#so scary to think that their each action

[tarnished-butsogrand]

This is not about Liam.

[dervampireprince]

i feel like how i think about and characterise lucifer in sexual scenarios it so different from most of the fandom. and that's okay, honestly it's interesting to me to see people interpret a character in different ways, but if you don't like thinking about lucifer romance or redemption arcs then this post isn't for you.

[18+ only, minors dni]

thoughts about lucifer x gender neutral-ish reader thoughts. (reader is describes as having a clit and vagina, this is post is written by a trans man)

so i'm talking about a lucifer who has lost, i think he has to lose and fail at the apocalypse in season 5, he has to be shown he can be overpowered, he has to be shown that his father's plans and prophecies can be changed and are actually just bullshit. so this is a lucifer who still failed in season 5, and gets freed from the cage like in season 11, still using nick's body.

and i like to lean into lucifer's inhuman-ness and trauma because i find that interesting and is that because i can relate to parts of him... yeah sure of course.

i see a lot of interpretations of him where he's written as having had a lot of sex, of having a lot of casual sex with you before any feelings take place, of being crass and crude and and i just... i don't think he's ever had sex. i think he's disgusted by humans and that includes the things they do with each other.

i think he has to fall for you first (poor choice of words, i know).

i think you have to be at least a little nice to him. not naive, you know what he is, who he is and what he's done, but if he's here you're at least going to talk to him, not avoid him, not yell at him every conversation. and he's never really just sat down and talked with someone in a long time.

of course he'll tease you, and he'll try and push your buttons and make you hate him, people are supposed to hate him, you're supposed to hate him, why don't you hate him?

and he hates that he likes spending time with you. he doesn't want to need or want anyone, but of course he craves it. that desire to rule and be worshipped is just his desire to be loved, a craving for what he once had but was ripped from him.

you find yourself enjoying spending time with him, teasing him back, even standing up for him when he does actually keep his word. and it surprises him.

you tell him he can be anything he wants, that he doesn't have to be defined by his past and certainly not what his father says he is. screw the idea of fate and destiny. who are you lucifer? who do you want to be? and he doesn't really know anymore. he doesn't really want to end the world, hasn't for a while now. but he doesn't know what else he could be if he casts aside all the labels he's gained.

he couldn't ever make the first move, if he realises he loves you. and he could love you. you're so warm and full of light, everything that he used to be but isn't anymore. but his grace sings for you. you make him feel like he actually could change, that it could be worth it to change.

and he wouldn't be good on dates. he wouldn't buy you gifts, wouldn't know what a human would want anyway. it's not easy to have him be in public, he's too agitated, too ready to be snarky to anyone walking past, too ready to complain about everything. but let him? be patient with him, let him complain, join in with him, ask him his opinions on things, let him figure out how to be himself and show him he's not gonna put you off.

you would have to make the first move. and if you told him you loved him, he would panic. perhaps even teleport straight out of there. but he'd come back. you deserve that at least. and you'd tell him again. you'd let yourself be alone with him. give some trust to him, let him have you.

he'd be so touch starved. even in this stupid human body, he would shiver if you touched him. ask if he can touch you, if you'd let him, ever checking for your consent. and all those stupid human activities he never understood the want for, he craves them now.

he love kissing you, could get addicted too it, how you gasp and cling to him. sadly he normally forgets you also need to breathe. the first time he realises he can slide his tongue into your mouth and the sound you make is going to stay with him. he's going to replay that in his mind. or even better, he'll figure out how to get you to make that sound again.

he doesn't take sex lightly. he wants to make you feel good. he wants to learn what you like, where your most sensitive spots are, and prod them until you see stars. he's not experienced, but a fast learner, and more than willing to try out whatever ideas of kinks you have. he's actually excited at the idea of learning more about you, getting to do more things with you. for all his lack of experience, he's smug, he knows when he's made you feel good.

he's so good with his mouth. eating you out like he's worshipping you. lapping at your clit, forked tongue twisted around it, almost as if it's trying to jerk you off.

telling you how pretty you are, how well you take his fingers, then his cock. amazed that you're letting him do this. amazed at how much he likes it, how good it feels. how you've finally let him inside you.

it feels good everywhere you touch him. before you touch his cock he's already dripping just from your hands on his face, his neck, running down his sides. he's so needy and eager.

if you can see and touch his wings... well... he can't bear to let you see them at first. they're not going to be like whatever you've pictured. he's fell. and then he was in the cage, burning, in pain, for so long. but they're part of him and you tell him you'll love every part of him. his wings are scarred, once white now charred black and red in most places, and they clearly haven't been loved in a long time.

you're gentle with him, straightening feathers, removing debris, and he's shaking. shaking and panting by the end, hiding his face from you. you're worried you've hurt him once you notice he's been crying, but you haven't. he's overwhelmed by now long it's been since anyone touched them, how wonderful it feels to have someone touch them. you assure him that they're beautiful, that he's beautiful, you're angel, that despite how much he thinks he has dimmed that he still shines brightly to you.

he warps them around you like a cocoon the first time you have sex with his wings out, wants to keep you safe in them, not let anyone or anything hurt you. (he's always worried that he'll be the one to hurt you, even though he never wants too). if you tell him you love him during sex, if you intertwine your fingers with his, it makes him come faster and harder but he'll never tell you that.

with more experience, and the power of searching the internet, comes more adventurous encounters. he learns what he likes. and what he likes is: overstimulating you, making you come over and over again, he just wants to make you feel good, won't like let him make you feel good? especially overstimulating you with his mouth. his ego is still always there, tell him no one else could please him like you, no one could ever make you feel this good, praise him, call him beautiful, tell him he's good, tell him he fills you so well, that he fits perfectly inside you, call him your king or god and he might just come on the spot. honestly just say his name, or moan it, and that does a lot to him. love being deep inside you, legs over his shoulders, or pressing you deep into the bed from behind. he'd enjoying tying you up, the trust that comes with that, letting him touch you and use you (same goes for if you tell him you want him too fuck you in your sleep or fall asleep with him inside you). perhaps being slightly risky, having you in the bunker while others are around, teasing you that you have to keep quiet otherwise you'll be heard, 'so needy for me, couldn't even wait until everyone was gone to have me'. surprisingly, likes it when you mark him. he's as much yours as you are his, it makes him reassured that he's wanted.

but i'm just a soft boy who likes the idea of someone who's been hurt learning to let people love them and be able to love others idk maybe you think this is all super out of character for him and that's okay. it's all just my opinions and headcannons on a fictional character.

