream that he had no right to this moment, no right to you. but your body betrayed you, your lips trembling as they parted against his. the flood of emotions, anger, despair, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing, surged through you all at once, making it impossible to pull away.

˚ ༘♡ when the kiss broke, your breath came in shallow bursts, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks as his gaze searched yours.

˚ ༘♡ “will you ever let me go?” you asked, the words spilling out before you had a chance to stop them. your voice was fragile, the question carrying all the weight of the fear and longing tangled inside you.

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, the sharpness of his features dimmed by the flicker of something raw in his eyes. his hands didn’t move, his hold on you steady but not forceful. “i can’t,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. his voice cracked slightly, betraying the struggle beneath his calm exterior. “not in my heart.”

˚ ༘♡ the pang in your chest deepened, and the next question came almost involuntarily, your voice trembling under the strain. “will you keep doing this? will you keep the games going?”

˚ ༘♡ his face darkened, but not in anger. it was a shadow of something more potent, regret, or perhaps inevitability. he lowered his head slightly, his forehead close to brushing yours, his words deliberate and gentle. “yes,” he said, the softness of his tone cutting deeper than any cruelty could have. “i have to. one day, you’ll understand why.”

˚ ༘♡ the finality in his voice was suffocating. you stared at him, your tears still falling as you searched his face for any trace of doubt, for even the smallest crack in his conviction. his gaze remained stable, his eyes holding nothing but certainty, an unshakable belief in a path you couldn’t follow.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was heavy, filled with the unsaid words that hung between you. and as his arms tightened around you again, pulling you close to his chest, you felt the hollowness of his words settle into your own heart. hwang in-ho was a man who loved you, but he was also a man you could never truly understand.

a/n: part five!!! let me know if you have any requests and your thoughts on the story so far!!🤍

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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 days ago

Text

A Package Deal - Part 4

In which the real world threatens to ruin your happiness.

Warnings: angsttttttttt :) fluff at the end tho!! Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 3.6k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted:

yourusername life lately ❤️ BFFSarah omg, someone who loves pizza just as much as Stelly Belly??? >>>yourusername they polished off a large pizza between the two of them. It was a sight to see. >>>land-ho WE WERE HUNGRY. >>>yourusername you bet my six year old she couldn't eat 4 pieces of pizza, sir. >>>land-ho AND SHE PUT DOWN FIVE! Proudest moment of my LIFE. >>>yourusername 🙄

land-ho (private) posted

land-ho party of three? smoooooth_operator it was good to see you two last night! >>>yourusername dinner was delicious, C!! tell R thank you for all the shopping reccos in Barcelona 🤭 >>>landonorris oh god, my wallet already hurts >>>yourusername well now i'm never going to beat the sugar baby allegations. >>>honeybadger y'all are a walking PR nightmare waiting to happen. kelly_pickme i must meet your two favorite girls soon! bring them to Monaco soon! >>>yourusername 😘 did L give M the lion plushie and princess dress for baby and P? can't wait to meet you all soon!! >>>kelly_pickme yes! P hasn't taken it off and the lion is a hit as well. >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

Miami May, 2025

"Okay, anything else you guys want to talk about before we start filming?" Victor, the team's head of communications, asks on Thursday afternoon.

Victor sits in one of the several conference rooms located in McLaren's hospitality suite surrounded by the rest of the communications team as well as Lando and Oscar. The weekend debrief is wrapping up as he asks one last question.

"Actually, kind of." Lando clears his throat, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

The entire team turns to him then and he feels his face go a bit red. He hadn't really planned on making a big deal of this in front of the team but after his meeting with Zak earlier, he thought he should at least let the comms team in on what he was going to do tonight.

"What's up?" Victor prompts, tucking his iPad under his arm.

"Well, it's more of a 'heads up' kind of thing but Zak thought I should let you guys know that I'm planning on going public with my girlfriend tonight."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lando sees Oscar smirk. He can almost hear the 'well it's about time' teasing he's about to get when they wrap up this meeting.

Victor blinks, casting a sideways glance at Melanie, Lando's main press officer for the weekend. He could tell Victor was reluctant to agree but in all honesty, this wasn't his call and Lando was ready to make that known. "What were you planning on doing?"

Melanie pulls out a notepad to take notes, just in case she's asked about the relationship this weekend.

You were also in Miami this weekend for your second race of the season and the subject had come up last night as you were cuddled up in bed after Lando had posted about you and Stella on his private account for the first time. You had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring the team or Lando any drama during the race weekend but he had been insistent. While you hadn't been together officially for very long, you spent nearly every spare moment together and Stella had become a huge part of Lando's life too. He was tired of being linked to endless Instagram models and having to hide you away from the public.

Lando shrugs. "Nothing big or anything, just a post of my feed with her, some kind of witty caption."

"She's the one who works in the accounting department?" Melanie asks.

Lando can't help but glare at the woman. She's in her mid-30s with mousey brown hair and wire rimmed glasses. Melanie was kind enough but sometimes Lando wondered if she had any of the media training that was forced on him and Oscar with the kinds of questions she asked him.

"No, she's on the product development team, and she's right over there." Lando tips his chin towards the large glass windows that looks out onto the rest of the hospitality suite where you sit at one of the tables typing away at your laptop.

"Isn't she a single mom?"

Again, Lando glares at Melanie as the rest of the team shifts uncomfortably in their seat. Sure, it was their job to handle any press inquiries that came into the office and sometimes there were personal questions that got asked, but that one was toeing the line of appropriate.

"I don't see why that makes any sort of difference." Oscar surprises everyone by speaking up, his tone a bit colder than usual. "I've worked with her a lot lately, she's a lovely person and wicked smart. Lando's a lucky guy."

"Thanks, mate." Lando murmurs before turning back to Victor. "HR is aware of our relationship and, not that it should matter," Lando looks pointedly at Melanie once again, and is pleased to see her look a bit sheepish as if she's just realized how inappropriate her questions had been. "But Zak is also aware that we're together and has given us his blessing too."

That had been an awkward conversation but Lando admired the McLaren CEO too much to leave him in the dark about something that involved his two employees. He'd scoured the McLaren employee handbook (thankfully there was nothing in it against fraternization of employees, so HR hadn't been a problem either) before approaching Zak first to tell him about the relationship. If there was anyone that Zak Brown loved more than Lando, it was you so of course he had been ecstatic at the news and had immediately given the relationship his full support.

Without waiting for further comment from anyone, Lando gets up and strides out the door, furious at how the ending of the meeting had gone. There were far more problematic WAGs in the paddock and you were a McLaren employee after all, shouldn't you expect the same support from the team as he did? He didn't really understand why it was such a big deal that you were a single mom or technically a coworker.

From your spot in the middle of the hospitality suite you can see when Lando walks out of the conference room, hyper aware of the way his shoulders are hitched up towards his ears, something that only happens when he's upset or stressed.

"Momma!" Your attention is drawn back to your phone where Stella sits on FaceTime before her bath for the evening. You'd been distracted by Lando's sudden shift in mood and had stopped listening to her mid-story.

"Sorry, baby. I'm listening. You and Cora had a good playdate today, yeah?"

Stella prattles on, seemingly satisfied with the half-attention you're now paying her again. But your focus is pulled elsewhere for a moment as you watch a girl you know is on the comms team follow Lando out of the conference room and into his drivers room. You couldn't remember her name but knew that she was working with Lando this weekend as his press officer so it didn't impress you as unusual that she was following him. Maybe something had been said in the meeting and she was going to try to calm him down.

"Momma, can I talk to Lando now?" Stella sighs and you grin. You were beginning to think that your daughter loved Lando a bit more than you the way she constantly asked about him and wanted to see him.

"I think he just walked into a meeting, S but how about we do this. Why don't you go take a bath and by the time you're done, Lando should be finished with his meeting and you can talk to him then."

Stella nods, seemingly happy about the arrangement. You say a quick goodbye before packing up your laptop to go check in on Lando. You were essentially done for the day so you had planned on hanging out with a few of the engineers during their meetings this afternoon before going to dinner with Lando later that night. And then you fully planned on spending the rest of the evening underneath your boyfriend.

You can see the door to Lando's driver's room ajar and you can hear raised voices floating out. Hesitating, you pause with your hand on the door handle. The conversation sounded heated and you didn't want to interrupt. You swear you didn't want to eavesdrop but Lando's shouting didn't leave you much choice.

"What the fuck do you mean the team doesn't want a 'Kelly Piquet 2.0 situation?"

Oh. Oh dear.

You had known Lando was going to tell the team of his plan to hard launch you on his socials tonight and by the sounds of it, it hadn't gone well.

"Lando," The woman, you think her name is Melanie or something, tries to sooth him. "All we're saying is maybe you should think of how this could impact her daughter. When Max and Kelly went public, it was a shit show."

"Yeah, because her father is a racist piece of shit." He spits.

"And she was accused of being a predator!" Melanie fires back. "All I'm saying is that maybe right now isn't the best time to launch a potentially controversial girlfriend."

Your blood goes cold. Controversial? There was nothing in your past that you were ashamed about. No racist relatives. No sex tape scandals or even potentially embarassing photos somewhere out on the internet. You had, all things considered, a pretty wholesome reputation. Everyone at McLaren loved you, as far as you were aware. With the apparent exception of Melanie.

"Controversial? Please, elaborate." Lando's voice goes deadly calm, as if he knows exactly what she's going to say but wants her to say it out loud.

"Lando." Melanie sighs and you take a step back, unsure if you want to hear what she has to say. "She's a young, single mom who got knocked up at nineteen years old." Melanie practically laughs, as if Lando is a complete idiot for not understanding. "There's no way she won't be seen as a gold digger or worse! She's going to be eaten alive on socials. I'm only looking out for her daughter's reputation. Don't be so naive, Norris."

