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rafayelxsylusho · 3 months ago

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How do the LADS men react when they catch you reading smut. 🫣 Part 2

TW: Smut

Vote for the next LI at the end of the story ❤️

Part 1 (Xavier)

Part 3 (Sylus)

Part 4 (Zayne)

Part 5 (Rafayel)

You're curled up on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, your phone screen illuminating your face in the early morning darkness.

The rain patters against the window, a soothing soundtrack to your quiet start of the day. You scroll through your social media feed, yawning as you take a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. That's when you see it, a video that catches your eye. "Steamy Short Story: Colonel's Obsession" reads the caption beneath a grainy, black and white image of a handsome man in a uniform.

Intrigued, you press play, leaning back against the cushions as the video begins. The narrator speaks in a low, breathy tone, setting the scene. As you listen, your mind drifts to Caleb. Your colonel. He had mentioned he wouldn't be able to see you for a week, trouble brewing in the far space fleet demanding his attention. The narrator's words paint a vivid picture of a man consumed by his feelings, a man you recognize in Caleb. The story is intense, raw, and achingly familiar.

As you click the link on the video the story pops up on your screen, the title "Colonel's Obsession". You take another sip of your coffee, the mug warming your hands as you settle in to read, eager to lose yourself in the story.

You read on, your pulse quickening as the narrative grows more intense.

"Colonel," she purrs"I need you. I need to feel you inside me." She drops to her knees, her hands sliding down his body until she reaches the bulge in his pants. She cups him through the fabric, stroking his hardening length as she looks up at him with hooded eyes.

Without warning, she unzips his pants and frees his cock. It springs forth, long, hard and thick. She wraps her hand around it, pumping it slowly as she leans in and drags her tongue along the underside. He groans, fisting a hand in her hair as she takes him into her mouth.

You feel a sudden, intense surge of desire as you picture yourself in her place, kneeling before Caleb in his uniform. You imagine the fabric of his pants bunched around his ankles as you take him into your mouth, tasting the essence of the man you love. The thought alone makes your core throb with need.

Lost in the fantasy, you squirm on the couch, your free hand sliding beneath your robe to caress your inner thigh. Your mind races with the dirty, delicious images of you pleasuring Caleb in his uniform, the fabric scratching against your bare skin as you worship his cock with your mouth. You've never indulged in such a naughty daydream before, but the idea of Caleb, hard and wanting, his uniform still on as you suck him off is too tantalizing to ignore.

You nearly drop your phone in surprise as it rings loudly in your hand. You glance at the screen, seeing your coworker's name flashing urgently. Taking a deep, calming breath, you try to compose yourself before answering.

"H-hello?" you stammer, hoping they don't detect the breathless state you're in. Your heart races as you listen to your coworker's voice on the other end of the line.

"Okay, sounds good," you say, wrapping up the call as quickly as possible. As soon as you hang up, you toss your phone aside and bury your face in your hands, a soft moan escaping your lips. You're already counting down the days until you can see Caleb again.

For now, you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to ignore the way your body burns with need.

You glance at the story, realizing there's still half of it left. Your curiosity piqued, you quickly tap the 'Download' button to save the file for later reading and set your phone aside as you take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste. You shake your head, clearing your lustful thoughts, and decide it's time to start your day properly.

Rising from the couch, you make your way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. You shrug off your robe and nightgown, letting them pool on the floor as you step into the warmth of the shower.

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You sit in front of your computer, uploading documents you needed to share with the rest of your team.

Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you. The story, the incredibly erotic tale that has set your body ablaze with desire, is now sitting in the shared folder on your phone that you and Caleb use for important documents and information. The same folder where you keep your joint grocery lists, your travel itineraries, and the occasional sweet note to each other.

A blush creeps up your neck as you imagine Caleb stumbling upon the story, his eyebrows raising in surprise before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

But then, a sudden pang of worry hits you. What if Caleb misunderstands? What if he thinks you're interested in other men in uniform, that you're lusting after faceless, nameless strangers? Your heart races as panic starts to set in.

You quickly tap the delete button on your phone, watching with relief as the story disappears from your screen. The shared folder is now free of the scandalous tale, no trace of it left behind.

You let out a shaky sigh, your heart gradually slowing its frantic pace. "He's probably been busy all day," you murmur to yourself, trying to rationalize the situation. "If Caleb had seen it, he would have definitely called by now."

The thought brings a small smile to your face. Caleb has always been so eager and open about his desire for you, his lust never shy about making itself known. He would have been unable to resist the temptation to tease you mercilessly about it, to paint a vivid picture of all the naughty things he wanted to do to you based on the story.

"Focus," you scold yourself, turning your attention back to the paperwork across your desk. You take a deep, calming breath and will yourself to concentrate on the tasks at hand. The rest of the day passes in a blur of meetings and deadlines, your mind only half-focused on your work.

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You open your front door, your arms loaded with grocery bags as you step into your dark apartment. The apartment is quiet, the only sound is the rustling of the bags as you unpack their contents. You mumble to yourself in the dim light of the kitchen, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"I should have just moved the file to a different folder," you whisper, placing a jar of pasta sauce on the shelf. "Now I won't know what happens in the other half of the story"

As you finish putting away the last of the groceries, you pick up your phone. Your fingers hover over Caleb's contact information for a moment before you press the call button, bringing the phone to your ear.

You nearly drop your phone in shock as you hear the loud, familiar ringtone echo through your darkened living room. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you spin around to see a large figure sitting in the shadows.

"Caleb!" you gasp, clutching your chest. "You scared me half to death! What are you doing here, sitting in the dark like that? I..I thought you were at work."

You quickly hit the end call button on your phone, the ringing ceasing abruptly. Your eyes adjust to the dim light, making out Caleb's silhouette on the couch. He's sitting back, his tall frame taking up most of the space, his broad shoulders and muscular build unmistakable.

"You know Princess," his voice is low and filled with a hunger that makes your core clench. "If you wanted to turn me on, all you had to do was call. You didn't need to send me a whole story of your fantasies."

You hear the rustling of fabric as he leans forward, his tall frame unfolding from the couch. The moonlight from the window illuminates his handsome face, his dark eyes glinting with desire.

"Though I must say," he continues, "it was quite the treat to read all about what's been on your pretty little mind. Such naughty thoughts, pip-squeak. I had no idea you had such a dirty imagination."

Your cheeks burn with a fierce blush as you stand there, temporarily rooted to the spot by surprise and mortification. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. Instead, you hear the sound of Caleb's chuckle echoing through the room.

"Caleb, I... I didn't mean for you to see that," you stammer out, finally finding your voice. "I thought I had deleted it. I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to think..."

"Colonel"

"What?" You ask

"It's Colonel Caleb not just Caleb"

The use of his title sends a shiver down your spine, the authority in his voice unmistakable.

You take a tentative step towards him, then another, until you're standing before him in the dark room. The moonlight filtering through the window casts sharp shadows across his features, making him look even more imposing and powerful than usual.

"Forgive me, Colonel," you murmur, your eyes downcast. "I didn't mean to send such an... inappropriate story. It was a foolish mistake on my part."

Caleb reaches for the lamp beside him and turns it on, as the soft glow of the lamp illuminates the room you can't help but gasp at the sight before you. Caleb, no, Colonel Caleb, sits tall and imposing in your couch, his uniform as crisp and pressed as always. But it's the state of his uniform pants that draws your gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

His zipper is down, the metal teeth glinting in the warm lamplight. And there, straining against the fabric of his boxers, is the clear outline of his hard, proud cock. It looks massive, the shape of the swollen head and thick shaft unmistakable even through the thin material.

You feel your mouth go dry at the sight, a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. Your breasts grow heavy, nipples pebbling beneath your shirt.

"Colonel," you breathe out, your voice husky with sudden desire. "You're... you're not wearing your pants properly."

The knowledge that you've affected him so deeply, that your naughty little story was enough to make the formidable Colonel lose control, sends a thrill of pure lust racing down your spine.

"Did the story do that to you, Colonel?" you ask softly, a coy smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Did it make you this... excited?" Your voice is full of innocent teasing

"Show some respect to the far space fleet colonel and kneel"

You quickly lower yourself to your knees before him, the plush carpet brushing against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself at eye level with the sizeable bulge straining against his boxers. And there, at the tip of his erection, you spot a damp spot on his boxers. Your mind races at the realization that it's his precum, proof of how aroused that story has made him. The sight sends a fresh gush of wetness flooding your panties, your core clenching with need.

"Forgive me, Colonel," you breathe out, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"Tell me how I can serve you, Colonel," you ask softly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes even as a shy smile curves your lips. "How can I make amends for my previous transgression?"

You watch with bated breath as Caleb reaches down, his large, gloved hands tug down his pants and boxers down to his knees. His cock springs free, long, thick and hard, the swollen head an angry red, it bobs slightly as it's released from its confines, drawing your gaze like a magnet. The sheer size of him makes your mouth water.

In a flash, you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lap at the pearly beads of precum glistening at the swollen tip of his cock. The salty-sweet essence explodes on your tongue. Before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you take the head of his cock into the warmth of your mouth.

"Ahhh..." Caleb groans, his deep voice rumbling through the room as your mouth envelops him. His gloved hand comes down to tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly as he guides your head, urging you to take more of him. "That's it, taste what you do to me."

Your lips stretch obscenely around his thick girth as you slowly sink down, taking inch after throbbing inch of his impressive length into the heat of your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue, the pulsing heat of his flesh, the musky scent of his arousal it's all so overwhelmingly erotic.

As you start to take more of his length down your throat, bobbing your head and relaxing your muscles to accommodate him, his grip on your hair suddenly tightens. He tugs sharply, pulling your face off his slick cock with a swift, sharp movement. A string of saliva stretches from your bottom lip to the swollen head before breaking and splattering on your chin.

"Who told you to deepthroat me?" Caleb growls. His eyes flash with a mix of lust and annoyance as he holds your head still, forcing you to look up at him. "You don't get to take charge like that. I'm in control here."

"Apologize, Y/N," he orders, his thumb wiping away the saliva and smearing it across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. "Apologize for being so greedy with your mouth. For forgetting your place."

You part your lips, allowing Caleb's gloved thumb to slip further into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the digit, tasting the leather as you suck it gently. Your teeth carefully grasp the edge of the glove and tug, slowly peeling it off his thumb and down his hand until it falls to the floor with a soft thud.

"Sorry, Colonel," you whisper but before the apology can hang in the air for too long, you wrap your lips around his thumb once more, suckling on the bare digit as you did his cock moments before.

Your small pink tongue swirls around the pad of his thumb, lapping at the smooth skin, tracing the lines and ridges. You take it deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around the intrusion as you gaze up at him with an almost challenging glint in your eye. The glint is a silent dare, a test of his control and dominance, as if to say, 'I may have overstepped, but I'm not afraid to push your limits.'

Your cheeks hollow slightly as you suckle his thumb, your free hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing and stroking the thick shaft in a slow, teasing rhythm. You know it's a risk, touching him without permission, but you can't resist the chance to feel him pulsing in your hand, to remind yourself of how much you've affected him.

With an almost feral growl, he reaches down and hooks his hands under your armpits. In one powerful movement, he hauls you up off your knees and positions you to straddle his hips. Your soaked panties are suddenly pressed against the throbbing heat of his naked cock as he sits back down on the couch, settling you in his lap. The damp fabric creates a delicious friction against your folds, and you can't help but gasp at the sudden contact.

"The uniform stays on," he states firmly.

"Yes please" you whisper

An almost cruel smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with a wicked amusement that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Oh no, I think you misunderstand, princess," he murmurs "I meant to say, your uniform stays on. Mine, well..." His hands slide down to grip your ass, squeezing the supple globes as he grinds his erection against your soaked panties with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"My uniform is going to stay on anyway" he continues, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've always wanted to fuck you in your hunter uniform," he confesses, his words sending a dark thrill through you.

As he speaks those filthy words, his hands are already moving under your skirt, yanking your panties to the side with a rough, impatient tug. Before you can respond or react, he's thrusting forward, the thick head of his cock pushing past your folds and burying itself deep inside you.