[chuuciae]

mr bear and i are watching law and order and dateline..... and taking pics of the soap bars...

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[robogart]

I'm sure a lot of us didn't sleep, and woke up early to check results for the election. Like others have said much more eloquently, do not despair. Despair is the enemy of action. Despair freezes your mind and body, and we can't allow that.

Things have been terrible and scary before, and they will be again, but we will survive through it and still find ways to live. We will laugh and love, cry and rage. The fight is never over, and it always begins in your corner.

It begins with your friends, with your family, your neighbors, your communities, your towns and cities. So many things feel impossibly big, but the work and the change starts small and it starts local to you. There was something I read once about how we weave our own corners of work. And while the big picture is wrought and torn, we work our corners to repair and weave a stronger section, stitch by stitch, and our edges will meet each other to make a better tapestry.

Grieve a little, yes. Always allow yourself to grieve. But do NOT despair. We are still here, we are still alive, and we are loved. We do not stop, we endure. We love fiercely. We create fiercely. We uplift each other and help each other where we can and we do not forget. Continue staying beautiful and safe everyone, and work your corners. Change starts small, local and closer to home than you think! And we will make it okay for each other. Do not despair. You are still here and so am I and so are they. We care fiercely about you and each other and we will get through this. Work your corners and keep living your life, it has not stopped yet and it shall continue. ♥️

[su-angelvicioso]

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about these tags from @sannehale <3 since I first saw them because they’re so real lmaoo. It really wasn’t a big deal for them at all lmaoo.

I just think it’s so hilarious how both of them really just don’t care that much L0L. They know the business. They simply said it is what it is, and didn’t hesitate when attempting to contact each other again afterwards like they are so unserious.💀

Jasper: She took my life, made me fight in a war killing thousands, and she even plotted to kill me.

Peter: Maybe we should kill her then?

Jasper: Why would I do that?

[shkika]

W1 design is done finally!!

W1 is both of the V models having combined themselves into one machine! Here are some notes on it! There's a lot to this fucker I think, but I'll do my best to cover what's most important.

Design notes:

More fragile areas are usually using V2's standard tougher plating. Main examples are the base of it's limbs, as the less of it's arm it potentially loses the better, it's head (which has 2 brains inside!), kneecaps and it's shooter arms, which are less powerful but made to handle guns and weaponry with more finesse.

Note! The knuckleblaster largely is off-colored, because it is a creation of V2's before their merge (she was not made with it). She made it before they combined. Has modified only it's hand after their merge (blue).

Big surface areas or places where blood often ends up use V1's plating. So like it's chest, forearms, punching fists and so on!

Their eye looks like that, because it's cool. and. 2 brains.

Their wings are a combination, because of limited resources. If it could use all of V2's it would as they are better protected.

Character/lore notes:

The V's do NOT fight for the body. Actually any disagreement on actions it must perform are VERY dangerous and scary they prioritize reaching a solution as FAST as possible.

Not functioning correctly can mean death. That being said differing opinions specifically are okay as long as they reach the same final conclusion on what to do. Nobody is panicking if they disagree on what their fave color is.

The two brains send requests incredibly fast between each other to operate the body. Both have full control over the body and must operate it together. This is a VERY processing heavy task and an inefficient one so it requires a lot of blood. It is a VERY hungry machine.

W1 combines before the events of the game! W1 would go through the events of the game in place of just V1.

[skrunksthatwunk]

been wringing my hands about the concept of family therapy. scary stuff. like maybe it could help and we sure as hell need SOMETHING to change but i think it would be like taking a potato peeler to the soles of my feet

[undead-cypress]

Strohl and Hulkenberg are so funny to me as a duo. They're the exact same type of people - they NEED to pledge their life to a liege or they'll start ripping up your couch like an understimulated shepherd dog. However they go about it in polar opposite directions. (Early-game story spoilers ahead, mid-game gameplay spoilers) Hulkenberg had her life purpose taken away years back and comes to realize hyperfocusing probably isn't the optimal way to go about it, so she expands her horizons to do her duty better. Strohl had no will to live until joining the assassination plot, and then it fails so bad he resolves to hyperfocus so hard the classes he unlocks can only do one thing, critical slash damage really really well

Hulkenberg is the formal knightly one but she delights in mucking around and would rather fist fight people than think. But then she demolishes you in chess and teaches you tactics while Strohl, the familiar casual guy who's a lot more stategically minded is the one always sharpening a sword and implying if anything happened to you, seppuku may be on the table - Gallica this is so scary play encounter music - my courage has increased

It all clicked when I saw their third tier classes are paladin/dark knight and samurai. Ohhhh you guys are henchmen. You wanna be henchmen so bad. They're the exact same kinda guy but are completely baffled by everything the other guy does. They have everything in common and nothing in common. They both think they're the normal one of the group. They have completely different ideas about how to best do their jobs but they simply must beat the shit out of each other on the deck daily or else they might have to actually go to therapy. I need an early 2000s team up/roadtrip action movie with these two where Will is faking being kidnapped to draw out the bad guys but Gallica didn't tell Strohl and Hulkenberg because their bad acting would immediately give it away and they proceed to absolutely demolish the metaphorical furniture of the house of Euchronia looking for the world's most specialest lil' captain. Do you see my vision 🤌

[drdemonprince]

In a piece for The New Inquiry from back in 2017, George Dust states that when queer people complain about there being a top shortage, what they really mean is “nobody is fucking me the way I want, and I have no agency in that.” Alongside co-authors Billy-Ray Belcourt and Kay Gabriel, Dust suggests that many queer people align themselves with a passive or “bottom” position because they believe that role will absolve them of the guilt of really wanting things. They present themselves as what they believe to be the sexual party with zero power; the receiver, the accepter of action rather than its cause.