Your fists clench up so tightly, the bite of your nails in your palms pulls you out of a near rage. It takes every ounce of control not to go straight into Lando's room and give that bitch a piece of your mind.

On the other side of the door, Lando swears he sees red and has to take a step away. "This is about your workload, isn't it? You don't want to deal with the awkward questions and the drama? Listen very closely to me, Melanie okay? Because I'm not going to repeat myself." The venom in Lando's voice startles you. "The three of us are a package deal now, do you understand? I am madly in love with that woman out there and her little girl? Her little girl is the center of my world too. I don't give a flying fuck if me being with her means more work for you, that's too fucking bad. If you can't handle it, I'm positive Zak will be happy to replace you. She's here to stay, you are replaceable. Understood?"

Hearing Lando say he loves you and Stella has your world tilting underneath your feet. He'd never said that to you before even though you'd been confident for a while now that he did feel that way. And that you felt the same way.

Melanie's reply is so soft, you don't hear it but moments later, the door flies open so fast you're forced to jump back bit. Melanie's flushed face looks horrified when she sees you standing in the hall. She can't hold eye contact with you for longer than a flicker of a moment before she's dashing down the hall.

Lando stands in the doorway looking horrified that you're standing there. "How much of that did you hear?"

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your anger at Melanie now replaced with sheer embarrassment. Even if she had been the one to voice it, you were certain Melanie wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing.

"Everything." You whisper as you look away, brushing at a tear that rolls hotly down your face.

"Goddamnit." Lando swears, shoving a hand through his curls. He hadn't even noticed his door was open after Melanie had followed after him. "Baby..." He reaches for you and you let him pull you to him, his steady warmth a comforting feeling as the panic rises in your chest.

"She's right, you know." You whisper into his chest so softly Lando nearly misses it.

Lando pulls back and the look of desperation on his face nearly breaks your heart. "What are you talking about?"

"The hate we're going to get. I'm going to get. She had a point, you have to admit. I'm a young, single mom dating a millionaire? People are going to think all I'm interested in is your money, just like they did with Kelly."

"Who cares what people think? Who cares what they say about us? The people in our lives that really matter know that's not why you're with me. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Until they start in on Stella. Have you seen some of the things they say about P?"

You were pretty confident you could handle any hate that you got but you knew that the moment you saw any hate towards your little girl, you'd be devastated. It had been something you'd been thinking about since Lando had brought up going public last night but you had been able to brush it aside. It hadn't seemed possible, the worry seeming far away and a little over dramatic but now? Now Melanie's words had anxiety twisting in your stomach.

"That's not going to happen." Lando pulls you deeper into his chest and nuzzles into your neck. He can practically feel you pulling away from him and terror shoots through him.

"You don't know that. Even if it doesn't, do you really want to spend the rest of this relationship constantly defending me? Defending us? That's no way to live, Lando. Melanie was right. I'm controversial and maybe we need to rethink this."

Lando's entire world stops spinning, his breath catching in his throat. "Wh...What? No, baby, no. Please don't do this. Don't pull away. Melanie is being hysterical. Nothing like that is going to happen."

If he had to get on his knees and beg you not to leave him, Lando would do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm not doing anything, I just need a minute to think okay?" You step out of his grasp, instantly missing his touch. You can't even look him in the eye, knowing that if you do you'll crumble. But you can't think of Lando or even yourself right now. "I have to consider what's best for Stella, okay?"

"Don't do this." Lando begs.

"I think I'm going to stay in my own room tonight." You whisper, voice straining with emotion as you barely contain the heartache in your tone.

"Is this the end?" Lando chokes out as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He's sure you'd step away if he tried to touch you right now and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of rejection from you. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him and the only thing that could right this was you.

Tears stream down your face as you struggle for an answer. "No." You tell him after a moment and the relief that floods Lando's face nearly breaks your heart. "I just need some space to think is all, I promise."

"Can we still have dinner tonight?"

"I think it'd be best if I just spend the evening alone." It hurts, saying those words because you rarely get this much alone time with Lando but you need space so badly your skin begins to itch. You're desperate to get some distance from the paddock and the team and even Lando himself, to right yourself back to the proper head space. You had to consider Stella above your own heart.

If it was possible to die from a broken heart, Lando knew he was about to find out. He lets you go though, watching miserably from the spot he's rooted to on his floor as you back away slowly, almost like you're retreating from a dangerous animal or something.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

All he can do is nod as he watches you walk out the door for what he hopes isn't the last time.

You're just finishing the last bits of your makeup when there's a knock on your door Friday morning. You were a bit surprised because you knew full well that Lando had a key but the fact that he was nervous to use it after what had happened yesterday tugs at something in your chest.

You had been in the shower when he texted you that morning and the string of texts nearly broke your heart. You hadn't wanted to put him through that kind of pain but you had needed to take a moment to think through what had happened with Melanie and the comms team yesterday.

Slipping the robe Lando had gotten you in Japan a few weeks ago, you pad towards the door to open it. You're stopped completely in your tracks when you swing it open and get a glimpse of Lando in the hallway. He looks absolutely ravaged, like he didn't sleep a single second the night before, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

"Lan..." You whisper, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You reach for him, utterly perplexed suddenly as to why you had felt you needed distance from him.

When he folds you into his arms, the damn finally breaks and you sob into him, the entire previous day's emotions coming to a head. The way you finally feel complete when he's got you in his arms is unlike anything you've ever felt and for a brief moment yesterday, you had forgotten that fact.

When he kisses you, cradling your head in his hands, everything else quiets. The doubts, the fear, the anxiety. It all fades into the background with his lips on yours and you sigh into his mouth. For the first time on 24 hours you feel relieved, like you can actually tackle this issue instead of feeling like you're going to drown in your own thoughts.

Lando tugs you over to the bed, pulling you into his lap as he sits against the headboard. You tuck into his body as close as you can, head folded into that space between his neck and shoulder, drinking in the smell of him: fresh from the shower and slightly spicy from his cologne.

For several minutes, you both just sit there. Lando struggles to contain the relief that is flooding his body. He'd been absolutely miserable last night, eventually working himself into a panic attack at the thought of losing you and Stella. There was such a gaping hole in his soul when he thought about the prospect of you walking away, it scared him to death. He had never planned on falling for you, had resisted it for a bit, trying to convince himself that it was too quick to be feeling the way he did. Last night though? Last night had showed him he was further gone than he had ever expected.

"Did you mean what you said to Melanie yesterday?" You mumble into his neck after a few moments.

"Every word." Lando says without a moment of hesitation. "But is there a specific part you want me to confirm?"

You chuckle, pulling away so you can look him in the face. "The part where you said we're a package deal? That you love love us both?"

Lando brings his hands up to face your frame and you can't help but lean into him. "Of course I meant it. I'd do anything for either of you. I thought we'd established that, baby."

You drop your gaze from his then, somewhat knocked off center by the intensity of his gaze. "I'm sorry I got spooked. I'm just so used to doing this all on my own, no one ever wants to stay."

"Do you remember what I told you the first night we spent together in Bahrain?"

You blink, a small smile playing on your lips for the first time that morning. "You said a lot that night."

Lando rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. "It was after you had fallen asleep and I got up to get a drink of water. When I came back to bed, you curled right into me and said you thought I'd left you. You asked me to never leave you and and I told you I'd never leave you. I didn't mean it for just that night though."

Your heart thunders in your chest. You didn't remember that at all but the fact that he had said those words to you all those months ago. He'd been as far gone for you back then as you had.

"I love you more than words can say." He whispers and all you can do is nod back, emotion choking out your ability to speak for a few moments.

Lando reaches under your chin after a beat, lifting your face so he can see you. "Nobody said this was going to be easy but if we do this together, it'll be okay. You've got to trust me on this, baby. The team is fully supportive, I swear to you. Zak, Andrea, Oscar. Everyone that matters is on our side. I know you're scared and you want to protect Stella but you can't give up on our happiness because of some stupid people on the internet that don't matter."

Pain shoots through you, bright and quick as a lightning bolt as realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Something becomes crystal clear in that moment and you find yourself nodding.

"You're right. I know you are. I want Stella to see me choose myself instead of sacrificing my happiness for some stupid what ifs." It isn't until Lando says what he does that you're able to finally put into words what you've slowly been coming to realize over the last few hours. You'd been scared to admit it, scared that choosing yourself in this meant you were putting Stella second but when Lando tells you that you can't give up your own happiness to protect her, everything clicks into place.

"I want her to know that she can do hard things and choose her own path and if i listen to Melanie all I show her is that the bullies win."

"That's my girl." Lando praises, pulling you into another soul shattering kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"Lan..." You pull away suddenly, eyes going wide. "The reason I was outside your driver's room yesterday was because Stella demanded to talk to you before bed and then..." You drop the sentence, the memory of yesterday slicing through you once again. "Do we have time to call her now? She was so mad at me last night when I said you were too busy to talk."

"Don't you ever tell my Stelly Belly I'm too busy to talk to her again." He teases before grabbing his phone. "Is she with Sarah today? They had a half day, didn't they. She was all about going to the cinema with Sarah today last time I talked to her."