"Ahhh, fuck!" Caleb groans, his head falling back as he hilts himself fully inside you. He stretches and fills you completely, your walls clenching down around his girth, trying desperately to adjust to the sudden, intense intrusion. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, back arching, his heavy balls pressing against your ass.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Caleb rasps, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks, holding you in place as he begins to move.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, revealing a glint of teeth. He leans in closer, until his lips are a mere hair's breadth from yours "You want to know the other half of the story? I'll show you exactly what the rest of the story is about"

His arms wrap around your waist, crushing you against the wall of his chest as he pistons his hips at a breathtaking pace. Each forceful thrust drives you upwards along the length of his rigid shaft, the thick head kissing your cervix before sliding back out, only to plunge in again. His breathing grows heavier, his exhales mingling with your shorter, sharper intakes as he chases his pleasure.

He doesn't kiss you, but rather captures each of your needful breaths on his lips, inhaling them as if to consume you, to make you a part of him. His gaze bores into you, those piercing violet eyes burning with hunger and dark intent. In this moment, you feel utterly owned, claimed in the most carnal way imaginable. The rest of the world falls away until there is only the slap of flesh against flesh, the creaking of the couch beneath you, and the pounding of two hearts beating in sync.

Caleb's grip on you tightens, his fingers sinking into soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow. He grinds his pelvis against yours with each upward surge, making sure to hit that sensitive spot deep inside you. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, pushing you rapidly towards the precipice of ecstasy.

"Let... go."

It's not a request, but a direct order, his deep voice ringing with the unshakable confidence and dominance of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question. His grip moves to your hips, holding you in place as he slams into you, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body.

Your body surrenders to Caleb's dominant command, your walls clamping down around his length as the coil of tension within you snaps. A cry tears from your throat as your climax crashes over you, wave after wave of electrifying ecstasy radiating out from your core. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, your hips bucking erratically against his as you ride out the intense, toe curling pleasure.

He doesn't let up his relentless pace, continuing to drive into your spasming heat, pushing you to take every last inch of him as your orgasm seems to go on and on.

"That's it," he grunts "Fuck, you're squeezing me so fucking tight. You were made for this."

With a last few erratic, powerful thrusts, Caleb hilts himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he finds his own climax.

You watch, transfixed, as Caleb's handsome face contorts with the raw ecstasy of his release. His eyes squeeze shut,his dark lashes fluttering against his skin as a groan rumbles up from his chest. The tendons of his neck strain, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fights to maintain some semblance of control, even as his hips jerk and stutter erratically. A single, bead of sweat trickles down the pronounced line of his throat, catching on the silver glint of his dog tag charm.

As the waves of your shared ecstasy begin to subside, a breathless, euphoric laugh bubbles up from your chest. The sound is music to Caleb's ears, a beautiful melody that makes his heart swell with satisfaction. He feels your walls fluttering around his softening length, and a deep, rumbling chuckle escapes him.

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischievous light as a grin spreads across his handsome face. He leans in closer and whispers:

"Ready for round two, my insatiable little hunter?"

Notes: Y/N's uniform in this story is like Tara's.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads smut #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lads x you #lnds x you #love and deepspace reader #lads caleb #caleb x you #caleb smut #caleb x reader #caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #caleb lads #caleb lnds

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gyuuberryy · 4 months ago

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brain empty, just you !

loser!txt's reaction to you getting them flustered

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: suggestive content!, making out, kissing, choking(the good kind heh), whiny!txt, stuttering, swearing, down bad!txt

note: finally writing for txt after like 2 years. i did a similar one for enha so naturally i had to do it for txt because they're soo silly. i also had to finish writing this after looking at beomgyu's very motivating recent buff pics omg. enjoy reading!

word count: 3.8k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

YEONJUN

yeonjun tries so hard to play it cool as your boyfriend—all confidence and swagger—but the moment you so much as hold his hand for too long, he’s hiding his face in your shoulder, whining about how "you're trying to kill me!" he’s the type to shamelessly beg for your attention one second, then get insanely flustered when you actually give it to him. he’ll send you selfies captioned "thinking about you, babe ;)" and then shrivel up and die if you call him cute.

and now, as he sits beside you on his couch, watching some random movie, he’s completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring at him for the past ten minutes. he’s scrolling on his phone, glasses slipping down his nose, occasionally mumbling a reaction to whatever’s on screen. his bare face looks so pretty in the dim glow of the television, lips slightly parted, his brows furrowing every now and then.

he looks kissable.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

you blink, snapped out of your trance. yeonjun turns to you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"like what?" you ask, tilting your head.

"like you're about to bully me."

you let out a soft hum. "i was just thinking."

he snorts. "that’s never good."

you ignore him. "you’re not a very good kisser.".

his entire body goes stiff, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. his phone slips from his grip, bouncing onto his lap, and he blinks at you in pure devastation.

"huh?" he finally croaks out, voice cracking horribly.

you shrug. "i mean, you're just kinda… meh. nothing special."

yeonjun’s jaw drops. he presses a dramatic hand to his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. "EXCUSE ME?!"

you barely hold in your laugh at his utterly betrayed expression. "i dunno, babe. you just kinda suck."

"I SUCK?! i—when? why didn’t you say anything before" he whines, eyes wide with disbelief.

you hum, inspecting your nails. "I was being nice."

yeonjun gasps, clutching his chest like a 19th-century widow. his ears are red. "YOU WERE BEING NICE?! BABY, MY EGO—HELLO?!"

before he can spiral into a full-blown meltdown, you reach up, gently plucking his glasses off his face.

his words die in his throat.

"which is why you need more practice," you murmur.

his breath hitches.

then, before he can so much as process what’s happening, your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him in as your lips crash against his.

yeonjun whimpers.

he goes boneless instantly, melting into you like putty. his plush lips part against yours, kissing you back so desperately, so messily, it’s obvious he’s completely lost in it. your fingers tangle deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a whine—sends heat rushing through you.

it’s a mess. his lips move against yours with a feverish hunger, hands gripping your waist as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. he’s so eager, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you shiver.

when you finally pull away, only because you need air, yeonjun chases your lips with a needy whine, trying to pull you back in.

but then, against your lips, he mumbles in the saddest, most pathetic voice:

"do you really think I’m a bad kisser?"

you lose it.

a laugh bubbles out of you, and you cup his face, pressing a soft peck to his nose. his cheeks are burning, his brows furrowed in genuine distress.

"i was just messing with you, baby," you giggle, pecking his lips again. "i just needed an excuse to kiss you. I literally can’t get enough of you."

yeonjun blinks. once. twice.

then he groans, dramatically collapsing onto your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a clingy koala. "you’re SO mean."

you laugh, rubbing his back. "you love me."

"unfortunately," he grumbles, muffled against your neck.

you smirk. "and you’re a great kisser, by the way."

he peeks up at you, still red-faced, before stealing another quick kiss—like he needs to make up for lost time. and despite his flustered state, you know he’s already planning ways to get back at you… if he ever stops blushing long enough to think straight.

SOOBIN

for someone so tall and broad, soobin is an absolute baby when it comes to you. the man stutters every time you compliment him, avoids eye contact when you so much as hold his hand, and malfunctions if you get even a little bit flirty. he physically cannot handle any form of teasing—his ears turn red, his hands get clammy, and he lets out those pathetic little whimpers whenever you catch him off guard.

right now, though, soobin is doing so well pretending to be normal.

you two are in his kitchen, baking together, and he’s very focused on whisking the brownie batter. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted, his strong arms flexing with every precise movement. the sight of his broad shoulders tapering into his slim waist is so unfair. the way his biceps subtly shift under his oversized t-shirt?—it’s all so unfairly attractive. he’s doing absolutely nothing and yet, somehow, he’s driving you insane.

you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and burying your face into his back. soobin stiffens. like, completely freezes. you swear you can hear his heart pounding from this position.

then—

"b-babe?" he croaks out, voice cracking violently.

you giggle, tightening your hold around him. "mhm?"

"w-what are you—" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you press a soft kiss against his nape. his breath shudders. you grin against his skin, pressing another kiss, then another, trailing them slowly up to his jaw. you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your touch, his grip on the whisk turning bone-white.

"b-baby, i—"

you don’t let him finish. instead, you suck gently on the soft skin just beneath his ear.

soobin lets out a broken whimper. his whole body shudders, and you swear he whines when you lick over the spot before sucking again, harder this time. his free hand grips the counter for dear life as if that’ll stop his knees from giving out.

"s-stop," he begs, voice so weak, so pathetic.

you don’t stop. you drag your lips across his skin, finding a new spot to bite down on, leaving another mark, and—

"OH SHIT!"

you pull back, startled, just in time to see soobin staring in absolute horror at the bowl in front of him. he’s gripping a salt container. and he just dumped a quarter of it into the brownie batter.

there’s a moment of dead silence.

then—

"YOU DISTRACTED ME!" soobin wails, turning to face you with the saddest pout you’ve ever seen.

you burst out laughing.

"soobin!" you gasp, holding your stomach. "oh my god, you—oh my god—!"

"this is NOT funny!" he cries, stomping his foot like an actual child. "those were gonna be SO GOOD!"

"they still can be!" you tease, wiping a tear from your eye. "just... y'know, if you wanna die of sodium overdose."

soobin groans, covering his face in shame. "i hate you."

you smirk, stepping closer. "no, you don’t."

"I DO."

"no, you don't."

"i dooooo—"

he cuts himself off mid-whine. because suddenly, he’s hit with an idea.

a horrible idea.

and you see it in his eyes before it even happens.

in the blink of an eye, soobin spins around, trapping you against the counter. his arms cage you in, his broad frame looming over you, and he leans in all slow and deliberate, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing.

"now look what you’ve done, baby," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

oh.

oh, he thinks he’s being hot.

the problem is—he looks more adorable than hot, because his ears are bright red, his eyes keep darting to your lips like he doesn’t know where else to look, and the way he’s breathing just the tiniest bit too fast gives away how insanely nervous he is.

then he licks his lips.

(or at least, he tries to.)

because the second his tongue peeks out, he accidentally bites it instead, letting out a pathetic little "ow."

you stare at him.

soobin freezes.

the tension shatters.

then you die laughing, "you—YOU TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND THEN—!"

"NOOOO, WAIT—!"

but you’re already giggling uncontrollably, fully doubling over against his chest.

soobin groans, hiding his face in his hands. "ugh this is so embarrassing!"

you lift your head, still laughing, pressing a kiss to his flaming cheek. "you’re so cute, baby."

"don’t say that!" he whines, flailing his arms.

but you just smirk. "what? i thought you wanted to be all smooth and confident?"

soobin collapses onto the counter, burying his head in his arms. "i am NEVER doing that again."

you giggle, patting his head. "i dunno, baby. i think it was kinda hot."

soobin lifts his head slightly, peeking at you with hopeful eyes. "really?"

you grin. "no."

he lets out the loudest groan ever.

BEOMGYU

beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, annoying, and somehow always finds new ways to make you suffer. he’s clingy in the worst way—stealing your snacks, flopping onto you like a deadweight whenever he’s tired, and absolutely refusing to let you do anything in peace. he always has to be touching you—whether it’s throwing his leg over yours, wrapping his arms around you like a koala, or straight-up lying on top of you like you’re a personal mattress.

but the moment you touch him first? malfunction.

the second you get even a little flirty? shutdown.

and lately, you’ve been having way too much fun testing that theory.

because beomgyu’s been working out.

like, seriously working out.

and god, is it showing.

he’s huge now—his shoulders broader, his arms thicker, his waist still slim but now complemented with solid muscle. you don’t know when exactly he started hitting the gym like his life depended on it, but you do know it’s made play-fighting with him so much harder.

like right now, for example.

you’re on your bed, engaged in an intense pillow fight, but it’s not even fair anymore. beomgyu used to suck at this—he used to wheeze and flail and scream whenever you got the upper hand. but now? now he’s too strong. every time you swing at him, he effortlessly blocks it, laughing at your pathetic attempts to win.

"aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, easily dodging your next swing. "is someone losing?"

you scowl. "shut up."

"no, seriously," he grins, mocking you. "this is sad. like, you’re not even putting up a fight. are you even trying?"

oh, fuck him.

you drop the pillow, launching yourself at him instead.

beomgyu yelps as you tackle him down, using your weight to pin him beneath you. before he can react, you go for the kill—your fingers digging into his sides, tickling him ruthlessly.