This position is drawn in contrast to the bottom-identified person’s idea of a top: the one who approaches, the person with hungers and desires, the person who decides which sexual activities will happen and how intense they will get. The top, from this perspective, is the stronger, more capable, more dangerous person. They’re the only one who can ever be guilty of intruding or harming somebody else. This power is scary, but it’s also compelling.

Dust calls this fantastical version of a top a “brute” — and they are the most cartoonish stereotype of what it means in society to be a man. Because it’s a cartoonish stereotype, no human actually lives up to it — and we’d probably revile a person even if they could.

Though queer people know we are harmed by the gender binary and heteronormativity and all the social scripts those things force upon us, its biases are still embossed on our brains. Without meaning to, we reproduce tired gender stereotypes in our relationships. And so we see expressing a sexual want as masculine, and being masculine as being more capable of violence and coercive control, and thus bad. We see failing to communicate one’s desires openly as desirably feminine, as well as a sign of blamelessness and purity — because on some level we still feel it is wrong to have desires.

But this entire worldview is a complete lie. Desire is not evil. Expressing attraction is not a violation. Failing to express oneself can be just as dangerous as not listening to someone else’s limits. Women can be abusive. Bottoms can sexually assault. No matter our gender, presentation, or sexual role, we are each capable of harm. And the only way to make a safe, mutually pleasurable sexual encounter happen is by going after it, actively, and communicating from a position of inner strength.

So how do you do that, if society’s been telling you all your life that you’re meant to date by acting like a deer passively snapping twigs in the woods, waiting for some hunter to hear you, and pursue you? (That really is dating advice that Evangelical Christian counselors give to women, if you can believe it).

By not fixating so much on what you’re doing or not doing to draw other people toward you, and instead thinking in terms of what you want and what you observe beyond yourself.

[starmapz]

husband!sukuna modern/non-curse au sfw & nsfw headcanons. nsfw below the cut.

❦ cw ; mdni. 18+ only. f!reader. fluff. smut. size kink. oral (m! and f! receiving). manhandling. choking. bondage. breeding kink. degradation. fingering. rough sex. based loosely on my biker ryomen sukuna x biker female reader oneshot but can be read separately.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

husband!sukuna who always sports a frown and disinterested look until his eyes are on you. his friends insist you need to be around at all times to make him more tolerable.

husband!sukuna who doesn’t hesitate to knock someone out for looking at you the wrong way. he’s a storm of anger and violence until a touch on his arm from you grounds him. it doesn’t change the fact that he would still knock someone out in a heartbeat, but he mellows out at your assuring words and candied tone.

husband!sukuna who’s scary enough to part crowds and have people avoid him, but he lets you paint his nails (black only), and on rare occasions he’ll let you put eyeliner on him. he doesn’t mind as much when you insist it’s hot.

husband!sukuna who shoves your face away or flicks your forehead when you ask him stupid questions. you don’t need to know if he would still love you if you were a worm and he’d much rather hear your giggle when he playfully shoves you anyway. and for the record, he would, and he would keep you in a little dirt tank.

husband!sukuna who’s extra careful when he drives his motorcycle with you clinging to him. he doesn’t dare weave through traffic like he regularly would despite the fact that he’s confident in his driving ability.

husband!sukuna who tries to introduce you to video games he likes so that you can play them together. you end up enjoying animal crossing and stardew valley the most and although he makes a scene out of playing them with you, he secretly loves holding you on his lap while you catch fish and tell him to plant turnips.

husband!sukuna who’s enamored when you suggest getting your wedding rings tattooed on. you suggest a thick band to match his other tattoos and he immediately gets heart eyes at the thought. you? matching his tattoos? that’s about as hot as it gets.

husband!sukuna who always has a hand on your hips or waist. it doesn’t matter where you are, one hand, whether subconsciously or not, is always on your hips. his thumb will rub small circles into the skin beneath your shirt and most of the time he doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.

husband!sukuna who loves the size difference between you both. he’s an absolute monster of a man at almost seven feet tall with the muscles to match and he adores his smaller wife. he especially loves that you don’t mind him manhandling you and he’ll use that to his advantage constantly.

husband!sukuna who listens to everything you have to say far more intently than he leads on. even if he gives off the impression he isn’t paying attention, every word is burned into his mind in case the same topic of conversation comes up again.

husband!sukuna who has a secret stash of every little thing you’ve pointed out in store windows that he’s gone back and bought later. he saves each one for the next occasion, always surprising you with something you mentioned liking a year ago. if you have a bad day, he’ll surprise you with a gift just to see you smile.

husband!sukuna who has only ever said he loves you out loud twice. once when you first said it to him, and once at your wedding. the words just aren’t in his vocabulary, but he goes above and beyond with his actions to show you just how much he does love you. he knows you know every time he insists on carrying you to bed, holding you tightly to his warm body and never letting go no matter how much you complain about overheating.

husband!sukuna who grins at the sight of his leather jacket draped over your shoulders like a dress when you tell him you’re cold. he thinks it’s the cutest sight on earth, but more than anything he wants to see his jacket on you with nothing underneath so he can slide it off your bare shoulders.

husband!sukuna who loves to hold your chin and feel your saliva drip down his fingers with his cock filling your mouth. he loves the way you look up at him like his perfectly obedient princess.

husband!sukuna who can’t get enough of your strangled moans with his fingers carefully compressing your neck. he did research into how to properly choke you to make sure he doesn’t hurt his sweet wife.