The smile that settles on your face is nothing short of brilliant. For the first time in nearly 24 hours, you finally feel settled, like everything had righted itself after being so very briefly run off course. "Lets see if she can talk now before the get to the show."

landonorris posted

789,039 likes liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, BFFSarah, and others landonorris did someone say 'hard launch'? user029 oh she's PRETTY PRETTY yourusername <3 >>>user029 ugh, profile's private but SHE HAS A CHILD??? >>>user2992 if this means we're going to get dad lando content the same yaer we get dad max content, the internet may not survive BFFSarah can i like this more than once!?! <3 user0299 OMG WAIT I saw her in the background of tv shots this weekend except she was in a McLaren team kit. LANDO NOT DATING AN INFLUENCER??? >>>user3422 didn't know he had it in him >>>user000 god, i am such a sucker for a workplace romance trope

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teddybeartoji · 2 days ago

Text

sukuna teaching you how to cook…

pressed flush against you, his hand rests on top of yours as you grip the knife. it’s almost as if he’s the puppeteer and you his toy with the way he guides you – he moves, you move, you’re one and the same. his other hand is on you as well, fingers almost intertwined as he helps you hold the piece of meat steady on the cutting board. you can’t help but think how intimate it all feels, how close he is.

his voice is deeper than usual and it’s making it very hard for you to concentrate, especially when his lips keep brushing over the shell of your ear. you’re trying, you really are, to pay attention to what he’s saying because it’s not often you get to see this side of him – cooking is something he adores, and he’s taking this way more seriously than you could’ve ever imagined. but it’s not like you’re complaining… oh, no – you’re loving every second of this.

you’re sure he can feel that your breathing has picked up, and you’re sure he knows that you’re stumbling further and further away from being his perfect little pupil and falling head first into an entirely different role instead. your hold on the knife falters while his on your hand tightens. the meat before you bleeds and the clear juices coat the wooden board alongside with your fingers.

and his.

“focus, doll… “

his rasp catches you off-guard, his low voice pulling you from your thoughts. he hears you swallow the lump in your throat and you feel him smile against your ear.

“i’m very focused, ryo…”

“on the wrong things– yes.” you don’t have to see him to know that he’s wearing that annoyingly handsome smirk of his, ever so proud to have this kind of effect on his beloved.

you suck your teeth before poking your tongue against your inner cheek; your body grows hot at all the attention he’s giving you. sukuna presses forward an inch and your hips meet the edge of the kitchen counter – now completely sandwiched between him and the piece of furniture, your head clouds with thoughts so far from cooking that your knees nearly buckle from below you.

“c’mon now.” he raises your hand with the knife still in your palm and holds it above the piece of red meat. the blade glints under the dimmed down light, the silver winking at you before sinking down into the raw cutlet. back and forth, the movement of your hands is slow but steady – the knives in your house are never dull, so every pull and every push you make feel as if you’re gliding through butter.

but it’s not just the sharpened blade—

it’s the sheer power he holds.

sukuna’s hands are skilled, his fingers rough but surprisingly gentle at the very same time. he knows exactly how much force to use, how to cut through a piece of flesh with so much ease that the act makes you wonder about his past lives. a butcher, a killer? or perhaps a god instead?

to slash and to score. to gut and then devour.

caged in his arms, you feel like his next bite. his sharp teeth brush against your ear once more and you can’t help but tense up as a wave of excitement shoots through your body and a nervous chuckle tumbles from your lips.

he hums.

his fingers unwrap themselves from around your hand before reaching for the cut you just made. he picks it up and then shows it to you with pride.

“not too thick, not too thin.” your mouth waters, you barely register his words. “remember that.”

“mhmm.”

there isn’t an inch between your bodies and you can hardly breathe.

“what did i say?”

with him, you’ve learned about this other kind of excitement; he asks you a question and there’s this pressure, a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach – it teeters between a giddy, butterflies of love type of thing and pure feverish thrill.

walking in a circle, eyes on each other – a dance between the prey and the predator. the most he’d do is laugh, tease you a little. maybe even sink his teeth into your neck and inhale the whine you’d let out. that’s what he wants. a little sound. you’re in the palm of his hand and you both know it.

but if you’re good…

“not too thick and not too thin.”

it’s a kiss from a beast that you’ll get in return. a word of praise from a god, a tender look from a killer. a safe haven behind a butcher’s ribcage.

stained fingers find your cheek and you’re putty in his hands; it takes no effort at all to turn you to finally face him and it takes no time at all for him to press his lips against yours. but he doesn’t nip and he doesn’t bite, not this time.

a soft spot in a lover’s heart.

#found some weird music and immediately conjured this up the world is healing yayy #sukuna #wtf mickey can write #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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ireverie · 3 days ago

Text

sexcapade

pairing ↠ co-worker!sunghoon x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, professor!sunghoon x professor!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, almost getting caught

summary ↠ with things in the bedroom getting stale with your husband, you start searching for excitement and your co-worker, sunghoon, is more than willing to provide it for you. on campus, you barely acknowledge each other, but in the sheets, you can't stop calling out his name.

wc ↠ 2.2k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. part 1/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it started in the spring. like there was pollen in the air, too there was lust, gentle breezes seemingly sweeping you flush against sunghoon’s chest where you could never not inhale the manly scent of him; never not leave with it clinging to you.

you were very aware that it was wrong. matter of fact, every time you laid eyes on your husband’s face and looked into his, saw how they twinkled at the sight of you and how they were bewitched by the charm of your soul, guilt ruptured your heart with an angry, unmistakable pang of ire.

so you did not think with the throbbing inside your chest, but the throbbing between your thighs.

a woman needed excitement in her life, a kind of which sunghoon was more than glad to offer. sex quickly got boring in the bedroom after so many years of unlively routines and you taught molecular biology to a class of undergraduates that couldn’t wait to get the fuck on with their lives. to say nothing of the long nights spent sifting through overdue assignments. you were allowed to have fun sometimes. after all, you were only in your early thirties. you still considered yourself young.

like many other women, specifically younger ones that found him attractive for an older man, you noticed that sunghoon did not wear a ring on his finger. upon further discussion, you learned that though he was no longer married, he had a twenty-something-year-old son who took your class. apparently, his son spoke delightfully of you, which was flattering, but you’d always been more interested in what sunghoon thought.

and you quickly found out.

“had enough?” sunghoon asked, poking his head through the doorway.

not that you could see. there was a blindfold taut around your face, hindering your vision for the past forty-five minutes. to you, it felt like an eternity. the toy between your trembling thighs buzzed, inducing orgasm after orgasm, a number so great that it had tears slipping down your cheeks past the fabric of the blindfold.

speaking of orgasms, you couldn’t stop the cry that parted your lips as heat unfurled throughout your body for the umpteenth time, spreading from between your thighs to your head where there was nothing but empty thought and faintness.

“that was beautiful,” sunghoon remarked, only watching.

“please,” you croaked.

sunghoon played dumb with you. he had a penchant for it, drawing out your agony by pretending as if he were oblivious to your needs, when in reality he was the most attuned to them. “you want more?”

“no!” you exclaimed, desperate. you couldn’t even feel your legs if you tried, that was how long he had left you here with yourself - and this fucking toy. “please, no more. it’s too much, sunghoon.”

“but baby,” sunghoon started, donning his sweetest tone. “you wanted this. remember?”

that was true. you knew when this affair first started that sunghoon was available to open you up to new, exciting things, because your bedroom experiences with your husband could all be described the same way. though with sunghoon, there was room for variety.

it was just overwhelming sometimes. sunghoon could be so harsh under the guise of merely giving you what he wanted. you knew that it was what he wanted if anything, that you were just his lab rant to experiment on, but you never admit that you liked it that way. nor would you admit that you would’ve also liked to be a little more.

but sunghoon knew that. he never mentioned a word of it, because it didn’t need to be said. it went without saying that you were his to do whatever he pleased with.

“sunghoon…,” you trailed, your voice shaky.

sunghoon, ignoring you, asked, “how many times did you cum?”

you gulped. racking your brain for an answer, you ultimately came up empty. by the third one, time lost all meaning and so did thought. “i… i lost count.”

“then, you know what that means, right?”

you gasped when the toy was moved. not at the action itself, but because you didn’t realize he’d gotten so close. his footsteps were so quiet.

“but…,” you started.

“but nothing,” sunghoon said, snatching the blindfold off of your face. you blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness. the cuffs around your wrists were next. “you know the rules, don’t you?”

you whispered, “yes, sunghoon.”

“hands and knees.”

you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the said position, regardless of the exhaustion weighing down your body, because you knew what to expect if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. there were times were sunghoon was generous enough to let you cum, times where you didn’t deserve it, much like now. you wanted to get around punishment, but it would never happen if you didn’t satiate him.

the bed creaked when he raised himself atop of it from behind you, the sound of him fumbling with his belt making you wetter. once upon a time, you didn’t even think that that was possible, but you never stopped dripping when with sunghoon. somehow, he made even simple things like the anticipation arousing.

sunghoon dropped his shirt, followed by a toss of his pants. he had no need for them anymore. for the forty-five minutes that you’d been ruining his sheets, weakened by the overstimulation, sunghoon had been in his study trying to shake the thoughts of you while he attempted to grade papers. he was already hard from his imagination and the memories of stuffing you full of his cum, but seeing you in front of him, waiting for him, your pussy soaked for him, it did unfathomable things to his cock.

you released a shaky breath when you felt him lubricating himself with your arousal, slipping between your glistening folds, and writhed from the sensitivity. “sunghoon, it’s too much,” you whimpered.

sunghoon chuckled. “baby, i’m not even inside you yet.”

your face burned. you could feel yourself dripping and it was humiliating, because you only got like this for him and him only.

“so fucking wet,” sunghoon cursed, having fun teasing your folds. “just for me.”

you cried out when he suddenly slapped your cunt, mouth parted as you gasped out, “sunghoon...”