"no no WAIT—"

his laughter explodes from his chest, high-pitched and desperate. he squirms, his muscles tensing under you as he tries to fight back, but you’re relentless, giggling as he gasps for air.

but then, just as your giggles subside, you become painfully aware of two things:

beomgyu looks hot.

you want him to choke you.

the realization hits you like a truck. because holy shit—he’s under you, panting, his face flushed, his arms bulging as they grip your waist, his lips parted just slightly, his brown eyes dark and half-lidded as he catches his breath.

oh.

oh, no.

you freeze, eyes locked on his.

beomgyu, of course, being the oblivious loser he is, just blinks at you, completely unaware of the thoughts flooding your brain.

and then he flips you over.

in one quick motion, Beomgyu has you pinned instead, his thick arm curling around your neck in a chokehold.

your brain short-circuits.

because—

this is exactly what you wanted.

and Beomgyu, still oblivious, leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"what now, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. "you thought you could win? look at you now."

oh, fuck.

your entire body shudders. this is too much. his scent, his weight, the way his arm presses against your throat just right—

"god, this feels so good."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

beomgyu freezes.

and then—

"…huh?"

his grip loosens instantly, and he stumbles back like he’s been electrocuted. his face is burning red, eyes wide in pure, unfiltered panic.

"w-what do you mean—" he gulps. "w-what do you—w-what—h-huh—?"

you blink up at him, suddenly just as flustered.

"uhm—"

"n-no wait—like—" beomgyu waves his arms, looking so painfully distressed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT FELT GOOD—?"

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his panicked gaze.

and then, because you literally have no other choice, you blurt out, "i think i like you."

beomgyu stares.

he stares.

and then he glitches, mouth opening and closing, hands twitching by his sides, brain fully crashing. his eyes dart everywhere except at you, his entire face a shade of red so intense you’re afraid he might actually pass out.

"you-you like me? like—LIKE ME like me?"

you bite your lip, nodding shyly. "yeah."

his breath catches and he immediately looks away, running a shaky hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to combust.

"h-holy shit—" he mutters under his breath. "oh my god oh my god—"

then—

"WAIT—SO YOU—SO YOU LIKED THE CHOKEHOLD?"

you groan, covering your face. "BEOMGYU—"

he wheezes, hands on his knees. "OH MY GOD—"

you swear he giggles. like, actually giggles.

then he stops and his entire body shudders.

and he whispers, "holy shit, that was kinda hot."

you choke.

"BEOMGYU!"

"you’re a freak," he teases, grinning. "wanting me to choke you and shit—"

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!"

but when he pulls you into a hug, still laughing, still red-faced and awkward and loser-ish in the best way, you can’t help but smile.

TAEHYUN

taehyun is a very serious tutor. he has strict rules—no distractions, no unnecessary conversations, and definitely no messing around. this is a learning environment, not a hangout session.

he prides himself on his focus, his ability to remain calm under any circumstance. he’s the type of guy who color-codes his notes, has a rigid study schedule, and unironically enjoys doing practice questions for fun. he does not—under any circumstances—get flustered over dumb things like romantic tension.

at least, that’s what he used to believe.

then you happened, and suddenly, his ability to not be a complete loser around you has disappeared entirely.

from the moment he agreed to tutor you in math, things have been an absolute disaster. you’re so unfair. you bat your eyelashes, you ask him to repeat things you already understand just to hear his voice, and worst of all, you stare at him. like he’s some kind of fascinating subject to study instead of the guy desperately trying to keep his composure while explaining differential equations.

he thought it would be fine—after all, he’s taehyun, and taehyun doesn’t get distracted. but within one week, he realized he was in deep, deep trouble.

because you mess with him. constantly.

like today.

you're both seated at a table in the library, supposed to be going over trigonometric identities. taehyun has the patience of a saint (or so he tells himself), but after fifteen minutes of you not even pretending to be paying attention, he's starting to lose it.

because you're staring at him shamelessly, chin propped up on your palm, eyes locked onto him with a lazy smile playing on your lips.

he tries to ignore it. he really does. his eyes flick to the textbook, his pen tapping against the table in a controlled rhythm. but it’s like your gaze is physically burning into him, and the more he tries to focus, the harder it gets.

finally, he snaps.

"what?" he blurts, gripping his pen so tightly it might explode.

you blink, all innocent. "what do you mean?"

"you're staring at me."

"oh." your lips curl into a slow smirk. "i was just thinking."

taehyun immediately doesn’t like the sound of that.

"thinking about what?" he asks, voice strained.

"how pretty you are."

his pen drops to the table with a clatter.

"i—" he chokes on air, already feeling heat crawl up his neck. he forces himself to focus, grabbing his pen with a death grip like it’s some kind of life support. "th-that’s irrelevant. get back to the problem."

but you? oh, you're evil.

you lean in closer, resting your chin on your hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "i mean it," you hum. "you’re so cute, taehyun. it’s distracting."

distracting?

oh, the irony.

because you’re calling him distracting while he’s actively trying not to combust on the spot.

"s-stop," he stammers, adjusting his glasses even though they don’t need adjusting. "i—i don’t see how this is relevant to trigonometry—"

"it’s not," you shrug. "but I think you should know how much I like looking at you."

his breathing stops.

and then, as if you haven’t already destroyed him enough, you reach forward and fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

taehyun physically malfunctions.

tis ears are burning, his pulse is racing, and for the first time in his entire life, he has no idea what to do.

and so? he chooses violence.

without a word, taehyun slams his textbook shut, grabs his bag, and bolts out of the library so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet.

"we’re done!" he yells over his shoulder, voice cracking. "see you next week!"

you lose it, dissolving into laughter as you watch him practically sprint out of the building, ears glowing red.

and somewhere, down the hallway, taehyun is muttering under his breath about how this is why he should’ve never agreed to tutor you.

oh, he is never living this down.

HUENINGKAI

hueningkai has been a mess around you for as long as you can remember.

it’s kind of ridiculous, really. despite being handsome and built like a human teddy bear, he has zero game. like, none at all. he stutters when talking to pretty people (you), trips over his own feet at least twice a day, and would definitely combust if you so much as complimented him unexpectedly.

and the fact that he’s your best friend bahiyyih’s older brother just makes it all the more entertaining. every time you so much as acknowledge his existence, bahiyyih rolls her eyes like she’s watching a romcom in real-time.

it’s adorable, really.

which is why, when he hesitantly approaches you after lecture one day, eyes darting everywhere but at your face, you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to be good.

"c-can you help me shop for hiyyih’s birthday?" he stammers, gripping the straps of his backpack like his life depends on it. "i—i don’t really know what to get her, and you're, um, good at this stuff…"

you smile, amused. "of course, kai. let’s go."

fast forward an hour later, and you find yourself in a cosmetics store, browsing through endless rows of lip glosses.

you hold up two tubes, lips pursed in thought. "i can't decide between these two," you mumble, glancing at kai, who has been hovering behind you like a nervous puppy the entire time.

his eyes flicker to the glosses, then to you, then away, like he’s afraid of looking at you too long.

"uh, i mean—" he stammers, rubbing his neck. "they both look nice?"

you narrow your eyes. useless.

"i need an actual opinion," you huff before popping the cap off one of them. you apply a coat to your lips, then turn to him with a tilt of your head. "how does this one look?"

hueningkai’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

iI—it’s pretty," he says finally, voice cracking on the last syllable.

you suppress a giggle, then glance at the other gloss. "okay, but I need to compare. I can’t put this one on my lips because I already have the first shade on."

he blinks, confused. "oh. uh, so—"

"so I should put it on yours," you finish simply.

his face goes from pink to red in record time. his eyes are huge, lips parting slightly like he just had a stroke.

"w-wait—on me?!"

you arch a brow, feigning innocence. "yeah? so I can see the difference properly. otherwise, we’ll never know which one’s better."

his throat bobs. his fingers tighten around the straps of his shopping bag. "i—uh—"

he looks like he’s two seconds away from self-destructing, but then he nods—barely and stiffly presses his lips together.

you bite back a grin.

he really is a loser.

gently, you lift the applicator and lean in, holding his chin steady with your free hand. his skin burns under your fingertips, and you swear you can hear his breathing get shakier. his eyes squeeze shut, his shoulders tense, and his entire existence is one giant ball of nerves.

but the second the wand makes contact with his pouty lower lip, he starts fidgeting.

"kai, hold still," you laugh, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. his cheeks are burning, and his lips part in surprise as your fingers graze his skin. his entire body locks up, lips parting slightly as his breath hitches. his big, round eyes are glued to your face now, completely mesmerized as you lean in closer.

his lips are so pouty. plush, glossy, glistening under the store’s lights, and suddenly, it feels like your body is moving on its own. before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to his wide, dazed eyes—then down to his parted lips—

and you kiss him.

It’s soft at first—just a press of your lips against his. but the moment you start to pull away, he—to your utter shock—kisses you back.

slow, hesitant, but definitely kissing back.

his lips move against yours in a way that’s both nervous and eager—like he can’t believe this is happening but wants more anyway. his hand hovers near your wrist, as if he wants to hold you closer but is too shy to do it.

and that’s when it hits you.

you just kissed hueningkai. in public.

iou jolt back, eyes wide. "i’m so sorry—i-i didn’t mean—"

but kai? he just stared at you, lips still glossy, blinking like his brain is still catching up to reality. then, slowly—so, so shyly—he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, lips curling into the tiniest smile.

"i... liked that, actually," he mutters, barely above a whisper.

the air turns thick with tension, and you can’t tell who’s more flustered—him, with his red ears and adorably shy expression, or you, with your pulse hammering a mile a minute.

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

and then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, hueningkai clears his throat and asks, "s-so, um… which gloss do you think looks better?"

you laugh, cheeks still warm. "honestly?" you glance at his lips. "i think i like this one better."

and just like that, his face explodes into color all over again.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @soobnuuy @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories @firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie @gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12 @evandsolo

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taasgirl · 8 months ago

Text

i like me better - franco colapinto

summary: franco and driver!reader seem to be getting closer, through their shared social media interaction. once y/n gets her first fp1 drive, everything falls into place.

a/n: everything is fictional, and there is no face claim! enjoy :)

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and 563, 982 others ynusername trading four wheels for two this weekend 😉

mercedesamgf1 Please get off the bike y/n

lilymhe IS THAT A BABY Y/N PIC I SEE

ynusername hehe maybe

landonorris I know toto died seeing you post this liked by ynusername

motogp Fancy a weekend with us?

ynusername OH MY GOD I THOUGH YOU'D NEVER ASK team_toto_wolff No Y/n.

lewishamilton 🩷

ynusername hey dad!

liked by francolapinto, oscarpiastri, and 3, 872, 440 others landonorris Summer break you will be missed

danielricciardo Mate you're so ugly

landonorris Smd old man

mclaren Pls tell us that you didn't actually go dirt biking

landonorris Don't worry I was with y/n mclaren That makes it worse

ynusername I'm on a mission to take the whole grid on a dirt biking adventure, who's next bitchessss

francolapinto Me me me I volunteer landonorris Someone's eager 😏

view ynusername's story...

caption: track limits at turn 7 stewards go get their asses

liked by francolapinto, lewishamilton, and 711, 923 others ynusername excited to take lewis' car out for a spin in fp1 #justiceforreservedrivers

lewishamilton Don't pull a Kimi

kimi.antonelli What the hell Lewis

landonorris awww baby y/n

landonorris Still hasn't achieved her goals of racing in f1 hehe ynusername just for that i'm running u off track tomorrow xx

francolapinto Congratulations Y/N! I'm excited to see you out there

ynusername thanks franco!!

patriciooward I agree #justiceforreservedrivers liked by ynusername

liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, and 5, 720, 816 others mercedesamgf1 Celebratory hugs between Y/N and Lewis following Y/N's superb FP1 drive!

tagged: ynusername & lewishamilton

ynusername Maybe like I can replace the dinosaur or something aha...

francolapinto My favourite driver as a child and my favourite driver as an adult together 🤗

ynusername wow thank you franco! landonorris Boy you are NOT slick

lewishamilton The 🐐

lewishamilton And Y/n.