husband!sukuna who loves to watch his cum dripping from your folds, using his fingers to stuff you full. he can’t get enough of the sight of you sucking on his fingers afterwards with a lustful look that has him instantly ready for another round.

husband!sukuna who becomes very chatty during sex, spewing the dirtiest degrading words you’ve ever heard, only to flip on a dime when you’re both blissed out of your minds. his tone will change from a low growl to a sultry hum as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

husband!sukuna who spouts the nastiest things in your ear just to see the way you fluster beneath him, unable to hide with him in such close proximity.

husband!sukuna who leaves purpled marks across your entire body, loving the way they paint your skin, but most of all he loves to bite. he just can’t help himself from softly biting the plump skin of your ass or digging his teeth into your shoulder to leave behind a mark.

husband!sukuna who knows his tongue piercing affects you in ways you won’t admit. he loves to run it over your nipple or through your slick entrance just to see the way you squirm and your toes curl at the delightful contrast of cool metal to his warm tongue.

husband!sukuna who loves to hold your hands over your head while he fucks you relentlessly. he loves the look of his darling wife restrained at his mercy with nothing but pleasure swirling in your eyes.

husband!sukuna who feels as though his skin is on fire when you suggest that he can, in fact, tie you up. he does surprisingly extensive research to make sure he doesn’t hurt you and gets the most high-end red ropes he can. the sight of your wrists bound to the headboard sends him into a frenzy as he worships every part of your body.

husband!sukuna who will live between your thighs if you ask him. he loves to please you and watch your jaw slack with pleasure, he loves the way your eyes roll back, and he loves your moans and whimpers. his favorite sound on earth is when you moan his name.

husband!sukuna who loves the way your hips buck and jolt when his fingers find your g-spot. holding you down and feeling the way your legs tremble and your body melts into him when you reach your climax is like a drug to him.

husband!sukuna who’s the king of aftercare. he knows he’s rough on your body and although he knows you love it and he established a safe word, he’ll pamper you for as long as you need afterwards. he knows exactly how you like your baths and he’ll get in behind you and clean you while he sensually kisses your nape.

husband!sukuna who drapes you over him like a blanket and loves the way your curves seem to conform to the toned musculature of his body. He won’t let you go for a second even while he sleeps either, because he can’t bear to be apart from you and he loves his wife more than life itself.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; can't stop thinking about husband!sukuna tbh, i just love him sm.

writing & format © starmapz. dividers © adornedwithlight and © cafekitsune.

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[captain-huggy-bear]

In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

[mythblossoms]

to come home

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

content: fluff and comfort, soft yearning, kissing, suggestive if you squint?, lighthearted, established relationship, unedited

a/n: i just think zayne deserves a quiet life where he can be the little spoon ♡ coming back to writing after so long is scary but hi ♡

wc: 1.1k

It’s 11:01, the harsh blue glow of his computer screen illuminates his office, and Zayne is thinking of the comfort of home. 

Not the physical structure - all concrete and glass, hard walls enclosed around structured spaces that begged for routine, but the warmth that often resided within.

You, curled up on the couch, book in hand and eyes slowly skimming through the words. You, perched on the counter top, sipping a sweet latte and sighing contently. You, watering the plants on his windowsill and whispering little words of encouragement. You, a warm sun that cast light into every room you stepped into, leaving the space a little darker, colder when you left. 

It’s 11:05, as Zayne stares at the remnants of a hazelnut latte sitting on the corner of his desk - delivered to him by you several hours earlier. A drawing of a little snowman poking its head over the sleeve of the cup. A small dose of warmth in an otherwise blurry day. He missed you. Not that you hadn’t seen each other, but this was different. Rushed, fleeting moments existed — small, sweet treats that left behind a craving. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could ever be fully satisfied, not when the treat was gone but the sweetness still lingered on his tongue.

It’s 11:15, and the soft ping of his phone is notifying him of messages from you with hidden notes tucked tenderly between the letters.

- ping

Have you eaten yet? (I miss you, take care of yourself)

- ping

Let me know when you’re on your way! (I care about you, please come back safely)

He had grown accustomed to these secret words and meanings interwoven into the space that was you and him. With each message, his heart ached a bit more. 

It’s 11:27, and the lights of Zayne’s office are off. A cup with a snowman drawing is gently placed in a waste bin. His bag and coat are missing from the coat rack by the door and he’s driving to his home. 

It’s interesting how home can be anything. Home can be a house, the things gathered to create a space that belongs to the person living there. It can be a family or a person, the people who hold the hearts of their loved ones close. How odd that Zayne never thought of home before you. 

Seeing you silhouetted in the ambient light, his cardigan draped on your figure - too big in the shoulders, too long for your frame - the smell of mint tea hanging in the air — this is what it meant to be home. His heart swelled as you turned, that bright smile welcoming him home. 

“I see someone has found a sweater to their liking.” 

“Yep,” you quipped, hugging the cardigan closer to your body. “I think it likes me more than its current owner. It wants to live with its friends back in my closet.” 

Zayne smiled slightly, stepping into the warm kitchen as you placed two mugs on the counter. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep it from its true desire.” 

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you back securely against him. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck - settling into the warmth and pressing one soft kiss onto the collarbone peeking out from the collar of the cardigan. A contented sigh leaving your lips as you leaned into him, cupping the warm mug in your hands. 

“Thank you for this,” he murmured, attempting to stitch every unspoken feeling along those four words. ‘Can we stay like this a little longer?’ ‘I want to be with you - always.’ ‘You’re home to me.’ You had a way of weaving these declarations tenderly into your actions and words. Zayne hoped, by closing his eyes, by holding you closer, these unsaid words would flow to you. 

Gently, you turned in his arm to face him, one hand still clasped around your mug. You gazed up at him, placing your other hand on his chest, feeling the warmth there. “I’m glad you’re home,” you whispered. No hidden meanings - stated so honestly as you smiled. 