“fuck, you always get so wet for me. isn’t that right, baby?” sunghoon asked, enamored with you. it was magical how he could pretend as if you meant nothing to him at work and become so addicted to you when nobody was watching.

you bobbed your head. “yes, sunghoon. just for you.”

that must’ve did it for him, because the very next second, you felt sunghoon finally start to roll inside of your cunt, mumbling curses under his breath. you almost collapsed then, almost slumped and gave out just from the tip of his cock, but you resisted because you had something that you needed to prove.

sunghoon was slow, but his cock slipped right inside you with ease, it was almost pathetic. not to mention that he was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined taking, so much that you always found yourself gasping when you realized that he wasn’t completely buried inside of you yet. you couldn’t believe that he had so much to give.

“oh my god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back from how full you were. no man had ever satisfied you like this, and sunghoon was just getting started.

not only were you filled to the hilt with his hard cock, but also the ache for him to fuck you until your entire body went numb like he’d already done countless times. sunghoon gripped your hips, using them as an anchor. when you felt so good as you did, as tight as you were, it would be dangerous not to ground himself.

sunghoon grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling just tight enough to let you know the trip was there. you were basking in his warmth and being crushed underneath his weight while he balanced your hips in one hand and the grip on your hair in the other. he smacked your ass and hissed, “so fucking pretty.”

sometimes you wished that he was yours. you could imagine coming home with him day after day, singing to music in the car together while his company made minutes feel like hours. you didn’t mind that he had a son, either. you always wanted a child, though not one that would be the product of shitty sex and a broken marriage.

the liking you’d taken to sunghoon went beyond sex, though the endless orgasms and fulfillment he never neglected you of definitely encouraged those feelings. moments like now, when he was balls deep inside you, you were more than willing to risk it all for him. you would get a divorce. you would move in. anything he wanted, just as quick as he said the word.

i am out of my mind, came your thoughts, though your grip on them slackened the more sunghoon fucked you into oblivion.

“it’s so… deep,” you gasped, marveling.

sunghoon chuckled. though you had never said it outright, your constant fascination with how big his cock was or how deep he could fit inside you, stretching out your velvety tight walls, was more than enough of an indication that your husband was not exactly packing like he was. you made it a point to mention that sunghoon was huge.

“yeah?” sunghoon asked huskily, wanting to suck a bruise onto the side of your throat, but he willed himself not to.

“mm-hm,” you mumbled. “can feel you in… in my stomach.”

“where?” sunghoon kept one hand at your hip but dropped the one at your head, wrapping it around you, and reaching for your stomach. “here?”

you bobbed your head. he could feel it too, and it elicited a deep growl out of him, one that had you clamping involuntarily around his size.

sunghoon could fuck you for hours if you let him. the same way that he was the best you’d ever had, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. there were times throughout the day where his mind would only flicker with debilitating thoughts of you, memories of your face and how you tasted. at times, you made it difficult to move on.

“dad,” came a voice from down the hall, one both of you were very acquainted with.

“shit,” sunghoon hissed, irritated, and clamped his hand around your mouth. your cries and whimpers were muffled into his hard palm and your breath was cut off, because it was so difficult to breathe solely through your nose. “be a good girl and keep quiet.”

“dad,” sounded jake’s voice again, just outside the door.

your heart was racing. your eyes were wide, the fear and excitement of getting caught fighting for totality in your icy veins. his son was one of your students and students talked. if it got out that you were having an affair with sunghoon, this could destroy you, but there was something so arousing about the thrill.

“i’m in here. don’t open that door,” sunghoon said, breathless voice betraying what was happening behind that door.

his son was far from stupid, that you knew all too well, and retorted, “dad, are you getting laid? is it the hot nurse you were flirting with at the hospital? tell her i said ‘hi.’”

you frowned.

before sunghoon could even get a word out, his son added, “i’m leaving. you two have the house to yourselves again.”

“bye,” sunghoon huffed, dropping his palm from your face.

you inhaled sharply. you could finally breathe again.

sunghoon kissed the back of your neck, nibbling at your ear. “you did so good,” he whispered, voice gentle and sweet as ever. “if you beg good enough, i’ll change my mind and let you cum.”

you hopped at the opportunity like a ravenous pack of wolves starved through the winter, begging with the utmost desperation, “sunghoon, please. please let me cum. i’ll do anything, oh my fucking god, i need it. i need you.”

“you need me?”

so fucking bad. more than anything. “i need you,” you repeated, whinier. needier.

“cum around my dick,” sunghoon commanded, voice deep and throaty and just the way you liked it. you would steal a soul for him if that was what he wanted.

it wasn’t very long before one final cry of his name escaped you, pouring out of your lips like honey as you stuttered around his cock, heat spasming between your legs. tears trickled from your eyes, the stimulation from all of the orgasms you’d had in one night alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from convulsing. your muscles slackened and your limbs went limp to your sides.

sunghoon was directly behind you, spurred on by the sight and feeling of you coming undone around him, and you knew when his hold on your hips tightened and that lethal growl parted his mouth that he had met his climax, the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt being the unnecessary confirmation.

“good fucking girl,” sunghoon praised, still sweetly in your ear.

you sighed contentedly when he flipped you onto your back, sweeping you into his arms and kissing your lips as a treat. he wiped the tears out of your eyes, watching you still shudder.

“stay the night,” sunghoon said, looking into your hazy eyes.

you blinked, breathing heavily to catch your breath. “sunghoon, you know i can’t do that. my husband will...”

“i wasn’t asking.”

“well,” you replied, quietening. “i guess i can come up with something.”

sunghoon smiled triumphantly, smashing his lips against yours again. you sighed again, still content, though there was a thought lurking on your mind. i don’t know what i’m going to do.

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #enhypen x you #enha smut #enha x reader

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reiding-writing · 2 days ago

Note

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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5sospenguinqueen · 2 days ago

Text

Am I The Problem? | Franco Colapinto x Williams! Reader

Summary: After finding out you were going to be teammates, you and Franco have very different reactions. Franco is prepared to worship the track you race on whilst you do everything to ignore him. Until it becomes impossible to

Warnings: angst, swearing, the loss of a family member, a suggestive comment

Requested: Yes by anon (full request)

F1 Masterlist

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williamsracing just posted

liked by jensonbutton, jackdoohan and others

francolapinto dream reality

18,200 comments

williamsracing welcome to the team. we’re so excited to have you become part of the williams family

user1 so they’re replacing logan, an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon, with an f2 driver promoted to f1 too soon?

officialmpmotorsport we’re very proud of what you’ve achieved this season, and good luck in f1

user2 this doesn’t feel fair. he’s getting a seat (amazing) but will be paired with a driver who doesn’t want him there

dennis_hauger 👏🏻👏🏻

user3 has anyone checked on yn? she was always so happy to be racing alongside her childhood friend, and now they don’t even get to finish the season together

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln i knew i was going to have to say goodbye at some point but i never expected it to be so soon. i couldn't have asked for a better teammate but at least you’ll always be my friend. i’ll miss you so much, lo lo, but i will be there supporting you wherever you go next

23,096 comments

logansargeant 🤍

→ user4 signs of life!

→ user5 the fact that she is the only person he has responded to

user6 even when she’s devasted, she stays respectful. literally the perfect role model for girls in karting

user7 chat, do we think yn will stay with williams next year?

→ user8 i don’t think she even wants to stay with williams for the rest of the season

→ user9 she looks so miserable any time she’s with them/james vowels

user10 poor franco. she didn’t even congratulate him on any of the posts

→ user11 because she doesn’t have to

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yn_ln posted a new story

logansargeant replied wow so i really am easy to replace → yn_ln lo, no… → logansargeant how many more times are you going to fall for that? → yn_ln dickhead → logansargeant the internet was right. you are the personification of satan → yn_ln 🖕🏻🖕🏻

oscarpiastri replied haha the heart eyes are winning you over → yn_ln you can’t say anything, lando lover → oscarpiastri 🙄

user12 replied girl, did you cover up James’ face? 😂

francolapinto replied is that me??

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Thumb scrolling down your feed, you couldn't stop the wounded look twisting your face. Numerous tweets glanced back at you, informing you that your teammate’s fans had a very low opinion of you. Was it really a shock that you wouldn’t like journalists hounding your teammate? Had you truly been that mean to him that signs of basic human decency came as a surprise?

The door to your driver’s room was cracked open slightly, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the disconsolate body that shuffled past. A cap covered his usual mop of curls and his head hung low. All he wanted was to hide away in his driver’s room. Away from the hustle and bustle of the garage. All alone.

“Franco.”

A soft voice broke him from his sorrow. He’d never heard it say his name before, and he’d certainly never heard that gentle tone directed at him. His head snapped up in disbelief. Spinning around, he moved too fast and stumbled slightly. A pink flush decorated his cheeks, realising he’d just embarrassed himself in front of the woman finally talking to him. Your head poked out of the gap between your door and the wall. Almost hesitant to bridge the space between the two of you. You weren’t even fully aware of when you had moved, or decided to talk to him. But here you were, staring at his brown eyes, widened with scepticism.

Committing to your actions, you pushed yourself into the hallway. Unused to such close proximity to you, Franco took two shaky steps back. He could almost feel the wall behind him.

“I heard about your grandfather. I just wanted to offer my condolences.” Your teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “The media were out of line this morning.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Uncomfortable silence stretched between the pair of you. A need to fill it swelled within you.

“Nobody would blame you if you needed the day off. It’s not like we’re going to win any points in the Sprint.”

“I bet you’d like that. A race without me,” his tone was sharp, edged with grief.

It was a stark contrast to the light, playful timbre you’d become accustomed to hearing around the garage. Hurt briefly flickered across your face, causing him to almost regret his words. But he’d had enough.