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 142, 674 others ynusername some funny photos from a very fun weekend

francolapinto Come on you post my teammate but not me?

ynusername maybe you should visit me often then 🤷‍♀️

georgerussell63 Is that Toto...

ynusername affirmative

landonorris Trust in y/n to expose the grid hmmm

alex_albon Wow @/georgerussell63 looking sexy

lilymhe Stop hitting on GEORGE

lewishamilton ⭐ liked by ynusername

francolapinto Penalty for eating ice cream during race week

ynusername booooo someone throw tomatoes on him

user53 DOUBLE FRANCO COMMENTS

liked by alex_albon, ynusername, and 1, 448, 925 others francolapinto Good weekend 😁

tagged: williamsracing & alex_albon

alex_albon Mate does not live up to the hype sorry Franco

ynusername what the actual hell are you doing to that car in the second photo

francolapinto I can show you later if you'd like This comment was deleted

ynusername also you expect me to post you but you don't even post me smh

francolapinto You go first then

landonorris holy shit I saw that comment franco

williamsracing We're pretending that we didn't!

view ynusername's story...

caption: fine I'll go first @/francolapinto

view francolapinto's story...

caption: She clearly doesn't like paparazzi

liked by oscarpiastri, paularon, and 2, 630, 727 others francolapinto I might fall off but at least a pretty girl can give me CPR

tagged: ynusername

landonoriss FUCKING FINALY

lewishamilton I'm keeping my eye on you Franco

francolapinto 😅

ynusername awww you think I'm pretty?

francolapinto I'm happy to repeat myself francolapinto You are the prettiest girl I've ever met

williamsracing Please do not fall off

view ynusername's story...

caption: how is he a formula one driver and still so uncoordinated

how did we like this guys? ALSO why the hell are there no new photos of franco on pinterest like damn. Let me know if you like this and as always reqs are open!

2K notes · View notes

selenasgirltiffany21 · 1 month ago

Text

#caption #original caption #gif caption #celeb caption #peyton list caption #eager caption #excited caption #outside caption #bikini caption #swimsuit caption #100 notes #100 note caption #100 note gif #100 note peyton list

124 notes · View notes

lvrgurlblobbu · 2 months ago

Text

dolled up

“all dolled up just for me, my beautiful wife.”

zayne x fem!reader

⤿ part of snow angel series : )

⤿ cw: MDNI, p in v, thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, mirror sex, spanking, rough sex, sprinkle of brat tamer!zayne

⤿ word count: 5.2k

⤿ synopsis: zayne has been having a rough week due to multiple surgeries, meetings, and tons of paper works so one night, you decided to give him a little surprise : )

ao3

You were lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone while the television murmured in the background. The house had been quiet the past few days since Hyacinth decided to join her grandparents—Zayne’s parents—on their four-day trip. A small smile tugged at your lips as her grandmother sent a photo of your five-year-old daughter beaming at the camera, cradling a tiny kitten in her arms. The caption read, “She wants to take the kitten home.”

You glanced at the calendar. They were due back in two days, and you couldn’t wait to hug her again and hear all about their little adventure.

You went through your other notifications, eyes scanning for your husband’s name. These past few weeks had been hectic for Zayne—back-to-back surgeries, endless meetings, and a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk. The exhaustion was written all over his face, dark circles shadowing his eyes. You’d been gently urging him to take a day off, but being the workaholic he was, he always found a reason to decline. He insisted he couldn’t step away, not wanting to fall behind on his responsibilities.

You were about to take a nap when you heard the doorbell ring. You immediately sat up and padded toward the door. As you peeked through the peephole, you realized it was just a delivery. Opening the door, the delivery man gave you a polite nod and handed over an electronic pad for you to sign. You signed your name and thanked him, then took the medium-sized box into your hands. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something carefully packed. Closing the door behind you, you walked back into the living room and placed the box on the coffee table.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. When you checked the notification and saw it was from a clothing brand, your lips curled into a small smirk. Wasting no time, you grabbed a cutter to unbox the package that had just arrived. As you peeled back the flaps, a smile spread across your face—it was the lingerie set you’d ordered online. Without a second thought, you picked up the box and made your way to your shared bedroom, eager to try it on.

It was a pastel pink babydoll-style nightdress made from sheer, lightweight fabric.The bust area features embroidered floral lace with underwire support and satin ribbon detailing in the center. It made your cleavage pop due to its padding. Thin double shoulder straps add a dainty touch, and the skirt flows gently down about a few inches from your intimate area, ending in layered ruffled hems for a soft, romantic look. It also came with a laced pink thong that goes well with the lingerie, as well as an accessory which is a pearl choker and a simple necklace with a small pendant.

And of course, being the little tease you are, you couldn’t resist. After slipping into the delicate lingerie, you sat on the edge of the bed, angled your phone just right, and snapped a mirror selfie. With a sly smile, you sent it to Zayne—who was still at work—along with a message that read: “When are you coming home? I miss you...”

It hadn’t even been five minutes when his reply came through.

“Sweetheart, you look gorgeous. However, I’m in the middle of an important meeting right now.”

You bit your lip, amusement dancing in your eyes. Switching to the front camera, you adjusted the angle and took another photo—this time showing only from your chest down to your thighs, the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination. With a light tap, you sent it off.

Not long after, another message lit up your screen.

“I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, setting your phone down as you settled back on the bed. Mission accomplished.

***

You heard your front door and that signaled that Zayne is already home. With a soft giggle, you stepped out of your shared bedroom then went downstairs to greet him.

“Hello, my love—“ He was suddenly taken aback and his coat dropped to the floor when he saw you standing before him, wearing the lingerie you bought. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Hm? Why would I be? I feel perfectly fine..” You answered before placing a peck on his lips, “Welcome home.”

You caught the faint flush creeping up his neck, his ears turning a telltale shade of red as his eyes roamed over your figure. His gaze faltered, locking onto the curve of your hips—specifically, the absence of that laced thong you’d been teasing him with earlier. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, trying (and failing) to keep his expression neutral.

You bit your lip, barely containing a giggle at the way his composure unraveled.

“Hungry?” you asked, your voice low and teasing, the double meaning lingering in the air.

He gave a slow, slightly dazed nod.

You reached out and laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle tug. “Come on, then.”

Guiding him to the kitchen, you revealed the small dinner setup you’d prepared—candles flickering, plates warm, and everything in place. The contrast between the tension in the air and the peaceful domesticity made it all the more intimate.

You both sat down to eat, the silence between you charged but comfortable, like a storm waiting just past the horizon.

As you finished, the two of you did your usual routine— wiping the table, washing the dishes, placing the leftovers inside the fridge.. However, the way his eyes flicker to you, the clenching and unclenching of his hand, his reddened ears, and deep breaths doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Currently, the both of you are enjoying ice cream for dessert, the quiet clink of spoons filling the cozy air between you. The soft lighting casts a gentle glow, making everything feel just a little more intimate.

You glance at him, a small smile playing on your lips as you tilt your head.

“So, how are you, my love?”

He looks up from his bowl, his expression calm, almost unreadable. He gives a small shrug, stirring the ice cream around absently.

“Same old,” he replies casually. “Had three surgeries, two meetings and finished the paperworks that was sitting at my desk for days. How about you?”

He scoops another spoonful without looking at you, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—like he’s trying not to let on too much.

“It was fine, just missing our little girl. Your mother sent a picture earlier, Hyacinth is cradling a tiny kitten in her arms and she wants to take it home with her..” A quiet laugh slips from your lips, fond and wistful, as you glance at him.

“I have no objections to that,” he said smoothly—but just then, you noticed a small smear of ice cream at the corner of his lips. Instead of reaching out to wipe it away, you leaned in slowly, eyes locked on his, the air thick with unspoken tension. Your lips brushed the corner of his mouth as you licked the bit of ice cream off, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

When you pulled back, a playful smile tugged at your lips.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered.

His eyes darkened slightly, jaw tightening just a fraction as he stared at you, that neutral composure starting to crack.

“[Name].. Love..” He muttered, gaze locking into yours. “What?” you respond, a small smile curling on your lips.

“You’re being such a tease..”

“I am not…” you denied with mock innocence as you hopped off the stool, deliberately swaying your hips on the way to the fridge. Bending down slowly, you opened it with an exaggerated hum. “Hmm, what should we—ah!”

You yelped softly as a sudden, firm smack landed on your ass. Glancing over your shoulder with a smirk, you found him standing behind you, eyes dark with intent.

“Oh?” you teased, scooting your bare ass back until it pressed against the hard outline of his clothed crotch. You gave the slightest roll of your hips, just enough to feel the sharp breath he drew in behind you.

Before you could even process his next move, strong arms wrapped around your waist, and in one smooth motion, he hoisted you over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you started, laughing, but his voice cut through, low and full of heat.

“I’ve had enough of this teasing, my love…” he growled as he began striding purposefully toward the stairs. “Let’s see if you can hold onto that attitude of yours.”

You gasped, heart pounding with anticipation, the fridge long forgotten as he carried you up to your shared bedroom like a man on a mission.

As you both enter your room, he strides towards your bed before gently tossing you to lie down, the mattress dipping beneath you as he looms over, eyes dark with intent. You used your arms to anchor yourself as you stared at him..

“Hm??” You teased, brow raising at him as hig gaze trails from your face, to your chest, and down to your exposed cunt. Then you felt his fingers teasing your folds which caused you to whimper..

“Z-Zayne..” you whimpered as he began to massage your wet folds..

“Yes, my love? Wouldn’t want your effort to go to waste, hm?” He whispered as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “My wife waited for me to come home dressed like this, all dolled up just for me. I am a lucky man.” He muttered before his lips met yours, melting in a passionate kiss.

His lips moved against yours with slow, deliberate tenderness, savoring every second like he’d been starved of your touch. Then, you felt him insert his finger inside your pussy which made you moan, he used it to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you fully—hungry, aching, possessive.

A soft moan escaped as he pressed closer, his body flush with yours, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. He pulled back just slightly, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, “You have no idea what it does to me, seeing you like this… knowing you’re mine.” he whispered as his kisses trailed down your neck, nibbling on your sensitive skin. Hard enough to the point he’s certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Then he pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of you— face flushed with lust and desire, lips kiss-swollen and parted, chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. His eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

“God, look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, admiring the way it trembled beneath his touch. “So beautiful… and all mine.”

“Z-Zayne— ahh!” You arched your back as you felt him fasten the thrusts of his fingers in your wet heat, back arching as you gripped the sheets.

“That’s it, say my name.. My love..” He mumbled as his kisses went down your pussy, “Let me have a taste of you, wife.” He whispered before he used his tongue to lick your slit. His fingers still pumping in your pussy, while his other hand is gripping your hips to keep it from moving.

“Mmphh!” You moaned as he continued to flick his tongue against you, his fingers curling inside as he kissed and lapped on your sensitive flesh. Then, you felt the tension building in your core and you’re sure that he feels it— the way your legs tremble and pussy clenched around his digits.

However, it seems like he has other plans because just as you were about to come, he suddenly retracted his fingers and lips from your pussy, leaving it soaking wet and hole gaping.

“Zayne?!” you exclaimed, chest heaving and your pussy aching from your denied orgasm.

“What?” he said with a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers worked slowly down the buttons of his polo. The fabric parted to reveal the firm lines of his chest, and your breath caught just a little at the sight.

Once the shirt was off, he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but eyes burning with intent. He patted his thigh, gaze smoldering. “Come here,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Right where you belong.”

You moved toward him, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The moment you settled onto his lap, his hands immediately found your hips, pulling you flush against him. The heat between your bodies was undeniable, electric.

He let out a quiet, satisfied sigh as his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the fabric clinging to your skin. “There we go,” he whispered against your neck, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. “You feel so good… so warm.”

One hand cradled the small of your back, holding you close, while the other traced slow circles along your thigh. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, lips trailing soft kisses along your jaw. “But you’re making it very hard to be patient.”

“Zayne.. please—“ you pleaded as he trailed wet kisses on your neck.

“Please what? Use your words sweetheart..” He replied, his hands traveling down your thigh then to your ass, cupping it gently. “Do you want to come, sweetheart?” He asked in which you nodded in response.

“Only good girls deserve to come, do you think you’ve been good? Hm?”

“Y-Yes, please, my love—ah!” You yelped as his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, unexpected smack. The sound echoed in the room, followed by a rush of heat blooming beneath your skin.