Zayne took the mug from your hand, setting it on the counter behind you, and dropped his forehead to yours. “If I can be a bit…selfish,” he breathed, ghosting his lips over yours. “There’s one more thing I would ask for.” His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and guided your lips to his. Slowly, his lips moved against yours. His hands, cool on your warm face, moved down your shoulders, dipping underneath the oversized cardigan and caressing your waist. Each movement intentional, as if his fingers had memorized the curve of your body - the feeling of you under his hands grounding him. 

Again, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing slowly as he released the kiss. His eyes locked on yours, dazed, as his hands tightly held your waist. Words were no longer needed, every movement proclaiming every feeling Zayne had tried to contain. He leaned down to grasp your waist, lifting you onto the counter. 

“Oh-”, you mumbled as you felt the cup behind you. “Your tea!” 

“Tea,” he said, pressing another kiss to your jaw, “can wait. Right now - I just need you.” His voice was soft as he slowly trailed his lips up your jawline, punctuating each sentence with a light kiss. 

Zayne was always so patient, quiet in a collected way. Need was a new word - and your heart ached as his hands pressed in your lower back. Your arms found their way up around his neck, running your fingers up and through his hair. “I’m here,” you whispered, pressing light kisses up his jawline to the shell of his ear. “You have me.” 

Zayne took a deep, controlled breath as he ran his hands up your spine, fingers tracing the arch of your back. “I like it when you’re here,” he murmured. His lips found yours again, savoring the way they melded together — relishing in the small sounds you made as he deepened the kiss and held you as though you were keeping him afloat. 

He hesitated again, his eyes still closed and hands still pressed against your back. “It would be even better, if you were here all the time.” He chanced a look at you then, barely opening his eyes. 

And you were smiling at him, pulling him closer still and cupping his face in your hands. “Is this your subtle way of asking if I would like to move in?” Your lips, still pink from the previous kisses, pressed one small kiss to the tip of his nose - an unspoken answer of ‘I want to be with you all the time too.’

Zayne looked down, the corners of his mouth slightly turning up. “How else will I retrieve all my missing sweaters?” He hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you off the counter. “I think I’ll start with this one.” 

Your warm laughter filled the air as he carried you to his room, the mint teas left to cool on the counter.

[je0ng1nn]

SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE — Hwang In-Ho

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ PAIRING — Hwang In-Ho x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ INCLUDES — basic Squid game violence, maybe a little bit spice, age gap (reader is mid 20‘s In-house is late 40‘s), Jealousy

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ NOTE — Okay y‘all.. since my last fanfic about Sangwoo got lots of love, i decided to write another one.. this time about In-ho!!! I seriously love that guy it isn’t normal anymore… I also tried out a new writing style as i‘m still trying to find out a good style to write in, so let me know which one you prefer!!

(PART 2)

I was talking to Gi-hun as I felt an uncomfortable feeling, someone was staring at me. But not the normal staring, the type of staring that would linger on you for way to long. The type of staring that made you feel uneasy right away. But i decided to shrug it off. „I hope the next game won’t be too difficult,“ Gi-hun said as he slowly exhaled.

„Me too.. the last game was exhausting enough.. I really thought we would’ve died when we only got 10 seconds left to make it to the finish line..“ I closed my eyes in relief, it was definitely an expierience for itself, Pentathlon felt like the hardest one.. Red Light Green Light was very easy.. just the shock of the people dying for the first time got to me.

„Hm.. let’s just dig in right? I think we need enough energy for today.“ Dae-ho said. I nodded and started to eat my food, listening to the others as they continued to talk. Me and Young-il were the only ones being quiet.

„Y/N-ah.. take my bread, i don‘t need it. You didn’t eat a lot yesterday after the game ended.“ Young-il smiled at me, it was a weird but reassuring smile.. it made me feel warm inside. „Oh really sir? It isn’t a problem or?“ I asked again, only to make sure. He just nodded and handed it to me, i didn’t take the whole tho, i broke it in half.

„Young-il sir, don’t give me everything, you also need some food and energy.“ I gave him the other half. He was a little shocked by my action, his eyes widened slightly. I looked up at his, before giving him a soft half-smile. He nodded and ate together with me.

We continued to eat in peace before guards came in. „Players, please follow us to the next game.“ the one in the middle said. We all looked at each other before hesitating to stand up. Young-il took my wrist to make sure i didn’t get lost in the crowd.

My cheeks got a light shade of pink as i quickly looked away. I heard a short chuckle coming out of Young-il‘s mouth. I just decided to ignore it, but my body made it hard. It completely gave me away, my heart skipping a beat at his sweet chuckle.

We followed the guards into a room, Young-il‘s grip tightened on me when we arrived inside. „What could this place be?“ I asked quietly as i looked around. The whole room was big and colorful. It counted 50 Doors, each having different colors, in the middle of the room there was a platform with a statue in the middle of it. It looked scary but also nostalgic, like a sweet children’s place, but knowing what happens in here, it didn’t seem so sweet as it looks.

„Players, please step on the platform in the middle of the room“ the creepy voice called out, I tensed at hearing it, which Young-il felt. He looked down at me, his hand letting go of my wrist but finding its way on my shoulder instead, drawing circles on it to reassure me.. which weirdly helped.

„When the game starts, the platform will spin. Shortly after, a number will be called out. You must then form a group that matches the number, enter one of the surrounding rooms and lock the door within 30 seconds, or be eliminated.“ We all slowly went to the platform, i kept holding onto Young-il somehow, only his presence already kept me safe..

„I repeat,“ I completely blended the creepy robot voice out as i was looking up at Young-il, captivated by his beauty. Of course he isn’t stupid, he noticed i was staring, but he enjoyed the moment just like me.