He was tired. He was hurt, and he was not in the mood to be treated like he wasn’t there. Every day he hoped that you would finally speak to him. That you would smile at him, or share the glowing personality you had around the rest of the Grid. When he was still in F2, he’d been lucky enough to spend a day or two with you, and you’d been so warm and inviting. But, the person he was introduced to when he replaced Logan Sargeant hadn’t shown any sign of the person from before.

“Wait, what? No. Franco, I just… Look, I found out from Twitter and-”

“It’s not like you give me the chance to tell you things in person.”

Rubbing your hand over your face, you pondered whether you were doing more damage than good. All you wanted was to make amends, and not treat him like shit on a shitty day. Realising you couldn't make things worse, you decided to own up to your less-than-stellar behaviour.

“Franco, I just wanted to say… I don’t really know what to say. Other than that, I am so incredibly sorry for the way that I’ve acted these past couple of weeks. Believe me, I’m not proud of my actions, and it’s been made very clear to me that I could be ruining your dream.”

Your feet very subtly shifted closer to him, and his body was acutely aware of the smaller window of space between the two of you. The hairs on the back of his neck raised when the scent of your perfume invaded his nose. He loved that smell.

“I’ve been so terrible to you. The internet knows that I’ve been terrible to you. And what makes it all that much worse, is that it doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”

Franco watched you inhale deeply before barrelling forward with your heartfelt apology. Your nose had pinkened from the exertion of your speech. Franco decided it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“The truth is, I was angry. I was angry at the team, and the management, and the way they treated Logan was horrendous. But I didn’t realise that I was then doing the same thing to you, and I’m really sorry. I’m aware that none of this justifies my behaviour or makes it right but I just need you to know how much I regret what I’ve done. You’re so talented, Franco. If you had joined the team at any other time, I would’ve been flattered that you were so excited to be my teammate. I still am and-”

“Querida, breathe.” Franco’s lips curled in the corner. A small smile but the first time he had done so since yesterday. “I get it. You’re sorry. You were still mean though.”

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate term he’d used. After years of working with Spanish drivers, you’d picked up a few words here and there. Unfortunately, his following words ruined any hope you’d felt.

Scuffing your shoe against the floor, you avoided looking at him. “I know. I know. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

Franco reached out, taking your hand into his. His palm was warm and heated against your cold, almost clammy one. He was endeared by how nervous you seemed to be. At his touch, your head finally lifted to look at him. You were taken aback when your eyes met his, realising he was already staring at you.

“You could always give me your seat.” He let out a booming laugh at the look of shock on your face.

“Oh, I get it, you’re winding me up.” You pushed him away from you but your combined hands just ended up pulling you into him.”

“I wasn’t lying in those interviews. You really are one of my idols. It’s going to take a bit more than a tantrum for me to be mad at you. However, if you really feel you need to make it up to me, I’m not going to object.”

A body turned the corner, causing you to leap away from the Argentinian. His eyes twinkled as he did his best to keep his face neutral. You scrambled to compose yourself when John, your physiotherapist, glanced between the two of you. He raised his brows before walking past you and into your driver’s room.

“You have 30 seconds, Yn, to finish your conversation and get your ass in here.” He closed the door behind him, allowing you some privacy.

Franco turned to walk away, knowing you liked to run on a tight schedule, and not wanting to infringe on that when you seemed to be making a shaky form of peace.

“Dinner!” You blurted out, voice bouncing off the white plastic walls.

Staring at his muscular back, you watched his shoulders shake with silent laughter before he turned back to look at you.

“What about it?”

“Do you eat it?” How were you making this worse!?

“Yes, every day.”

He wasn’t making this easy on you.

“Maybe, if you’re not busy this evening, I could buy you dinner when we get out of here.”

“It would have to be early. I don’t know if you know this but I have a very busy day tomorrow.”

“I think I prefer not talking to you.”

“I’d love to have dinner with you, Cariño,” Franco smiled, “so long as you don’t spend the entire meal sullenly glaring at me. It seems to be a habit with you.”

An irritated shout of your name sounded from inside your room, reminding you that you were well past your allotted thirty seconds.

Not wanting Franco to have the last word, you looked at Franco before you entered your room. “I’m not sorry that I snuck an LS2 cap into your pile of hats to sign.”

His face turns from pure adoration to unadulterated offence. “That was you?!”

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by jv.f1, lewishamilton and others

its_yn my boy 💕

23,431 comments

williamsracing took team bonding to a new level

→ francolapinto i aim to please

user13 i knew that episode of team torque was carrying a different kind of tension

→ user14 no because he was so giggly and she was giving him full on banter

→ user15 let’s not ignore how she kept blushing when she caught him looking at her

user16 she fell victim to the heart eyes

→ yn_ln how could i not? have you seen how intense they are?

user17 oh no because now how do we tell who the biggest simp is

francolapinto my lips are still waiting for that kiss

→ yn_ln come here then

→ francolapinto 🏃🏽🏃🏽💋

→ user18 oh no. now we have to deal with this instead

logansargeant excuse me but where is his shirt in that last picture

→ oscarpiastri completely scandalous behaviour. reported

→ yn_ln piss off the pair of you

→ logansargeant @/oscarpiastri pay up. she did my thing first

→ oscarpiastri technically she did my thing first

→ francolapinto she did both in the same day

→ yn_ln franco!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

requests open. they may just take a while

coming soon; max taste part 3 and toto thirst

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @iloveyou3000morgan @justaf1girl

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sinstear · 2 days ago

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if there was one thing that kept her at bay from anything, it would be her arm. she loved and hated that part about herself. loved that it could protect her when needed, but hated that it could hurt someone she loved. sevika wasn’t afraid to use something so powerful to keep away evil, but she would never forgive herself if she accidentally hurt the one she swore to protect. even just holding their face in her hand, sent shivers down her spine and worry through her mind and body.

you never minded though. in fact, there were times when you’d be sitting with her or near her, that your eyes would travel away from her current card game, down her metal arm, more times than none, and just stare at it. it was beautifully fascinating to you. with or without her knowledge of you just gawking at her.

sevika did notice one night though, out of the blue, to your surprise, when you were comfortably sitting beside her— drinking from her whiskey glass and watching how she flawlessly yet swiftly dealt her cards.

it started with her body tensing beside yours, calmy, when you lightly traced patterns on the cool metal, not wanting to push her into anything, just being gentle and cautious with your approach. then it was the way she looked at you from the corner of her eye, seeing you sitting there, looking down at her arm— but you didn’t look scared or worried. not like most people did. you looked interested.

“do you think it’s gonna bite you or something if you state at it any longer?” her voice rang out, raspy and gruff. the cigar hanging loosely between her lips made her look ten times hotter.

“that a challenge?”

“maybe, maybe not, who knows with you.”

for the remainder of her games— most of the time she could sit there all day but if she has company, aka you, then she takes time to spend with you before she’s got her usual shit to do, and finally stubbed out her cigar and put all of her attention on you.

“you’re quiet,” she pointed out, sliding the coins off the table and pushing them into her pocket. “which is unusual, you’re never quiet.”

“gee, thanks,” you glared at her, yet the way your lips quirked up into a smile, made it aware you weren’t really mad. “just thinking.”

“well don’t be too excited to share, what’s wrong?”

her eyes followed your gaze, and that’s when she quickly noticed you weren’t looking at her anymore, more or so looking at her arm again. “can i hold it?”

your question was an innocent one, cautious even, but to her, it meant everything. you could tell by the way her eyes shifted away from you nervously, looking at anything but you. “i don’t think that’s a good idea,” she laughed, trying to play it off. “probably shouldn’t.”

“shouldn’t or don’t want me to?”

“is there a difference?”

she’s looking at you again, too busy focused on what you’re saying to notice the small shift of your hand reaching for her metal one. “who knows with you,” you murmured with a playful smile.

it’s only when she feels you interlock your fingers with hers that she tries to pull away and save you the trouble but you’re faster. just a little, and pressing her hand to your cheek.

“you won’t hurt me.” you reassured. as if you were answering a question her eyes were silently asking, something she couldn’t find herself saying out loud. sevika’s lips part with a gentle sigh when your free hand reaches up and cups her metal hand against your cheek a little firmer, and she clenches her jaw tightly once you’re smiling. “i promise, you won’t hurt me, you can’t.”

“how do you know i won’t?” she asked, insecurity laced with worry in her voice.

“because if you wanted to you would have done it when we first met.” you stated, eyebrow raising just slightly when sevika moves her fingers across the apples of your cheek slowly. the coldness of the metal tingling your skin as she moved. “but you haven’t, so.”

“maybe you just haven’t pissed me off enough yet.” sevika grins, and it’s almost primal in the way she looks at you.

“yet,” you clicked your tongue with a light chuckle. “there’s still time then.”

your eyes lock with hers as she presses her thumb against your lips, almost like she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, while you mischievously winked. “maybe just a little time,” she murmured and pushed harder.

the cold metal of her fingers brushed against the muscle of your tongue before you knew it and sevika didn’t know whether to moan or growl at the sight of you grinning smugly around her fingers. it wasn’t something she was used to. she’s used to people seeing it, turning the other way and getting away from her.

but here you are, greedily sucking her fingers and having no issues or worries. not caring in the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” she admitted, in awe of you and watched you closely. “and i think it’s worrying that i’m perfectly okay with that.”

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika drabble #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #sevika smut #sevika angst #sevika fluff

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davinawritings · 2 days ago

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Bewitched Dildo (Patreon Exclusive)

Pairing: Monster Best Friend X Human Female

Summary: Thunvak decides to gift his human best friend a monster dildo, based on his own cock, as a joke after you tell him to ‘go fuck himself’ one too many times. What happens when he is walking home and he realizes that the witch that made the dildo enchanted it so he can feel everything you do with the dildo?