“Wrong answer.” He hand lingered, soothing the sting with a gentle caress before gripping you firmly, possessively. “Do good girls send suggestive pictures of themselves? Because I don’t think so, good girls earn a reward and what happened to bratty ones, like you?”

“Mm… Sorry—ah!” you gasped as his hand connected with your ass once more, the sharp sting making your hips jolt against him. The second smack left your skin tingling, heat flaring both where he touched and deep in your core.

He grinned against your neck, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re not sorry,” he growled playfully, his voice thick with arousal. “You like it when I make you squirm. Since you wanted to come so bad, work for it.” He said as he guided your hips to grind on his clothed thigh, his hand finding its way to massage your clit while the other was cupping your breasts. Then he tugged the lingerie down, exposing your bare chest before leaning in to suck on your sensitive bud.

You clung to his shoulder for support, grinding desperately against his thigh. Your head fell back, a moan escaping you as the friction of your bare cunt dragging over the rough fabric of his pants sent lightning through your nerves. Every roll of your hips made your legs tremble, but you couldn’t stop—even if you wanted to.

He watched you, eyes dark with hunger, letting you use him, letting you fall apart. His fingers, which had been expertly circling your clit just moments before, suddenly withdrew. You whimpered at the loss, your hips stuttering, needing that contact again—but he had other plans.

His hand slid upward with deliberate slowness, trailing over your stomach, grazing your ribs, before finally cupping your breasts—firm, possessive. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, coaxing them into tight peaks. Then he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

“Touch yourself,” he growled, low and commanding.

Before you could even think to hesitate, his mouth closed around one aching nipple, tongue teasing, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch. His free hand kneaded your other breast, palm warm, fingers rough with need as they rolled and tugged your nipple between them. You gasped, body torn between the heat building in your core and the overwhelming pleasure of his mouth on you.

You slid a shaky hand down between your thighs, fingers slipping over your soaked folds. The contrast of your own touch, slick and hot, while his tongue dragged over your skin, made you cry out. You rubbed small circles against your clit, pressure building again too fast, too strong.

"Good girl," he murmured against your breast, voice vibrating through your chest. "Don’t stop. I want to feel you fall apart on me."

“Z-Zayne... Mm, near…” you moaned, the words trembling from your lips, barely coherent through the haze of pleasure flooding your body.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of his name like that—half-whimpered, soaked in desperation. His teeth grazed your nipple, then he sucked hard, sending another jolt straight to your core. His hand tightened on your breast as he glanced up at you, eyes heavy with lust and control.

“Then come for me,” he rasped against your skin, voice thick and raw. “Don’t hold back—I want to feel it. Want to see you fall apart on me.”

His thigh tensed beneath you, giving you more pressure, and your fingers moved faster on your clit, chasing the wave that threatened to break. Every breath you took was laced with fire. The world narrowed down to him—his mouth, his voice, the way his body held you like he’d never let go.

Your moans pitched higher, body trembling as your climax surged, sharp and overwhelming. Your hips jerked against his thigh as the pleasure crested, stars exploding behind your eyes.

“Zayne—!” you cried out as you came, body locking up, then shuddering hard against him.

He didn’t let up. He kept his mouth on you, kept his hand steady, drawing out every pulse of your orgasm until you were a boneless mess in his arms, chest heaving, fingers still twitching where they’d been between your thighs. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you—flushed, wrecked, glowing with satisfaction. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You should see yourself when you come for me.”

Then he lifted you with ease, strong arms wrapping around your waist as if you weighed nothing, and laid you back onto the bed with a gentleness that contrasted the heat still crackling in the air. The sheets felt cool against your overheated skin, but your eyes stayed locked on him, hungry, dazed.

He stood at the edge of the bed, gaze dragging over your body like a promise, dark and slow.

Without a word, he began to undress.

First, he discarded his unbuttoned polo. The fabric hit the floor somewhere behind him, forgotten. Your breath caught at the sight of him—broad chest, toned muscles, skin flushed with desire. Your thighs pressed together instinctively. Next came the belt. The soft click of the buckle sent another rush of heat through you. His fingers worked with calm precision, sliding it free, letting it hang from one hand for just a second too long—like he wanted you to imagine what else it could be used for.

Then he dropped it.

You watched as he unbuttoned his pants, the zipper dragging down with a low rasp. He let them fall, the fabric pooling around his feet. He stepped out of them, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving yours. Now, all that remained between you and him was the tight press of his briefs—already tented with the unmistakable outline of his cock. Your mouth went dry.

His smirk deepened as he caught your stare. “Like what you see?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

But you could only nod, breathless, already aching for more.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few slow, deliberate strokes. His eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction—the way your chest rose and fell, the way your thighs shifted, needy and slick with anticipation.

The sight of you spread out beneath him, still trembling from your last orgasm, clearly drove him wild. Then, with the grace of a predator, he crawled onto the bed—each movement controlled, powerful. The mattress dipped under his weight as he moved closer, until he was hovering above you, arms braced on either side of your head.

His cock rested against your stomach, hot and heavy, pulsing with need. You could feel the heat of him, the sheer size of him, and it made your mouth go dry all over again. He leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, then your neck, trailing kisses that made your skin burn.

"You’re so wet for me," he murmured against your throat, voice thick with praise and hunger. "You ready for more?"

His hips rolled ever so slightly, letting his length drag along your slick folds, teasing your entrance without giving in just yet. The sensation pulled a needy whimper from you, your hands gripping his arms, nails digging in.

"Say it," he whispered, mouth ghosting over your lips. "Tell me what you want."

“You… I need you, Zayne,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper as your hands rose to cup his cheeks, fingers trembling slightly with need.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening just for a moment, grounding you in the middle of all that burning heat. He turned his head and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm, as if anchoring himself there—before his gaze darkened once more.Then, without another word, he shifted his hips and thrust into you in one smooth, deep stroke.

You gasped—your back arching as he filled you completely, the stretch making your whole body shudder. He slid in with effortless ease, your slick heat welcoming him, clenching around him like your body already knew exactly who he was meant to belong to.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and ragged, forehead resting briefly against yours as he held still inside you, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

The air between you buzzed with heat, your breaths mingling, your bodies already molding together like puzzle pieces that had finally locked into place.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmured against your lips, his voice reverent. “So tight… so perfect.”

You could only moan in response, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer, deeper—already desperate for more. And then he began to move.

He didn’t ease into it.

Once he had you stretched around him, gasping and shaking beneath him, he pulled back—just enough to make you feel the loss—then slammed back in with a force that made the headboard rattle against the wall.

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, but he didn’t slow down. His pace was relentless, each thrust hard and deep, driving the breath from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with the wet, obscene sounds of your body welcoming him again and again.

“God—Zayne!” you gasped, legs tightening around him. Every time he bottomed out, you swore you saw stars. The way he filled you, stretched you, claimed you—it was almost too much.

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his grip firm, dominant. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling it with quick, rough precision.

“You wanted this?” he growled into your ear, voice dark and wicked. “Then take it. Take every fucking inch.” Your back arched off the bed, body twitching under the dual assault of his cock pounding into you and his fingers working you to the edge all over again.

“Such a good girl,” he snarled, voice breaking with lust. “So wet, so fucking tight. You were made for this—made for me.”

You were unraveling fast, the pleasure coming in crashing waves. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, tighter.

“Come for me,” he demanded, thrusts growing faster, rougher, slamming into your sweet spot over and over. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

And with one more stroke—just right, just perfect—you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. You screamed his name, body convulsing under him, toes curling, thighs shaking.

But he didn’t stop. He kept going—riding you through your high, chasing his own. His rhythm grew messy, desperate, and then with a strangled groan, he thrust one final time, deep and hard, before spilling inside you, his whole body trembling above yours.

Even as his body trembled, even with his release still pulsing inside you, he stayed hard—still hungry. He growled low against your throat, teeth grazing your skin as he pulled out slowly, leaving you slick and aching.

“Not done with you,” he muttered, voice thick, breath hot against your ear. “Get on all fours.”

Your body obeyed before your mind caught up—already sensitive, already spent, but somehow still needing more. You turned over, chest pressed to the sheets, ass lifted for him, trembling slightly as the cool air hit your slick heat.

Then he grabbed your hips, dragging you back until you were perfectly positioned—back arched, legs spread, completely exposed. But it wasn’t until he reached forward and tilted your chin toward the side that you realized what he wanted.

Your eyes met your reflection in the mirror across the room.

You looked wrecked—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, bite marks blooming on your neck and collarbone. Your hair was wild, sweat-slicked skin glowing, thighs streaked with your combined release. You barely recognized the desperate, cockdrunk expression staring back at you.

And it only made the heat between your legs flare up all over again.

“Look at yourself,” Zayne growled from behind you, lining himself up once more. “Look at how fucked out you are—and I’m still not finished.”

Then he slammed back into you.

You cried out, eyes flying wide at the sight of him driving into you from behind—his hips snapping against your ass, cock filling you just as deep, just as hard as before. The mirror gave you everything—his expression twisted in lust, the way your body took him like it was made for this, the obscene wet sounds of him thrusting into your still-dripping cunt.

His hands gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he pounded into you, relentless, unmerciful. Your arms gave out, collapsing you to your elbows, but you couldn’t look away from the mirror—you watched yourself come undone all over again, watched him ruin you.

“This is what you wanted right? Dressing all dolled up for me. You knew exactly what you were doing. Teasing me. Tempting me. Acting like you were so innocent.” Smack! “You’re acting like this on purpose,” he growled, voice gravel and heat as he slammed into you again, making your knees slide forward on the sheets.” Smack! “Just so I’d punish you, isn’t that right?” Smack!

You cried out, nails clawing at the bedding, body trembling as he fucked you with brutal, punishing thrusts. Your cheek pressed against the mattress, mouth open and panting—but you couldn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Your body answered for you.

He reached down and yanked your hair back, forcing your head up—forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror again. Your eyes were glassy, your mouth swollen, tears streaking your cheeks, and your cunt was stretched wide around him, dripping and ruined.

He slammed into you again—hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

“You wanted this,” he growled. “You wanted to be bent over and fucked until you couldn’t think. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? To feel me cum so deep inside you it sticks.”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you cried out, the words spilling out broken and raw as another orgasm coiled tight in your core, overwhelming and impossible to fight. He released your hair and grabbed both your hips, dragging you back onto him with a bruising grip as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered through gritted teeth, voice sharp with dominance.

Your hand slid beneath you, fingers finding your clit and circling fast, desperate, as the pressure started building again—faster this time, messier, your entire body already primed to snap.

“That's it,” he hissed. “Fuck yourself on my cock. Watch yourself fall apart.”

And you did.

You moaned his name, loud and broken, as another orgasm ripped through you, your body clenching around him so hard it made him curse. You trembled violently, gasping, eyes locked on your reflection—completely gone, completely his.

He fucked you through it with savage thrusts until he was right there again—grunting, swearing, then jerking inside you as he came again, spilling deep, hips grinding against your ass as if trying to get even deeper.

Then, you felt him relax, his breaths slowing, and the tension in his body eased. He pressed gentle, lingering kisses to your shoulders, as if grounding himself in the moment, in the connection between you two.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice tender, a contrast to the roughness that had just passed between you. His hand, warm and steady, moved to guide you closer, helping you adjust as he slowly slid himself out of you.

You could barely form words as you leaned into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, both of you finding comfort in the warmth of each other. The soft rhythm of his breath in your ear was grounding, making everything feel calmer, safer. He brushed a few strands of hair away from your face as he cupped your cheeks, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

“Was I too rough on you?” he asked, concern clearly etched across his face. His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his tenderness, the way he cared for you so deeply, so intently. With a soft smile, you shook your head slightly, your fingers lightly resting on his hand where it cupped your cheek.

“No, I’m alright, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring, the words a quiet promise.

He exhaled deeply, his lips pressing softly against your forehead in a kiss full of affection. You could feel the relief in his touch, the weight of his concern lifting as he held you even closer, just letting the silence settle around you both.

"I love you..." he mumbled, his voice warm and tender as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, holding you close against him. His arms wrapped around you like a protective shield, his heartbeat steady and comforting.