The other‘s talked, but i stayed quiet, they tried to make a planning what to do when certain numbers got called out. I held onto Young-il‘s arm, just listening closely to the others. After around 2 minutes, the platform suddenly started moving and music started playing. I accidently stumble at the sudden movement, but Young-il catched me with his strong arms.. „Are you okay?“ I just nodded.

I felt uneasy, this didn’t feel right. The song made me feel even more uncomfortable. Young-il noticed, he tried his best to help me, which did. His presence already made me feel better. Suddenly after some time, it stopped again. Everyone stumbled again.

„TEN“

I looked at Young-il, and then at Gi-hun. We were 5.. we needed 5 more. Hyun-ju came to us, „are you guys 5?!“ she quickly asked, the pressure in her voice was bearable. „We‘re 4! we just need one more!“

Gi-hun nodded, he looked out for someone, and noticed Jun-hee, it was the pregnant girl. She was nice earlier to me. He looked over to Hyun-ju who knew what he was symbolizing. 8 of us already went to the room quickly, Hyun-ju took Jun-hee‘s hand and guided her quickly but also gentle to us, after all she was pregnant.

We had 15 seconds left and Hyun-ju quickly closed the door, I was in a corner next to Young-il. He squeezed my hand to calm me down. He leaned down, whispering in my ear.

„We are ten, don’t worry. I‘ll protect you, yeah?“ His voice was low and raspy, i had to keep my composure and nodded. „Thank you Sir.“

He chuckled again, his breath touching my neck. „Drop the sir, yeah?“ I just nodded as i felt another blush creep up my face.

The timer was already over. We could hear gunshots, but Young-il covered my ears. He kept his promise, keeping me safe.

„The following Players were eliminated: Player 013, 043, 049, 054, 060..“ Our room was quiet, Gi-hun was looking throught the little slit of the door, watching the people getting taken away.

The atmosphere was tensed, everyone was breathing heavily. Yet Young-il was calm as always, drawing circles on me again, but this time, on the inside of my arm. Shortly after, out doors were unlocked, and we slowly went out. I almost slipped from the blood on they floor, but luckily Young-il kept me in his arms.

And everything repeated, the platform started spinning and the music went on. This time i didn’t stumble, as it was as unexpected as last time. And soon after, it stopped again.

„FOUR“

we all looked at each other in panic, we were 5, shit.. Young-il look at Gi-hun before pushing me into his arms. „Take care of her, and go, Now!“ He yelled, Gi-hun catched me quickly, but i tried to get away from his grip. „Young-il!“ I screamed out, but i couldn’t run after him. Gi-hun just let out a quick „don’t worry“ and ran with me in his hand to a free door. Dae-ho quickly closed it after we got in. I was rushing to look through the slit, but i couldn’t find him.. Shit, where was he???, Gi-hun tried to pull me away, but i just hit his hand away.

5 seconds later the door locked. I flinched at the gunshots, but i couldn‘t care less, all i cared for in the moment was Young-il.

The creepy voice called out who was eliminated again, but i couldn’t focus on it, i tried to see if Young-il was out there.. he can’t die, what would i do without him?

The doors unlocked, i slowly opened it, my hands shaking. Dae-ho took my shoulders, he tried to help me calm down. But it didn‘t, it wasnt the same touch Young-il had.. it didnt feel right. We slowly walked to the platform.

I couldn’t spot him, my heart sinking, before i felt Dae-ho being pushed away from me. I got hugged from behind. I immediately recognized Young-il‘s strong arms around me. Gi-hun spoke up, „Young-il! You made it“. You could tell he was happy to see him too, but he just nodded and gave him a smile, before whispering into my eyes.

„I told you i will survive and protect you at all cost, Baby.“ This made something with me, he smirked to himself, i could sense that. He knows what he did to me. Letting go of me he talked to the others again. I just stood next to them, listening closely.

This game went on quite for some time now, and slowly i started to feel exhausted. I knew that as soon as we would be back at the dorm, i would take a big nap. This was the last round, the music was going on and for a moment everything felt good.

„The next number will be two,“ Young-il said, i looked up to him. „What do you mean?“ I asked, we were 5, what if one of us doesn’t find a partner? „We are 126 players left, there are 50 doors, when the number will be 2, it can only hold 100 people.“

It made sense, it would bring out a fight to whom will get a room, and for sure 26 of them won’t. „It makes sense, I think so too.“ Gi-hun agreed with him, „Me and Y/N will go together,“ Young-il said, taking my hands in his, our Fingers intertwined. It made me look down. My heart skipping a beat. „Jung-bae, go with Dae-ho.. I‘ll find someone.“ Gi-hun said, Jung-bae wanted to say something against it, but suddenly the platform stopped

„TWO“

Jung-bae couldn’t do anything and had to take Dae-ho with him Gi-hun went to search for a partner, and Young-il took me to a room. On the way there, a guy pushed me down and tried to get into the room me and Young-il chose. You could see the rage in his eyes. He took the guy by his collar, pushing him away. He took my hand and helped me up quickly. We made it into the room, 18 seconds left. I exhaled but stopped. We heard another guy in here, shaky breath.

„OUT!“ Young-il yelled angry, the guy shook his head. „I was here first!“ he shouted back, pressing himself into the corner. „I said, go. out.“ His eyes were sharp, his voice cold and loud.

„Push her out, Girls are weak anywa-” he couldn’t finish his sentence, before Young-il went behind him. He choked him, slowly sliding down the wall as he cut off his breathing way. The guy was struggling. But the most intimidating about this was the way he looked at me while he did so.

„Ten“

„Nine“

„Eight“

„Seven“

„Six“

„Five“

„Four“

„three“

Suddenly, Young-il turned his head, which let out a loud ‚CRACK‘ the door locked a second after he died. Young-il stood up, slowly walking to me, not braking the eye contact. He trapped me at the wall, his arms on each of my sides, keeping me from moving.