Warnings: Sex Toys, Oral (On A Sex Toy), Ruined Orgasm, Size Difference, Magic Sex Toy

Thunvak was almost halfway home, just about to pass the witch’s cottage, when he felt hands on his cock. He stops immediately, looking down at his groin. There’s no one near him and certainly no one touching his cock, but he can feel the hands slowly shifting up and down his shaft.

He dashes for the nearby alleyway, trying to keep his cock under control, but the sensations don’t stop. His cock is fully hard and straining. The hands glide up and down, lightly squeezing his base and the sensitive tip. He bites into his lower lip with his sharp teeth, trying to hold back the moan. He needs to get to the witch. She must have done something with his cock when getting his measurements yesterday.

He quickly runs for the witch’s store, seeing her sitting at the register counter. He makes his way there and nearly doubles over as he feels a warm tongue on the underside of his shaft.

“Wh- What the fuck did yo-you do. Why can I feel han- FUCK- hands on my cock” he asks, trying to contain his groans. He feels like he needs to thrust his hips and rut into a hot wet cunt...

Full Version available on my Patreon!

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bluem1lls · 2 days ago

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✧₊⁺ forget about everything for a while

se-mi x fem! reader

✦ synopsis: you find your ex in the place you least expect it, and then again in the bathroom. she wants to say sorry but she doesn't know how..so maybe eating you out helps?

tw: minors dni, smut w a little plot, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), sub!reader, dom!se-mi, degradation (a little?), a bit of choking

authors note: hi! this is my first time writing (and in english) so im trying my best! tysm for reading and i hope u like it!

of course she's here.

you would've thought that after years of trying to get over her, the next time you'd see her, it would be at the coffee shop, where both used to go frequently. maybe even at the gas station, where she bought cigarettes and (per your request) a slushie.

you never thought you'd find your ex at the games where everyone was getting killed.

but of course you did.

so when you saw her standing there, wide eyed, being left alone to basically die as her entire group left her, the only conscious thing you could do was run to her and grab her hand.

se-mi stares at you, taking a double look to see if she was mistaken but nop, that's just her luck. it was you.

she would recognize that hair everywhere.

"what the fuck-" se-mi said, like she'd seen a ghost.

"no time to talk, maybe later" you said, dragging her into one of the rooms and closing the door behind.

she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest, she wanted to say a lot and at the same time, she had no words.

"why are you here?" she asked. her eyes searched for yours.

"my dad, he's.. extremely i'll and i couldn't let my mom carry with all that" you spoke, trying to regain your breath from the adrenaline of minutes ago and ignoring her pleading stare.

se-mi stares at the floor, trying to find the right words to say. what could she say to make it better.. after all these years?

"i didn't know. he's a really good man... i'm sorry"

"yeah." you reply, bitter "how could you know when you've been declining my calls and ignoring me?" you roll your eyes as you leaned against the door.

"i can't do this here, i really can't" se-mi said, putting her hands over her face trying to supress the wave of sadness that washed over her everytime she thought about you.

you bite your lip with rage. she was still avoiding you, after all this time.

"yeah no worries. i wasn't planning on staying here talking to my ex either" you mumbled.

she glanced over you trying to keep her cool facade as they open the doors

hell. you couldn't wait till this was done.

as you stirred in bed once. two. three times without being able to sleep, you decided that maybe the best would be to splash some water on your face, at least to be somewhat alert.

knocking on the door asking for the bathroom, the guards weirdly enough allow you without a lot of resistanse. maybe they're in a good mood.

you open the bathroom door and stand in front of the mirror, taking some water in between your hands to splash on your face.

you let out a sight when se-mi steps out of one of the stalls, closing the door behind her.

she looks a bit surprised when she sees you standing there. she stays in silence as both lock eyes from the mirror, her gaze softening as she roamed all over your face.

after a few seconds, she spoke in a soft and quiet voice.

"can't sleep huh?"

you nodded, turning around to look at her.

"it's been hard here. i just don't know when it's gonna be the last game" you spoke. she nodded in agreement.

there's an expression that you can't read on her face. it feels like guilty, pity and sadness all at once. you can see a hint of concern in her eyes.

"i really am sorry, you know...for not calling." she says.

you nod, getting closer to her, taking her scent. almost forgot the way she smells.

she looks at you with a frown on her face. deep down, you know she's sorry.

"i tried so hard to let you go..." you whisper, looking into her eyes.

"i tried too." she says, leaning an inch closer. "it never worked"

her eyes slowly reading all your features, as she took a deep breath and slowly placed a hand on your cheek, gentle. leaning into her hand, you sure missed her touch.

she bit her lower lip and gently cupped your face in between her hands.

"it's up to you se-mi. i've already said everything you needed to know. you were the one who was never sure" you whispered, feeling her breath on your face as the distance kept closing.

before you could even register what she was doing, you hear her mumbling a soft "fuck it" before she closed the distance and pressed her lips against yours.

the moment your lips touched, it felt like something snapped inside of both. one of her hands slid down to grab your thighs, encouring you to wrap your legs around her waist. so you did.

she pressed your body against the wall from behind while bitting rough on your lower lip. the kiss going from slow and loving to a rough, deeper one. both tongues fighting for dominance, you let her enter in your mouth as one of her hands slides from your thighs to your neck, softly squeezing for a few seconds, making you break the kiss to whimper for air.

her eyes scanned your whole face, eyes and pouty lips, basically begging her to fuck you. she let out a low groan as she kissed you again and again, going harder each time. her mind filled with nothing but the taste of your lips and the feeling of your chest pressed against her. little moans escaping from your lips, making her wanna ruin you right then and there.

"i missed this so much" you mumble in between kisses. the words sending a small pang to her chest as she pulled away from the kiss to lean her forehead against yours. her voice slightly shaking from lust, replies.

"i missed this too"

you pulled her by the neck, enough for her to kiss you again. you could feel yourself throbbing only from the kisses. grabbing her hand that sat on your waist, you lowered it down to where you needed her the most.

"i cant wait any longer.. please" you begged her to ruin you.

she looked at you with lustful eyes. "if it was any other moment, i'd make you beg, but since i dont think we have that much time.." she said, falling on her knees.

you pulled the pants and panties all in one go as she helped to get rid of them and pushed you softly against the wall.

she placed one of your legs on her shoulder and started to kiss your inner thighs, making you let go small whimpers. se-mi could feel herself growing wetter just by your scent, it was driving her crazy.

you placed a hand on her hair, softly pulling, and quickly her kisses escalated from inner thighs to your puffy clit, as her lips wrapped around it, you couldn't help but moan.

"be quiet" she hissed. "or you want everyone to know what a slut you are? maybe next time i'll fuck you in the common room" she smirked as you replied with a desesperate moan and a nod. "of course you'd like that. want everyone to know i'm the only one who fucks you stupid, princess?

as she finished her sentence, she placed her tongue on your clit. a cold feeling left you whimpering.

oh.

is that-

thats a tongue piercing.

of course she got a tongue piercing.

you covered your mouth with one hand to quiet your moans as the other one pulled her hair.

as two fingers entered your needy cunt, you bit your lip to quiet a loud moan. she kept working her tongue on your clit while roughly doing and 'in and out' motion with her fingers that was quickly dragging you to the edge. her eyes became almost black with lust as she roamed your fucked out face, your eyes rolled back from pleasure.

"i forgot how good you are at this oh my god-" you kept moaning and whimering as her fingers became rougher and quicker inside and her tongue picked a more rapid pace "no one will ever make me cum like you do se-mi"

her mind clouded with lust as she heard your words. she added another finger and could feel your cunt clenched around her.

"gonna cum baby? you feel so thight around my fingers." she said, her words driving you closer and closer to your release. "poor baby, she was just begging to be fucked like the slut she is, i bet no one ever made you this wet" she cooed while teasing. se-mi chuckles at the way you moan senseless in agreement.

"i need you to use your words, can you do that baby?" she says, her tongue pace fastening making you clench even more. "or maybe i should stop and let you talk"

"n-no please- please. im so close, s- so close please" i begged in between whimpers.

she grunted, fucking you harder. "cum for me princess, cum in my mouth. you're such a good slut" she said while wrapping her lips and sucking around my clit.

the motion of her lips and her fingers curling against your spongy walls at the same time, hitting your g spot, was enough to have your cunt pulsing and eyes rolling back. you felt the pressure snap and a warmth spreading on your lower tummy, you arched your back.

she keeps slurping everything until youre a whiny and trembling mess.

she decreases her pace, slowly removing her fingers and standing up, making you lick her fingers clean, staring into her eyes.

she helps you get dressed again, and it feels like how it used to all over again, the soft aftercare.

after cleaning you, she softly kisses your forehead and pecks your lips, she was apart from you once, and she's never gonna do it again.

"i love you. i'm so sorry for everything" she says, still trying to catch her breath.

you nod, tired, and give her a fucked out smile as she chuckles.

"i still love you too. so this was a 'im sorry for breaking your heart, i'll fix it by eating you out' kind of apology?" you say, trying to stop your legs from shaking.

you let yourself into her arms as she hugs you tight and fixes your hair gently.

"mhm, but i'll have to keep doing it, just so i can make sure you forgive me"

"please do..."

#lesbian #wlw #se-mi #player 380 #player 380 x reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game smut #se-mi x reader smut #se mi x reader #se-mi x reader #se mi #se mi squid game #se-mi squid game

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blondieeu · 1 day ago

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morning rituals. bakugou k.

when you got pregnant, bakugou started to make it more of a habit to tell you goodbye properly before he leaves the house.