"Let’s just stay like this for a while, okay?" His words were soft, filled with a quiet yearning for peace, as if he didn’t want to let go of this moment.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath as you snuggled closer, your body melting into his. The words felt like an affirmation, a bond that only grew stronger with every passing second. You felt safe, cared for, and utterly at peace in his arms.

dividers by: @uzzmachiato @anitalenia

#dr zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #lads zayne #li shen #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads smut #zayne smut #smut #p in v sex #mirror sex #brat tamer zayne #makirolls

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ari-ana-bel-la · 4 months ago

Note

Hi love! Could you do Lewis with a teen daughter that always does his braids or his hair and is also kind of known around the paddock for her style/her own hair?

Braids

The sun glinted off the sleek, shining cars in the paddock as cameras flashed and fans cheered. It was a busy Friday at the track, the buzz of another race weekend filling the air. The usual suspects had already arrived—drivers, engineers, media—each adding to the electric energy. But nothing could prepare anyone for the wave of excitement that swept through the paddock when Lewis strolled in, exuding confidence and charm.

His hair, freshly braided, was styled with a precision and flair that had everyone doing a double-take. The intricate patterns woven across his scalp, sleek and symmetrical, highlighted his already striking features. His usual cool demeanor was accented by a sharp designer outfit—an oversized cream jacket paired with tailored trousers, accessorized with diamond studs that caught the sunlight.

"Whoa," Oscar said, nudging Lando in the ribs as they stood by the McLaren garage. "Look at Lewis. Fresh braids. Man's killing it."

Lando squinted, pushing his curly hair back under his cap. "Yeah, that's clean. Wonder who did them?"

The mystery didn't linger for long. As Lewis made his way through the paddock, reporters swarmed, eager to capture the new look. One particularly bold journalist caught his attention. "Lewis! Those braids are incredible. Where'd you get them done?"

A wide smile spread across his face, pride gleaming in his eyes. "My daughter did them," he said, his voice warm. "Yn's been braiding my hair since she was fifteen. She's eighteen now—practically a pro."

The crowd hummed with admiration. Of course, it had to be Yn. She was already a sensation in her own right. Known for her cutting-edge fashion and signature hairstyles, Yn had a unique flair that blended timeless elegance with modern boldness. More than once, she had turned the paddock into her personal runway, never afraid to experiment or push boundaries. It was no wonder her father's braids were flawless.

By the time Lewis reached the Ferrari garage, the internet was ablaze. Social media flooded with close-ups of his new hairstyle, captions unanimously praising Yn's talent.

Braids by Yn. The Hamilton genes are undefeated.

Forget the cars, can we talk about Lewis' hair? His daughter has hands blessed by the gods.

Lewis scrolled through the comments during a quiet moment, chuckling softly to himself. Pride swelled in his chest. He knew how talented his daughter was, but seeing the world recognize it too? That was something else.

The next day, just when the paddock thought it had seen everything, Yn arrived.

She walked in with her grandparents on either side, exuding effortless confidence. Her outfit hugged her figure perfectly, balanced by chunky gold jewellery and boots that clacked softly against the concrete. But it was her hair that stole the show.

Yn's braids, an intricate cascade of rich brown strands, shimmered in the sunlight. Small and delicate curles were woven throughout, catching the light with every movement. The patterns were even more complex than the ones she'd done for her father, a true testament to her skill.

As soon as Lewis spotted her, a grin broke across his face. He crossed the garage in a few strides, wrapping his daughter in a warm embrace. "You did these yourself?" he asked, pulling back slightly to examine the braids.

"Of course," Yn beamed, tilting her head to give him a better view. "You know I had to come correct."

He chuckled, reaching out to carefully take a braid between his fingers. "These are beautiful, baby. You outdid yourself."

"Wait until you see what I want to try next," Yn said, pulling out her phone. She swiped through her photo gallery, showing him a series of inspiration images. "This one's a geometric pattern—super sharp lines—and this..." She paused on a picture of short, shoulder-length twists. "I think you'd look sick with these."

Lewis listened attentively, nodding along as she spoke. He always loved how passionate she was about her craft. "I trust you," he said. "Whatever you want to try next, I'm game."

Just then, Charles wandered over, his eyes widening when he saw Yn. "Whoa, okay," he said, giving an approving nod. "The braids are next-level. You're making the rest of us look bad."

Yn laughed, bumping her shoulder playfully against her father's. "Can't help it if we're the most stylish ones here."

"Facts," Lewis added, his arm draping comfortably around her shoulders. "It's in the blood."

Their easy banter and undeniable charisma made them the most photogenic duo in the paddock. Cameras followed their every move, capturing moments of laughter, admiration, and love. By the time the day was over, the hashtag #HamiltonRoyalty was trending worldwide.

Later that afternoon, while Lewis prepared for qualifying, Yn sat in the Ferrari hospitality suite with her grandparents, chatting softly. Every so often, she'd glance at the TV screens broadcasting her father's on-track performance, a quiet pride blooming in her chest.

When he emerged after a blistering lap that put him on the front row, Yn was the first person he sought out. "Told you I'd deliver," he teased, pulling her into another hug.

"Of course you did," Yn replied, her voice soft with affection. "You're the GOAT."

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the paddock settled into a golden glow, the image of the stylish Hamiltons—father and daughter, side by side—lingered in everyone's minds. The world could talk about race strategies and lap times all day long, but nothing was as iconic as the bond they shared. And if there was one thing everyone agreed on, it was that Yn was just getting started.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

#f1 drivers as fathers #formula 1 #formula one #lewis hamilton x daughter!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #dad!lewis hamilton #hamilton!reader #f1 x daughter!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #💙🦋

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angelxarii · 4 months ago

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₊˚ʚ ₊˚✧ ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ - ɪꜱᴀɢɪ ʏᴏɪᴄʜɪ ��⁸⁺

ᴛᴡꜱ: ꜱᴏᴍɴᴏ, ᴍᴇꜱꜱʏ

Isagi who comes home late from practice. Cock straining in shorts only because earlier today you were so kind as to send him a picture of your tits, your nipples hard and untouched. And another one not too long after of you wearing blue lace panties with a small darker blue spot in the middle, captioned - she's needy and misses you - only making isagi more eager to get home.

He quietly entered the room seeing you sound asleep. He took a quick shower. he couldn't wait to have you, making him forget to dry his hair off. He crawled on top of you, tucking your hair behind your ear. Watching your relaxed expression in awe.

It was unfortunate that you were asleep because if it weren't for that, isagi would be fucking you silly right now.

But he can't help himself, can he? He had to wait all day just to see you again, only for you to be asleep. And none of it changed the fact that his cock was as hard or even harder than before.

He carefully moved your panties to the side, pulling his erection out and rubbing it against your folds. You squirmed around, not having a single clue what was happening while you were away in dreamland.

He could feel your pussy throbbing around him. Each thrust against your folds made you more wet than before. You moaned, trying to turn away from your desperate bf only for him hold down your shoulders.

"Mm- fuck- yeah.. sorry baby, I couldn't help myself"

He moaned quietly, your nipples poking through the tank top you had on.

He eventually came, admiring the work he created on your pussy. Placing your panties back in place and falling to the side, pulling you into his chest.

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ

ʚɞ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐱𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐢 | ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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girlinterupptedsblog · 28 days ago

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Too Tight

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x virgin!Reader

Warnings: NSFW/18+, first time/virginity loss, explicit sexual content, fingering, intense foreplay, failed penetration attempts, slight pain, overstimulation, frustration, mild dirty talk, soft dom Rafe, emotional tension, mentions of dick pics, obsessive behavior, praise, minor degradation, eventual penetration, language

You were only a few weeks into being Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend when he started really pushing for it. Not just teasing or talking dirty like usual—no, Rafe was begging.

Late night texts. Grabbing your hips every time you kissed too long. Sending you unsolicited, shamelessly proud pictures of himself when he was hard, usually captioned with some version of “this is what you do to me” or “need to be inside you, baby.”

He’d gotten his fingers in you a few times, carefully, slowly. It always ended with you whining and squirming, thighs trembling as he pressed kisses to your cheek and muttered, “not yet, huh?” Even then, you felt too tight for one, let alone something as thick and hungry as Rafe’s cock.

He was obsessed with the idea of taking your virginity—talked about it constantly. “Wanna be the one to ruin you,” he’d whispered once with his lips against your neck, “wanna make you mine, all the way. You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me.”

And now, here you were. In his bed, his hands gliding up your sides as you laid beneath him—nervous, trembling, but nodding anyway.

“I want to,” you whispered. “Tonight.”

Rafe went still for a second, like his brain glitched.

“You serious?”

You nodded again, heart pounding.

He grinned—no, beamed—and kissed you like he couldn’t hold back. “Fuck, baby. I’ve been waiting for this—been thinking about it nonstop.”

He didn’t just jump into it. As much as he was dying for it, Rafe took his time.

He kissed every inch of you. Whispered praise, filth, sweet nothings. His fingers dipped between your thighs and worked you open again, soft and slow, curling up inside you while you moaned into his mouth.

But still—he could feel it. How your walls clamped down on him. How your hips twitched and legs shook.

“You’re still so tight, baby,” he murmured, brows furrowed in focus as he worked his fingers inside. “Fuck. Might have to take it real slow with you.”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “I’m okay. Just do it.”

He grabbed a condom from the drawer—already prepped and ready like he’d been waiting for this night—and rolled it on, biting his lip with an eager little grin.

But the second he lined himself up and started to push in, he hissed.

“Shit. Baby... squeezing me so goddamn hard.”

You whined beneath him, clinging to his shoulders. It hurt. Not terrible, not unbearable—but there was pressure, stretching, and your pussy just couldnt take him.

Rafe cursed under his breath and pulled back. Tried again.

Same thing.

He thrust slowly, carefully—but your muscles locked down like a vice.

“You gotta relax for me, bunny,” he said, voice strained. “You’re too tight—I can’t even get the tip in.”

“I’m trying,” you gasped. “I—I don’t know why I can’t—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re doing fine. But fuck—” He gritted his teeth and stared down between your bodies, watching as your slick coated his length but your walls refused to give.

He tried again. A shallow push.

You clenched.

He groaned—frustrated, hard as hell, sweating.

“This is fucked up,” he muttered. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad and your pussy just—won’t let me in.”

“I want you in,” you whimpered, tears welling. “I really do.”

Rafe leaned down and kissed your jaw, then your cheek. “I know. I know you do. I’m not mad. Just—fuck—I’m so hard I think I might die.”

You laughed a little through the sting of it.

He kept fingering you in between tries, kept whispering praise, kept trying to push inside—and kept getting squeezed out like your body refused to give him that final inch.

Eventually, he grabbed your hips with trembling hands, kissed you again, and pushed slowly, deeply, breathing hard through his nose.

And this time—it worked.

Barely. Painfully. Inching in, bit by bit.

“Fuuuck, finally,” he groaned. “So fucking tight tight, but I’m in.”

You were whimpering, nails digging into his arms, every muscle clenched. It hurt. Not in a terrible way—but enough to make your eyes water.

Rafe kissed the tears off your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re doing so good. So fucking good. Just let me stretch you, alright? Gonna make it feel good soon.”

His thrusts were slow, shallow, careful. Still, you could feel how close he was already—how wound up and desperate he’d been for this moment.

He kept muttering under his breath—praise, filth, broken words.

“So tight—fuck—you’re choking my dick, baby. Gonna cum so fast, god, it’s embarrassing.”

But still he held on. He waited. He made sure you were okay before losing himself in the heat of your body, finally buried deep inside after weeks of begging, teasing, and obsessing.

Eventually, your body started to give. The pain dulled, then melted. The stretch became bearable. And Rafe’s groans turned into full-body shudders as he fucked you for real, panting, needy, almost overwhelmed by it.

“Pussy feels as good as i imagined it" he whispered against your lips. “Gonna ruin it"

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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ni yao de ai — ryomen sukuna.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?” And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?” Then it became bigger and bigger. One after the other, he could not shut up. He was, after all, too damn in love. “Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?” And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 6k words.