He pressed his lips sharp onto mine, i melted at the touch, but at the same time, i didn’t. Trembling beneath him. My hands wandered to his neck before i closed my eyes and eventually gave in, kissing him back. The kiss quickly turned into a tounge kiss, the Gunshots were completely ignored. He backed away, before moving to my neck, kissing it, biting on it, I let myself relax, whimpering at his touch. He let go, making my groan a little, he smirked to himself. His mouth went to my ear, he whispered into it, before biting my earlobe a little.

„You won’t tell anyone yeah? This will be our little secret, Darling.“

Okay i might make a second part out of this, because i‘m to lazy to write more at the moment, might even publish it tomorrow👀 stay tuned my loves!!! If you want to be tagged in the second part, comment below!

[dollfacefantasy]

kenny. omg. hear me out. being rick’s stress relief during the alexandria arc of s5 😵‍💫 like omg yeah he’s clean shaven now but can’t go two days w/o fighting w someone from alexandria, got restrained by michonne n everything… figures he needs smth else to keep the group in alexandria’s good graces and settles on smth along the lines of free use w you!! can’t be too shitty of a day if you get fucked into the mattress by the end of it ♡

hnghhh em omg i love you so bad. ur genius for this. i put a little backstory because i'm physically incapable of not being longwinded lol <3

rick grimes x fem!reader

rick needs a little stress relief with all the new responsiblities at alexandria

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, age gap (early 20s/late 30s)

You always thought stress was supposed to decrease someone’s sex drive, but now that you were getting fucked dumb every single night, you were sure that wasn’t true.

Rick had to be the most wound up person you’d ever known, constantly up in arms about something. Ever since he and his group arrived at your once peaceful community, there’d been nothing but conflict. At best it was petty drama, at worst guns were drawn and brains were about to be splattered all over the pavement.

The worst it got was that day you saw him in the middle of the street hunched over the doctor like a rabid dog. You’d stayed back, keeping your distance from him as he waved his gun around and rambled on about control. Crimson blood dripped from his hairline all over his face. You couldn’t tell whether it belonged to him or the incapacitated man beneath him.

You’d never seen anyone like him. Living in Alexandria since the start of the outbreak meant you were pretty sheltered. The people here rarely raised their voices let alone tackled each other through windows. He looked like the physical manifestation of what everyone warned you life outside the walls was like.

It was scary, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

Needless to say, you were pretty eager to offer yourself up to take the position watching him while the others decided what to do going forward.

You entered the room while he was still asleep. He was as peaceful as you’d ever seen him. Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, you looked at him almost as if he was encased in glass, a specimen for your examination. His skin still had the scarlet tint of blood. His brown curls lie stuck between his temple and the ratty old pillow on the bed.

It startles you a bit when his eyes flutter open and connect with yours. Awkwardness sludges through your veins, but he looks you over like it’s nothing. You know you’re one of the least threatening people he’s come across in the new world. 

“You’re the one they got babysitting me, huh?” he rasps.

“I guess so,” you respond with more timidness than you would like.

His tongue slides out between his lips and licks the chapped skin while he continues to stare you down. It’s hard not to squirm in your seat, to shift your thighs against one another and make your desire known. Before you have a chance to think through your course of action though, he speaks again.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, his tone not looking to provoke a reaction but simultaneously wanting you to recognize your inferiority.

You shrug. He wasn’t gonna get the satisfaction. Not yet anyways.

“Are you scared of me?” he continues.

“No,” you answer.

“Good,” is all he says in response.

That was the last thing he said to you that day, but you could still hear the simple syllable in your mind. He might have been done talking to you. You weren’t through with him though. Under the guise of being assigned to watch him, you continued to linger around him as he went about his tasks in the community.

You tended to follow him around like a puppy. You were curious about him, watching him with inquisitive eyes, peeking over his shoulder as he cleaned his gun or tuned his transceiver. Your gazes were adoring too. It was obvious that you admired the way he could take control of a room with his words, how his people looked to him with reverence when he spoke.

He intoxicated you. In a world lacking things to do, observing Rick became a hobby for you.

He noticed of course, but he couldn’t say he minded. At least someone in this fucking place had an interest in survival and saw the value in listening to him. Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were pretty cute. He didn’t mind your company, didn’t mind teaching you things here and there. In his eyes, you were the least annoying out of all the new people here.

You both were on watch when you got a little promotion from least annoying. The two of you were sitting on the platform attached to the wall. It was night. Neither of you could sleep. Instead of telling you bits and pieces of the nightmares that kept sleep from him, he decided to teach you how to put a scope on a rifle. Nodding along to each thing he says, you watch his fingers and take note of every little thing he does. He gives you a few tries with it, but you’re still struggling to get the thing attached.

That’s when he looks at you, his expression unchanging, and pats his lap.

“C’mere.”

It’s out of your control really. You don’t even have a second to think about it before your legs have pushed you across the platform to the spot he beckoned you. With your back against his chest, his arms encase you and come around front to show you up close how to fasten the scope. When he’s done, he detaches it and makes you try.

His hands slide down your arms, lingering on the skin for longer than needed. They trail down to your sides then your hips. You bite your lip and try to focus on the task he wants you to perform rather than his touch. But then he leans forward to watch your hands work. His chin hovers above your shoulder. You can hear his breaths next to your ear. Once you’ve got it, you can essentially picture his subtle smirk in your mind.

“Good girl,” he croons teasingly.

You turn your head slightly, looking at him with your wide, innocent eyes. He chuckles and reaches up to stroke your cheek. Neither of you know what you’re really doing but one thing leads to another and you’re kissing. Then he’s got his hand up your shirt, groping your tits. It all comes to head and ends up with you straddling him, sinking down on his cock and burying your head in his shoulder.

Biting the fabric of his t-shirt to keep quiet, you begin to rise and fall. It felt so good as if it was what your body had been aching for. You felt the most alive you ever had in this shitty new world, and if the way he was gripping your hips and returning your thrusts were any indication, Rick felt the same way.