Before, after he was all ready — belt buckled, bag packed, he’d only mumble a quick “later”, and that was only if he knew you were awake — but now, before he even seriously leaves the house for good he’s kissing you in between his morning routine, rubbing and kissing at your growing baby.

you lay on your shared bed, cuddling with some big body pillow with your belly laid on it, watching your man get ready in the early hours of the morning. He shouldn’t be working, but he insists to work until the day of his mandatory paternity leave.

“Why don’t you just stay home? Y’already got the biggest job of your life coming up” your hand came up to support your head for a better view of him adjusting his hero gear in the mirror, luckily you did — catching a small smirk from him. He glances at you through the mirror. “Yea, like I’d just sit around here and do nothing. Gotta make sure he’s got everything he needs.” He picked up his belt from his side of the dresser.

“He?” “He.” You snicker from the bed and he turns around, facing you fully. “What’s so funny? We’re having a boy.” Bakugou’s usually hard eyes soften when they catch your swollen belly slightly hidden by the pillow. “I know we’re having a girl..but we can always try again though” you wiggle your eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes.

The thought of leaving you every morning was starting to weigh on him, even if you didn’t notice and he was too stubborn to outright admit it. “You good?” He asked gruffly before crouching down next to you at the edge of the bed, pecking your lips.

One of his hands reaches out to you almost instinctively, resting on your stomach. It’s like second nature to him now — after all these months of your baby growing. His fingers trace gentle patterns across your warm skin as he felt the occasional kicks and shifts of ‘him’.

“Mm-hmm” you hum placing your hand over his. “But.. id be better if you stayed at home with me” This time, you were the one pecking his lips. Bakugou huffs and rolls his eyes again in a playful manner, but there’s no mistaking the underlying guilt flickering behind them. “Be home before ya know it. Just got the rest of the month babe, then I’m home for good.”

And before you could protest or even get another word out, he leans in again to press a kiss on your forehead, and then one to your belly. “Be nice to mommy, squirt” he mutters against it, his voice uncharacteristically tender and loving.

And just like that, the front door clicks shut and he’s out the door for the day, leaving you in a peaceful silence — already counting the hours before your man comes home again.

Blondieeu xx

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choerypetal · 18 hours ago

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Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho:

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were—your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos:

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—”

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi:

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho:

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun:

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

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nanamiscocksleeve · 2 days ago

Text

Razor's Caress

Warnings: MDNI, depilation, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie A/n: Just felt kinky and needed to write Zayne. Also, it is my firm belief that Zayne is a clit kisser after he performs oral. Hope everyone's New Year is going well and that the pull gods have been generous to you in the latest banner!

You giggle as Zayne’s large hands wander over your body, softly squeezing your curves as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. His tongue traces a warm line up the column of your throat and a contented sigh leaves your lips as you cling to him. Zayne takes his time, always keeping his touches light and teasing as he samples and savors every inch of your body that falls prey to his mouth.

As he starts slipping his smooth hands under your top, cupping your breasts, you can feel desire pouring into your veins as you take in his appearance; those mesmerizing eyes that were starting to darken at the periphery, his hot breath as it tickled your ear, and the unmistakable hardening bulge that was pressing against your thigh. Longing falls heavily on your senses but you hesitate, remembering that this little rendezvous wasn’t planned, and as such, you were completely and utterly unprepared down there.

It never failed to surprise you, how quickly the bush grew back like it was being treated with an extra strength hair growth formula, the coarse locks covering your mound and creeping onto your thighs. With a sigh, you knew you wouldn’t go any further tonight. You fully intended to make it up to him tomorrow, once you could groom down there and look presentable. Part of you knows that body hair is natural and you shouldn’t be fussing over it so much but considering this was a new relationship, you simply weren’t confident enough yet to bare yourself in your native state. It was the beginning of a relationship that was starting to solidify, and you wanted to stretch it out a little longer. After all, keeping the area free of hair was something that you did for yourself; it made you feel confident and well-kempt.

You place a hand on Zayne’s shoulder to grab his attention and he gazes at you, fire in his amber-green eyes. It almost makes you want to forget your hesitancy but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “Yes?” Zayne’s voice is a low growl as he waits for you to speak.

You clear your throat before speaking. “I-I’m sorry but, I don’t think we can go further tonight.” The disappointment is subtle but it makes your heart clench as you see it in his face, the slight droop in his mouth, and the change of warmth in his eyes. He sighs, then composing himself, rolls off you and you feel the loss keenly. You knew he could be balls deep inside you and if you said stop he’d pull out immediately, and you ached because right now you wanted just that; to feel his tongue all over you, to have his hot, velvety, flesh invade the part of you that throbbed and radiated with heat. But you remember what you looked like down there and try to curb your impulses.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.

“Don’t be. It’s all right.” Zayne cups your cheek and strokes it tenderly, and it almost breaks your already paper-thin resolve. “Was I going too fast?”

“No. It was perfect.” You lean over and card your fingers through his silky hair, leaning towards him till your foreheads touch. “And believe me, you have no idea how much I want to.”

“Then why stop?” Zayne presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and you almost groan in frustration.

“It’s…it’s just a thing I have to deal with.”

“What sort of thing?” Zayne pulls away to look at you and you feel yourself blushing under his gaze. How could you possibly tell him the reason?

“It’s kind of personal. I just need to take care of it before we can do anything.”

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. “You know you can tell me whatever it is right?” There’s a pause and you look away, feeling strangely shallow about your reasoning for not wanting to have sex tonight. You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Can we let it go?”

Observing the flustered way you’re avoiding him, Zayne frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Embarrassment creeps into your being and you turn to hide your face in your pillow and hear Zayne make a noise of amusement. He lays down beside, you, reassuringly patting your head. “You can tell me if you want to. No pressure. But I can’t see your face now.”

His words carry a light, teasing tone making you feel like you’re about to combust spontaneously. You feel him continue to pat your head and finally give in and admit the reason. Your voice is muffled by the pillow as you say it.

“I haven’t shaved.”

A moment of silence follows your words before Zayne lets out a huff. “Is that all?” His tone sounds relieved. “I thought I did something.”

“No! It’s not you at all.” You raise your face from the pillow and give him an earnest look. “I haven’t had time to do maintenance and don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” There’s a quirk in Zayne’s lips. “I think I’d very much like to see it no matter how it looks.”

“No!” you squeak the word and shake your head. “Trust me, you don’t.” Bemused at his reaction, you allow him to pull you into a tight embrace, his chest shaking with laughter, which did little to quell your insecurity. “Stop! This isn’t funny!” you pout, making him grip you harder.

“Of course it’s funny. Darling, do you really think I’m unaware that women have pubic hair? Or that it’s impossible to keep it neat all the time?” His breath tickles the back of your neck and you squirm.

“I’m not ready for you to see me like that! If we’re at that stage it means-” you stop abruptly before you could spill the beans.

“Hmm? What does it mean?” Zayne rolls you onto your other side so that he can look at you. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, listening to the barely contained rumble of his mirth.

“It means we’re in an actual relationship. Where you see me all gross and untidy and I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

You hear his breath hitch, and when there’s no response you boldly glance up at him. There’s a depth of softness there that you hadn’t seen before and your heart skips a beat as you see it; his gaze is making you melt and sends tingles through your body.

“Oh my god. You think we’re there.” There’s a moment of tense quiet as your heart hammers in your chest before he gathers you close to him.

“Yes. I think we’re there. Is that bad?” Zayne murmurs into your ear and you feel like your being might burst from the tenderness of his embrace.

“No. It’s not bad.” You play with his hands, letting your palms lay flat on each other, intertwining your fingers with his. “I wasn’t sure is all.”

“Then let me remove any doubts you may have.” Zayne kisses your forehead. “We are together. It is serious. And I’m honestly not bothered if you haven’t had time to shave.”

You swallow and look up at him. “Thank you for telling me. I like that. Us being serious.”

A calm atmosphere replaces the previous tension, and you relax in his arms as he strokes your back. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asks quietly. You consider it, then shake your head.

“No. I want to pick up where we stopped.” You take a deep breath then say, “Can you give me a little time? I’ll shave right now and we can get back into it.”

“Oh? You’re ok to tell me you want to shave now?” There’s humor in his tone.

“Yeah now that we’re serious. I think I can openly tell you that now.”

“Do you want any help?” The deep, sultry way he murmurs the question has your stomach doing flips. Wetting your lips you let out an awkward laugh.

“No! I mean why would you want to help me with that anyway?” Your pulse quickens as you realize he’s completely serious, based on the new intensity that forms in his eyes.

“Why not? I have a clear vantage point. I can see all of it, but I’m sure it must be challenging for you. Not to mention…I have a very delicate touch. Surgeon’s hands and all.” Zayne flourishingly flexes his fingers and you lay down on the bed as a fit of giggles captures you.

“Zayne stop it! I can do it on my own, really!” You shake your head at the image of him kneeling between your legs with a razor in hand. “Why are you so keen on this anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a certain someone once told me I’m not allowed to do anything and then helped herself to a variety of my personal toiletries. Including my shaving cream and razor.”

You blink as his words slowly settle over you and blush as you recall the day when you’d helped shave his morning stubble, watching his demeanor become increasingly aroused until he’d snapped and you’d rode him on the rocking chair until you’d milked his cock dry. Unsure how to reply you give him a sheepish smile, receiving a smirk in return.

“So that’s it? Revenge?” You ask as he rolls off the bed. You squeak as he pulls you towards him then scoops you up in his arms, holding you securely against his chest.

“Not at all, darling.” He nuzzles your hair as he walks towards the bathroom. “Think of it as me returning the favor.” He switches on the light and deposits you on the large counter next to the sink. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch him open one of the drawers and take out his shaving cream, and an unopened razor head which he replaces onto the handle of his razor after discarding the old blade.