Note: i'm working on the actor nanami fic, so here is something for you to enjoy while you wait for that. also, i keep thinking about how sukuna would have been like pro-hero bakugo had he not been dating reader. like, he would be so good at volleyball, but he would be so eager to be blunt about absolutely everything and just be so crass, you know??? anyway, our sukuna managed to not be like that, cause he's #1 lover boy first. enjoy this!!! see you in a couple days!! i love you!!! <3

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THIS WAS NOT OUT OF THE ORDINARY NOWADAYS, FOR YOU TO SIT HERE. Your long-time boyfriend, professional volleyball player Ryomen Sukuna, has always been a bit of a big deal. Well, you try to not make it to be but you both know that it is.

He was undeniably talented, incredibly confident, and dangerously charismatic. But it wasn’t until this past year, when he officially made Japan’s national team and became their standout player, that his star practically exploded.

And with that… came you.

You didn’t ask for it at all. The attention, the headlines, the fan-cams. However, by virtue of loving Sukuna, you had become a fair bit of a participant in his stardom. And it wasn’t like Sukuna did it on purpose.

Well, actually he kind of did. Because if there was one thing about your boyfriend, it was that he never shied away from publicly loving you. In fact, he leaned in. Hard.

And you?

You could never say no to him when he asked. Ever. Because you loved him as he is, and that includes loving you. And if supporting him meant occasionally being pulled into the spotlight alongside him. Well… you’d do it a million times over. That’s how much you loved him.

It started small at first.

Little moments here and there.

Well, he tried to ease you into it.

Like when Sukuna played his first international match for Japan, and you sat quietly in the front row with his family. You thought you were being lowkey, just there to support your love. But the cameras caught you. Multiple times. Your face blown up on the jumbotron — smiling, proud, hands clasped in silent prayer every time he served.

Sukuna noticed you on the screen mid-game, and instead of ignoring it like any normal athlete would. And then he would go on and smirk. Then almost like he can’t help it, he winked at you. On live television. You damn near sank into the earth.

The clip instantly blew up on Twitter.

Everyone on the internet lost its mind.

Suddenly there were viral captions like:

“When the national team’s ace makes eye contact with his girl mid-game and winks?????”

“The way he’s SO unapologetically in love I’m crying.”

“The girlfriend has MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY I’m obsessed.”

And you? You just wanted to disappear.

Ryomen Sukuna, on the other hand, ate it up.

“You see how they love us, babe?” he grinned later that night, scrolling through TikTok edits of you two.

“My love, I was literally just sitting there.”

“Nahhh, you were the cutest girlfriend alive.”

“Stop watching the videos, I look like I was going to hurl because of nervousness.”

“Nope. I’m obsessed with us. Sorry, babe.”

But then it started escalating. Almost too quickly. The more Ryomen Sukuna won on the national stage. And the more the media realized he could not shut up about you. The more you started to become a topic. At first, it was small questions during post-game conferences.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?”

And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?”

Then it became bigger and bigger.

One after the other, he could not shut up.

He was, after all, too damn in love.

“Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?”

And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

And suddenly you were trending on Twitter at every single match.

People started calling you “Japan’s National Team Girlfriend”.

There were TikToks like “POV: You’re dating an Olympic-level volleyball player and he’s obsessed with you”. Someone even made a fan account dedicated to you. Some people are making fan accounts about the two of you. It was just insane.

You were horrified about it.

You never expected this.

Sukuna, however, was thriving.

“Babe, you’re famous now.”

“I am just—this is crazy, my love. I didn’t think this for myself.”

“Too bad. You’re dating a national treasure. That makes you one too.”

“You're the only national treasure here, not me—”

“Wrong. We’re a package deal. We always have been, babe.”

“Well, fuck. Looks like I gotta know how to deal with this.” You sighed, leaning into the couch. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” He says, looking at you with those warm loving eyes. “Very much.”

You sighed, moving close to lean into him. “I love you too. Very much.”

And then, of course, came the Vogue interview soon after that.

Sukuna got asked to do a pre-Olympic feature for Vogue Japan. It was going to be a full-blown video interview and magazine spread to highlight him as the country’s volleyball superstar heading to his first Olympic Games.

You didn’t think much of it at first—until Sukuna casually mentioned. “They wanna do a segment with you, too.”

You froze. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, you know….like those….interviews we watch.” Sukuna said it, like it was the most casual thing. “Like a couples segment. You know. Cute shit.”

“Okay, but this is insane. I don’t think I’m good enough to be interviewed for a magazine like Vogue.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most beautiful and smartest person in the world, like the coolest. How could you not be in the magazines?”

“You’re just saying this cause you’re biased.”

“So?” He snickered, leaning closer to you like a cat to his owner. “Isn’t my opinion the only thing that matters?”

“My love, please—”

“Babe, come on. It’ll be fun. Just some quick questions. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Are you sure you want me there?”

“I always want you with me.” He whispers to you, eyes adoringly looking at you. Almost begging. “Please come with me.…I’ll make it worth your while later.”

You can’t say no to him. Not like this. Not ever. You sighed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

And so, here you are now, right beside your boyfriend, in this studio.

The massive studio hummed with quiet energy. You could feel the subtle buzz of camera equipment, the low chatter of the production crew, and the muffled thuds of footsteps as people flitted around making last-minute adjustments.

Despite the growing tension in the room, there was one person who looked like he couldn’t be less bothered and that was Ryomen Sukuna himself. Your beloved Sukuna is now Japan’s top star volleyball player right now.

The man who was about to debut in his very first Olympic Games. And yet he sat there like he was in his living room, entirely unruffled by the cameras or the fact that the world was about to have their eyes glued on him.

To him, this was just like any other day. It was nothing special, nothing worth that much of a fuzz. It’s media day. Well, of course he was with you. That was always something that made him happy.

But the occasion in itself just as it was, like on all work days.

It truly did make sense for him to be like that.

After all, Sukuna had been through enough media circus for the past few years. With all the pre-game conferences, after-game interviews, constant media coverage during training camps.

By now, cameras had become like background noise to him. Even though he wasn’t the most camera-savvy person, he had long accepted that it came with the job. As much as you have.

Though, you know it was just still so insane. This level of fame was not something you expected to see. But well, what can you do? Your boyfriend is an ace at anything he does, and he always will be.

So here he was now, gold chain glinting under the bright studio lights, his long arm draped casually behind your chair as if he had all the time in the world. His thumb, rough, calloused from years of playing was tenderly brushed the curve of your shoulder absentmindedly, warm and familiar. His long legs were spread obnoxiously wide, his knee brushing against yours like it belonged there.

You, however, were fighting down a giggle like you did when you were both younger. It wasn’t fair how good he looked in front of the camera. Your Sukuna was in his official team Japan tracksuit, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.

His messy pink hair was styled back, just enough for his sharp jawline to be obnoxiously prominent and his signature smug grin made it look like he had already won gold before even stepping onto the court.

And then like he could feel you staring, Sukuna leaned toward you.

You raised a brow as you finally noticed his ruby eyes tender on you.

“What? There something on my face?”

“Bet I can answer faster than you, babe.” His voice dropped low, just for you to hear, the gravel in his tone sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You snorted, glancing at him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t embarrass me, my love.”

His grin sharpened, canines flashing. “No promises, babe.”

You groaned to yourself.

You were so screwed.

He’s competitive even on this.

The interviewer settles in her seat across from you both, a friendly smile on her face. “Alright, we’re rolling!” she calls out. “Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The crew claps behind the camera and you and Sukuna stand up, quickly bowing your heads lowly to everyone in the room, greeting them politely one by one. The crew did the same, with eyes full of awe as they both looked at you two as you sat down.

“Alright, hello everyone!” the interviewer finally smiled, straightening in her seat. “We’re here today with Ryomen Sukuna, Japan’s powerhouse volleyball player heading to his very first Olympic Games — and we’ve got his longtime girlfriend, [Your Name], who is also a Astrophysics researcher joining us today!”

Sukuna perked up a little at that introduction, his grin widening. “Renowned, huh?” He turned to you, his voice dropping low, teasing. “Damn, babe. Are you that famous now, my baby?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting down a smile. “Says the Olympic athlete. Let’s not do this, please.”

The interviewer laughed. “We are so excited to have you both here. Thank you for making time despite your hectic schedules — especially you, [Your Name]. I imagine taking a break from Astrophysics research work isn’t easy?”

“Oh—” you started, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I really shouldn’t have gotten a break. I was actually supposed to have a research advisory today…”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brows raising. “Wait—what?”

You blinked. “…Huh, what?”

“You never told me that. I thought you just got permission.” Sukuna scoffed, his head tilting. “Babe, you really have a major advisory today? How the hell did you get off work?”

“Ohhh, yeah…” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah… funny thing about that.”

The interviewer’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

You hesitated and then bit back a smile. “So… My head researcher’s daughter is actually a huge fan of Sukuna. Like, borderline obsessed.”

Sukuna’s brows shot higher. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” you chuckled sheepishly. “And when they found out I was doing this interview with him, my boss was like, ‘Yeah, just get me his autograph and I’ll look the other way on you missing the advisory.’”

Sukuna immediately cackled. “Really? That’s damn hilarious.”

“Swear to god, it's crazy in there when it comes to you.” you laughed, sinking a little in your seat. “He told me, ‘If you get me a video of him saying hi to my daughter, I’ll even let you off the hook for the paperwork you forgot to pass last week.’”

“Babe.” Sukuna turned his entire body toward you, his grin practically ear-to-ear. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? That’s easy. Just give me a pen later—hell, I’ll record her a whole-ass personalized video.”

You scoffed, blushing. “Oh my god, no—you don’t have to do that much—”

“Nahhh, I gotchu, babe, don’t worry.” Sukuna grinned mischievously, already plotting. “I’ll make her dad look like a hero. Gonna be like: ‘Hey princess, your dad is the real MVP for letting your fave’s girlfriend skip work today to give you content.’”

You smacked his arm, mortified. “Oh my god, you are so insane.”

The production crew lost it almost immediately.

The interviewer covered her mouth, laughing.

“I’m serious!” Sukuna laughed, scarlet eyes crinkling. “You know how many brownie points that’ll get you at work? You could literally ghost them for a week and they’ll still cover for you.”

“Oh my god, stop—”

“And the paperwork you forgot?” Sukuna shot you a playful smirk. “I’ll just sign it with ‘Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend is a genius, give her a raise.’ Boom. Problem solved.”

“RYOMEN SUKUNA.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Sukuna raised his hands in surrender. “Just don’t call me that, okay? You know what my name is.”

The interviewer was crying. “I am so sorry, I can’t breathe—you guys are adorable.”

You slumped in your seat, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never living this down.”

Sukuna just laughed harder, his hand finding your thigh and giving it a warm squeeze. “Nah, you’re good, babe. I’ll make sure you’re employee of the month after this.”

The interviewer, trying to recover. “W-well! We really appreciate you being here, [Your Name]. Seriously. It's not every day we get a literal astrophysicist and an Olympic athlete in the same room.”

“Oh no, I should be the one thankful!” you stammered, still flustered from Sukuna’s antics. “Thank you for having me here with my love. Honestly, it’s such a privilege.”

Sukuna practically preened. “Her love. You guys heard that, right?”

You smacked his arm. “Oh god, don’t even start.”

“Too late, babe.” Sukuna grinned smugly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m riding that high all day. Like, that’s from the one I love right there. I’m riding this forever.”

“You can’t just—” You lower your face to your hands, feeling yourself warm. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t get embarrassed so fast!”

“I’m trying hard not to!”

The interviewer was now fully crying from laughing.

And you? You were about two seconds away from melting into the floor from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

You just can’t believe he’s like this today.

“So, uh, are you guys ready for some quickfire ten-second questions?” She asks as you finally recover, lifting your head.

Sukuna cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Easy. We’ve been together more than a decade or so. I can ace this.”

You scoff. “You’re gonna overthink everything.”

Sukuna feigns offense. “Excuse you? I’m very decisive.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alright, let’s put that to the test. First question: Sukuna, what’s your favorite pre-game meal?”

“Ramen.” he says instantly. Then, a beat later, “Wait. No. Her curry. Yeah, yeah. That one….the spicy one. Final answer.”

Your mouth drops open. “Are you serious? I thought you hated it.”

He grins smugly. “It’s true. I loved it all. Took another plate after you left. Your food hits different, you know?"

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “O–okay, I guess.”

The interviewer beams. “Cute. Okay, [Your Name], what’s his go-to post-game routine?”