You both grunt and moan quietly as your bodies rut together with a primal desire for satisfaction. His lips glide over your collarbone and up your neck to the spot behind your ear. You let out a sharp whine which causes him to grin.

“Need you to be quiet, sweetheart,” he chides, “Don’t want to wake any of the others, do you?”

You’re quick to shake your head and cover your mouth with your palm, but you don’t stop bouncing. You needed him deep, rearranging your insides to a perfect mold for him.

“Then again,” he breathes, “They could stand to learn a thing or two from you. So obedient, eager to please…”

His words trail off as he helps you ride him. You’re so tight and warm, and for the first time since he set foot through those walls, his mind feels clear. He doesn’t hear the constant jabbering for his attention. His head doesn’t throb with the sensation of being pulled in five different directions. It’s like each thrust into your heat clears away a worry. By the time he cums, he feels drained of all his stress.

He needed more of that feeling. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was the start of a routine for the two of you. Everyday at least once, you were getting fucked till you were a drooling, dazed mess. And sometimes it was more than once. Sometimes he had you on your knees in the armory in the afternoon or pulled you into a storage closet on a morning supply run.

He had fifteen years on you, but most of the time he was the one leaving you exhausted.

And today had been a particularly bad day for Rick. Everything that could go wrong did. Alexandria was running low on a collection of different things, walkers were gathering at the East wall, one of the gate’s locks was rusting, a sprinkler broke, and on top of everything, he had to deal with everyone’s constant bitching.

The only thing that kept him from losing his shit was the thought of you laid in his bed at night waiting for him, batting your long eyelashes over those pretty doe eyes as you sat there in nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of panties. The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.

He grits his teeth and dashes all across the community to try and get everything solved by sundown. The workload keeps him busy which fortunately makes the time go by faster. He also tries his best to keep his cool with people. There was no use starting petty conflicts when he had something much nicer to screw with now.

As soon as everyone’s headed off to bed and all the perimeters have been checked, he can’t get home fast enough. He’s quiet coming in. He didn’t wanna wake anyone. If someone got in his way now, he’d flip his lid worse than any of them had ever seen.

He’s up the stairs in seconds, taking them two at a time. Whisking the bedroom door open, a deep sigh seeps from his lungs as he sees his daydreams become realities of the night. Your pretty legs are on display for him as you lounge in the bed reading a book. He crosses the room and grabs you by the ankle to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. You already know what time it is and feel a dull tingle in the pit of your belly.

“Stressful day?” you ask as you finish the page you were on.

“Is the sky still blue?” he grumbles as he presses a kiss to your calf then another further up against your knee.

You smile at the quip, placing the book on the nightstand just in time as he flips you over onto your stomach. He climbs on top of you, squeezing your waist and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Those people don’t even know how much they should be thanking you, baby,” he mumbles, “They don’t even know how many times a day you save their asses.”

You squirm a little beneath him as his fingers hook around your panties and tug them down. The sound of his zipper follows and it’s no time before you feel the weight of his dick against you.

“Needed you so bad all day,” he says.

“I needed you too,” you whimper as you feel slick gathering between your thighs.

He nips at your earlobe and rubs his hands up under his shirt you have on to tease the sides of your breasts.

“S’cute, honey,” he whispers, “Thinking about me while you did your little chores, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whine as he starts to line himself up and slot himself in the correct position.

It was such a familiar feeling, but each time it still made a chill run through you. Your insides ached with the pleasure that came from being filled up by him.

“Perfect girl. That’s just the way it should be,” he mutters.

He wastes no time before he starts thrusting. It only takes a couple before he starts groaning too. On nights like these, he was in no mood to take his time or savor the moment.

“So tight for me, Christ,” he chokes out, “There’s nothing like you.”

You moan softly too, putting your head down to muffle your sounds with the blanket. His hand rests around your neck for leverage as he fucks into you faster.

“That’s right, pretty baby. You’re so good for me. Givin’ me what I need. You’re the only one who can,” he grunts.

He snaps his hips harder, trying to find the limit of how hard he could go without being too loud or smacking the headboard into the wall. You claw at the ratty blankets on the bed as your toes curl. Your head turns to the side a little to peek up at him, and his eyes roll back.

“Everyone’s always fucking looking to me for something. No one can look at me like you can though. Those gorgeous eyes, all glossy for me. Not a thought behind ‘em right now,” he pants.

You nod weakly while digging your teeth into your lip again. It was getting harder to suppress the noises with the blanket alone.

“Rick…” you whimper, “Oh fuck, Rick.”

You gasp as he starts hitting the perfect spot. His stiff cock slips effortlessly in and out of you over and over and brushes that nook each time.

“Mhm. You’re the only one I wanna hear calling my name. Everyone here’s always whining for me, bitching for something. Not my girl though. The only time I hear you whining is when I’m balls deep, fucking you like you deserve,” he whispers.

You nod against the mattress. Your body rocks with the momentum of each thrust. Every stroke was working you closer to the edge, and Rick could feel his own impending as well.

Both his hands slide down to your hips to grip them hard. He keeps grinding and rolling his hips into you.

“Give it to me, princess. Lemme feel it. Gotta get my fix,” he says just as you start to tense up and jerk around below him.

You cum with a high moan into the plush fabric beneath you. Your body trembles and twitches as it handles the rush of euphoria. He keeps fucking you through it. His own noises start getting needier, closer to whimpers than groans. He grunts for a second as he finally feels release. He pulls out quickly and lets it spurt all over your ass. He’d so much rather do it inside, but he really didn’t need something else to worry about nine months from now.

With his release, the both of you are able to settle down for the night. He rolls off of you and quickly gets you cleaned up, so he can crawl into bed and hold you against his chest. The second most soothing thing to your pussy was the warmth of your body against him.

“So good for me, sweetheart. Always make things so good for me,” he sighs and lazily kisses your head, ready to drift off with the comfort of knowing this little scene would repeat itself tomorrow.