“Must be sanitary after all. Don’t want to bring any bacteria to such a sensitive area. Now…I believe it’s time to disrobe my patient.” Your mouth goes dry as he stands between your legs, running his hands along your bare calves before flirting with the waistband of your shorts, hooking his finger into it and tugging it down, slowly revealing your abdomen and belly button. You shiver as the elastic lowers onto your hips and brace yourself on your hands to raise your lower body, assisting him in slipping off the garment. Once it’s been discarded, his eyes fixate between your legs, and you feel the unmistakable sensation of wetness. Could anyone blame you? Zayne’s foreplay was always intense and effective, it wasn’t much of a surprise that you had a stain of moisture on your panties.

Zayne runs a finger over the patch and you suck in a breath at the contact. A small huff of satisfaction falls from his mouth as he looks back at your face. “Were you honestly planning on staying like this all night? Aroused and denying yourself relief?”

“I would have calmed down after a while,” you murmur defensively, letting out a hum as he leans closer to you to lick and nip your earlobe.

“What a disservice that would have been to both of us.” Transfixed, all you can do is watch as he starts to remove your panties, the small strip of fabric clearing your legs in no time and falling to the floor. Chills race down your spine as your bare ass settles on the marble counter. You avert your gaze as Zayne takes a look at your hairy mound, the coarse, curly hair fully visible on your sex. He gently pats your knee.

“Open.” The word is a gentle command and despite the heat rushing to your face, you obey and part your legs, letting him have an unfiltered view of your unshaven pussy. You feel moisture gather in your core under his gaze, a familiar throbbing feeling returning to your clit, and your nipples start to perk up under your pajama top. A strangled gasp falls from your lips as his fingers softly pet the tatch of hair, running a finger down the crease of your thigh before he takes your ankles and sets them up at an angle on the edge of the counter.

Your sex was now fully on display to his probing vision and, heat and need gathering in your lower belly as he ran his fingertip down the partition that separated the labia from the inner membranes, then running it superficially over the length of your slit, and you can’t help but make a quick bucking motion at the touch.

“Soon. I promise.” Zayne reaches for the shaving cream, pressing down on the nozzle until the foamy substance falls onto his fingers. He carefully spreads the cream all over your mound, the edges of your labia, and the creases of your inner thighs. Every small stroke only stokes the fire inside you, the unexpected eroticism of the act making you wetter and eager to feel his fingers on a more intimate spot. Your breath catches as the cold, metal edge of the razor is felt on your skin, and then with a smooth dragging motion, you feel your hair part company with your skin. The quiet noise of the blade removing your hair fills the bathroom, punctuated with the sound of both your breathing and the soft taps of the razor as Zayne clears the head into the sink.

He’s meticulous and patient, slanting the instrument delicately to get into the small nooks and using a firm but delicate touch to hold apart your lips as he works the razor near the delicate spots, then going lower to the back ends of the labia near your core. Time seems to move slower under his ministrations, and when he’s finally satisfied with his work, he takes a small hand towel which he runs under warm water from the sink before cleaning off the excess shaving cream. You peek down to admire his handiwork, seeing how smooth your skin looked, at how tidy and tamed it now was.

Your clit was conspicuously visible now, unconcealed from the hair that was hiding it from view. You can feel it throb from the attention and your calves quiver from holding yourself apart for so long on the counter. You’re about to drop them down when Zayne firmly puts his hands on your knees. “Just a little longer.”

You don’t dare move as he bends, his breath ghosting your sensitive skin which feels even more naked than usual with the missing hair. You sensed what he was about to do before it happened. A soft moan of wantonness leaves your lips and echoes off the tiles of the bathroom as Zayne’s clever tongue delves into your folds, lapping at the gathering honey that’s been accumulating all night. He leisurely dives into your hole, letting the watery nectar flow into his mouth. Your cunt was ripe with the scent of desire and it takes all his strength to not senselessly fuck you on the counter at this very moment.

His tongue drags upwards sinfully, stimulating every nook and cranny of your delicate sex before teasingly flicking against the base of your clit, upsetting your balance as your hips arch forward in need. Your heels almost slide off the counter but Zayne reassuringly has you in a tight hold that keeps you in place. The little moans turn into mewls of pleasure as he sets up a rhythm, letting saliva dribble onto his tongue and slowly tracing short lines on your clit, patient little strokes from the bottom of the little bud to the top that have you squeezing your eyes closed as you try not to scream out from insanity. His spit combines with your arousal and pools down at the base of your cunt, a little messy puddle forming on the counter.

Your hands keep flexing before finally finding purchase on his shoulders, squeezing them tight, and you hear a low noise from Zayne as your fingernails dig into his skin. You’d never felt so exposed, so utterly defenseless, all of you display for him to toy with as he pleased. You can feel your walls spasming in expectation and let out a quavering whine as you feel his fingers probing your entrance, pushing into you and scissoring inside to stretch you out. As he begins to stroke that spongy patch of nerves inside you, you feel the control snapping away from your body like a curtain being ripped off its hooks. Unashamedly, you moan, your hips undulating on his face as Zayne pushes you to the point of ecstasy.

You cry out sharply as you orgasm, the delicious spasm of ripples from within bubbling into your core and sending a heady rush into your system. The aftershocks continued to trickle through you, and Zayne slowly pulled his fingers out, covered in your essence. He places a soft kiss on your clit, a tender gesture that has your heartwarming despite the carnal act that had just taken place. He licks his fingers clean, then cups your cheek lovingly, taking in the sight of your flushed face and bright eyes, the way your hardened nipples showed up through your sleep top. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Darling…What am I supposed to do with you looking so delightfully sweet right now?” His thumbs brush the sides of your breasts you’re acutely aware of how close he is to losing control. You can feel the rock-hard push of his cock against your legs and his breath mingling with yours as he leans down for a hot kiss. You taste the salty tang of your arousal coating his lips and greedily suck his tongue, reveling in the flavor and the muffled gasp of desire that bubbles from Zayne’s chest. His strong arms hook around you and you feel your bottom part contact with the counter and wrap your legs around him instinctively. Not breaking the kiss and positive he was taking you back to bed, you fumble with the elastic of his pajama bottoms, sliding them down with your feet and teasingly pressing against the heated flesh.

Zayne’s body tenses at the feeling of your toes strolling along the length of his cock and he feels something primal unleash in his belly. Thoughts of a soft bed and taking it slowly are driven from his mind barely a few steps out of the bathroom door. He turns and you feel your back come in contact with the wall, eyes opening hazily as a string of saliva connects your tongue to his.

“You make me insatiable you little minx.” Zayne growls in your ear and supports you against the wall as he tries to free himself from the confines of his pajamas. “Didn’t think shaving your cunt would get me this hard.” Swaying in his arms and seeing his struggle, you carefully unwrap a leg from around his waist and use it to push down the pajama pants all the way, hearing them swish to the floor as they pool around his ankles.

You pull your leg back up and resume your position, purring in his ear. “Maybe we’ll make that a permanent arrangement then.” A growl of approval rumbles from within him as he holds you firmly in the air against the firmness of the wall. You slide your body ever so slightly, reaching down to help position him as he pushes upwards and notches his thick, weeping, cockhead at your entrance. You let your body slide further, moaning as he instinctively closes the gap between your bodies. The eroticism of the moment is heightened by the sensation of your pajama tops brushing against each other while your bare lower halves worked in harmony to seek and provide each other with the intimate pleasure you’d been craving all night.

Zayne’s hot, velvety, length glides into your wetness, each thrust pressing you back against the wall. Helpless to anything else but cling to him you moan sexily in his ear, holding onto him for dear life. Each stroke sent bursts of euphoria through you, your pants growing heavier and more broken as your nails dig into his back. You feel tension in his body, finally realizing how badly he’d been craving you all night and your body completely surrenders to his movements, content to let him have you anyway he pleased.

Wet noises fill the air as Zayne ruts into you, his tip kissing your cervix and brushing against your gspot, his hips deliciously thrusting against yours. The stretch and fill of him felt undeniably satisfying. You stroke his hair, whispering endearments to him as he chases his orgasm. The soft feel of your lips near his ear encouraging him to let go have Zayne’s vision growing fuzzy at the edges, his fingers digging into your flesh as though you’re an anchor. His abdomen is taut with anticipation, balls heavy and ready to unload themselves.

His eyes squeeze shut as he feels every little contraction of your pussy on him, then finally gives in to the demanding needs of his body. The coil snaps in his belly and the ecstatic contractions of gratification grip his body as he thrusts into you as high as he can, sheathing himself fully into your wetness, thick jets of his seed rushing forward to paint your womb. He moans as he waits for the contractions to subside, then gently caresses your cheek, easing his body out of yours as he helps you off the wall. Your legs quiver and burn from the position they’d been in and you lean on him for support, clenching your walls as you feel the naughty liquidy slip of his seed about to fall from your channel.

He tenderly runs his hands over your body, pressing kisses to your hair, then cradles you against him. “How are your legs?” he inquires and you chuckle weakly, feeling a sheen of sweat coating his chest.

“They hurt. But I think I’ll survive,” you say jokingly. Zayne huffs and starts leading you back to bed. You lie down on the cool sheets, eyes heavy with fatigue, and snuggle into Zayne’s body.

Gentle moonlight falls across both of you as he strokes your back soothingly, bringing an uncontrollable wave of sleep across your body. As you settle down for the night, there’s a deep sense of comfort in knowing that Zayne was now going to be a constant in your life and you smile sleepily into his neck before succumbing to your dreams.

@theimmortalbuns @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume

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