“Oh, easy.” you say, straight-faced. “Complaining about his back. Then how he doesn’t like how Gojo Satoru took that line shot at him at a game. Take a ridiculously long, hot shower. He has a beer before we eat dinner. Then aggressively demands my cuddles.”

Sukuna sputters at you. “Aggressively?!”

You arch a brow. “You corner me in the kitchen. Every time.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, his large hand sliding to your knee. “Okay, fine. Fair point.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Alright, Sukuna — who’s the first person you call after a big win?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Her. Always her. And she picks up, even mid-experiment.”

Your chest tightens, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re too much.”

“Hey, I really do call you the most after every match.”

“And after a loss?” she presses.

Sukuna leans slightly toward you, his arm shifting so his hand now rests protectively on your thigh. “Also her. But I’m significantly more annoying.”

You snort. “So much pouting. He becomes, like, unbearable.”

Sukuna gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Unbearable?! I’m mourning, babe!”

“You’re sulking. Just like right now.”

“Same thing!”

The interviewer is practically doubled over laughing. “I love this dynamic. Okay, favorite thing about each other — go.”

Sukuna’s answer is immediate. “Her laugh. Hands down. Best sound in the world.”

Your heart lurches, face instantly heating. “Oh my god, shut up—”

“No, like dead serious, babe.” he interrupts, his smile softening. “Could be having the worst day ever, and if she laughs? I’m good.”

You smack his arm, your face now an embarrassing shade of red. “You’re being gross on camera!”

Sukuna shrugs, unbothered. “Truth is truth, babe.”

The interviewer melts. “Okay, your turn, [Your Name].”

You stammer, still flustered. “Uhh—” you scramble to think of something non-cheesy, but instead, your mouth betrays you. “The way he always warms his hands before touching my face.”

Sukuna freezes. “…Huh?”

You blink. “…What?”

“That’s your favorite thing?” he asks, blinking at you like you’d just dropped a bombshell.

You squirm. “I mean, yeah. You do it all the time. Like, even if we’re just watching a movie or something — you always warm your hands first. It’s cute.”

The grin that spreads across Sukuna’s face is devastating. “You’re so obsessed with me.”

You physically groan. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The interviewer is practically swooning. “This is the cutest thing ever—okay, okay, next one. Sukuna, if you could steal any skill from your girlfriend, what would it be?”

“Her patience.” he deadpans.

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“No, like actually, I really think you mastered it so much.” he insists, leaning forward. “You have no idea how insane she is at staying calm. Like, I’ll be losing my mind over a game or a bad practice, and she’ll just—” he waves his hand, mimicking your nonchalant demeanor, “‘Okay, babe, it’s fine. You’ll win next time.’ Like. What the hell? Where do you get that?”

You’re dying of laughter. “It’s called balance, my love.”

“It’s witchcraft.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Then learn it.”

He laughs at your words. “No, but I’m genuine about this. My girl can sit there and deal with a long day where her research yields bad results and do it again even though it takes long. And come home to me sulking and just know how to be just as patient.”

You looked at him, eyes full of love. “You’re so….I love you. Just a lot.”

He smiles back at you. “Love you too, babe.”

The interviewer sighed, whimsically. “I love you two so much. Okay, final question—and you both have to answer this.” She leans in dramatically. “What’s the very first thing you’ll do if you win gold at the Olympics?”

Sukuna’s cocky grin is instant. “Kiss her. On live TV.”

Your jaw drops “‘kuna, my love! Don’t just say that!”

“What?” he laughs, utterly shameless. “Manifesting, babe.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Your boyfriend snickers. “Yeah, you say that now but you’re gonna make out with me after this—”

“Oh my god, not here!”

The interviewer howls with laughter. “And what about you, [Your Name]?”

You glare at Sukuna but ultimately sigh in defeat. “I guess… I’ll let him.”

Sukuna beams, victorious. “See? Obsessed with me. You were lying earlier, hm? Saying you won’t and now here you are, you admit the truth. I am so vindicated.”

You slap his arm, but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but I am your annoyance. That's my happy life right there, being loved by you like that.”

The interviewer shakes her head, still giggling. “I swear, if you actually win gold and kiss her on live TV, I’ll play this clip everywhere.”

Sukuna’s arm curls around your shoulder, pulling you in. “You better be ready, babe. I’m serious.”

And the terrifying part? You can already picture it. Because you know that he can do it. He can win it all just like that. You could see the gold medal around his neck, the camera zooming in, and Ryomen Sukuna turning straight to you with that same smug grin before sweeping you off your feet.

You purse your lips into a flat line, blushing. “Yeah, yeah…..I’m prepared.”

The interview finally wraps up there.

You’re still a little dazed. The cameras, the lights, the overly intimate questions about your relationship—but Ryomen Sukuna? He still looks happy, still completely unbothered. Like he lives for this. Which, you suppose, he does.

His arm never leaves your shoulder as you stand to shake hands with the Vogue team, his thumb still brushing absentminded circles against your skin. And just as you think you can finally slink away into the background, done with all the attention, Ryomen Sukuna pulls you right back in.

“Babe, c’mon.” he murmurs, his mouth brushing your temple. “Stay for the photoshoot.”

You blink. “What?”

“The shoot. They’re doing my Olympic feature photoshoot now.” He grins like he already knows how this will go. “Hang around for a bit.”

Your eyes narrow. “I thought this part was just you?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you need me here?”

“Moral support.” he says with a teasing smirk. “Also, you look really cute today, and I need you to stand there and be hot while I take photos.”

You gawk. “My love…..”

“What?” He shrugs, pulling you even closer as he starts walking toward the set. “I’m serious. Just stand off to the side, babe. I’ll behave.”

You have exactly zero trust in that promise. But you sigh and let him tug you along anyway. Because at the end of the day, you can’t say no to him. You never could. Not then and certainly not now. That’s just how much you loved the man.

So you do stay. But you try your hardest to stay out of the way. This is just for him, and only for him. You shouldn’t meddle. This isn’t for you. You do not want to get involved. So you make sure he sees you but sees you preoccupied, as you take food from the snack pile and coffee from the coffee machine.

The photoshoot setup is expansive. There were grand lighting rigs, enormous backdrops, a team of stylists fussing over Sukuna’s hair and clothes. He’s already swapped his casual attire for his Japan national team uniform, crisp and iconic in its red and white.

And good god, you were stunned.

He looks obscenely good, even better than normal.

You were just hypnotized.

Like, you can definitely say that it's an actual deity-tier sort of beauty. Tall and lean, the muscles in his arms and thighs practically sculpted. His sharp features and dark tattoos look even more striking against the stark white backdrop. And the way he carries himself. It was that dangerous, unbothered confidence that had the photographers practically swooning as much as you were already.

You stand quietly off to the side, as you stuff yourself with snacks. You were doing your best to stay unnoticed and so far so good. But the moment Sukuna locks eyes with you from across the room, in the middle of his solo shoot, you already know you’re already fucked.

Because he grins. That stupid, sharp, predatory grin.

And you just know something is going to happen.

Because, you know that look on his face.

He’s about to pull some bullshit.

“Alright, Sukuna — tilt your chin up a bit. Perfect, perfect — can we get some more intensity in those scarlet eyes?”

He obliges easily, shifting his stance. For a few moments, you think you’re in the clear. Maybe he’ll actually behave. Maybe he’ll just get through his shoot without doing anything that would just throw you off your horses.

“Hey.” Sukuna suddenly calls out — loud enough for the entire set to hear. His gaze zeroes in on you. “Can she come here real quick?”

Your stomach drops.

The entire team turns to look at you.

Your soul leaves your body.

“I swear to god…..” you hiss, mortified. “No—”

“C’mon, babe.” he grins. “Just real quick. Just one picture.”

The photographer, looking intrigued, asks, “Wait — are you talking about her?”

“Yeah. Of course I’m talking about her.” Sukuna says smoothly. “That’s my girl.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

You try to melt into the floor. “My love, no—”

“Babe, come on.” he says, mockingly sweet, “I thought you were here for moral support? Come on, just one picture. I won’t even ask them to include it in the spread.”

The team just absolutely loves what’s happening right now. They’re already whispering to each other, eyes lighting up with interest. One of the assistants, who was clearly a hopeless romantic, suddenly gasps, “Oh my god, can we get her in a couple of shots?”

“No, no, no you don’t have to.” you stammer, mortified. “I-I’m not part of the shoot—”

“You are now, babe.” Sukuna smirks, already striding over to grab your hand.

“My love, I’m not even— I didn’t sign anything—”

“Babe, relax.” he murmurs, tugging you right into the center of the set like it’s nothing. “You’re not doing a solo shoot. Just stand next to me. That’s it.”

The photographer, gleeful, immediately jumps in: “Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes. Let’s do a few couple shots. Just casual. We can get a few ‘power couple’ frames, I love this.”

“No, please, it’s not fair to you all or him.” you say, panicked. “It’s his shoot, I’m not supposed to—”

Sukuna grins down at you. “C’mon, babe. What’s one photo?”

You glare. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He tugs you even closer. “C’mon, let me show off my pretty girlfriend a little. Please?”

“…I hate you so much.”

The next twenty minutes are the most unhinged photoshoot of your life.

It starts simple. Ryomen Sukuna standing tall in his Olympic uniform, with you just casually next to him. He’s still smug and composed, while you try your best to look like you belong there. But then it escalates, as it always does with him.

“Can you put your arm around her waist?” the photographer asks.

Sukuna immediately complies, almost too gleefully, you might add, as he was pulling you flush against his side, his arm curling snug around your lower back.

“Actually, can you lean down and nuzzle into her neck a bit? Just natural intimacy.”

You really could feel your soul just saying a hail mary and saying goodbye for good. Your Sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. His mouth brushes your temple, his nose drags against your skin, and he actually whispers in your ear: “Told you you’d be in this shoot, babe.”

“I hate you so much, like a lot. Right now.” you grit, cheeks burning.

“You love me, a lot. I can tell.” he grins. “Like look at that bright eyed love!”

“Can we get one with her in front of him? Like, you know, back to his chest?” The director suddenly says.

You barely have time to react before Sukuna’s already wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. His long fingers splay warmly across your stomach, deliberately making the pose look far too intimate.

The camera shutter goes crazy.

And then—the final blow from the director:

“Okay, for the last shot—Sukuna, can you kiss her?”

Your brain explodes. “WHAT—”

“Ohhh, I think I can.” Sukuna drawls, thrilled. “Hang on.”

“I swear to god, you can’t just—my love!”

Too late for any arguments, he’s made up his mind. His hand slides up to your jaw, his thumb tilting your chin just slightly. And then, without a hint of shame, he leans down and kisses you. Right there. On the set. With the cameras flashing like crazy.

It’s not even a small kiss. It’s full and lingering. It’s passionate and hot and burning. It was the type of kiss that only belongs to you two. Yet you don’t push him away or pull away. Instead, you let his hand cup the edge of your face, his mouth molds against yours, and you feel his stupid grin against your lips.

The photographer practically screams. “Oh my god, that was too good! That was just perfect!”

You finally part from him. But it took you a bit before you were back down to earth from the spellbound trip to love. “You are so annoying, I swear!”

“Babe.” he says, smug as hell. “I think we just sold out this magazine issue.”

“I’m going to kill you, that was too passionate! That’s just for us—"

“Please. You’re gonna frame these photos later.”

“Ugh, no I won’t!”

“You so will.”

And when the photos do come out, everything just shifts in the world. The entire internet loses its mind over Japan’s national volleyball ace and his head-over-heels-in-love girlfriend like he always is, you realize, miserably, that Ryomen Sukuna was absolutely right.

Because you do, in fact, frame one of the photos.

Well, almost all the photos you got.

And what does Ryomen Sukuna do?

He never shuts up about it.

══════════════════

epilogue

The group chat video call came in less than five minutes after the interview aired. You barely had time to process the fact that the clip of you and Sukuna had already exploded on social media — like a firestorm-level viral.

Your phone was pinging nonstop with texts, notifications, and Twitter mentions of people collectively losing their minds over “Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF” like it was the rom-com of the century. Like it was the most important trope out there.

And just when you thought you could quietly crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment…

Incoming Video Call: “Menaces + Nanami (we tolerate him)”

“Oh my god no—”

“Babe, answer it!” Sukuna grinned, already stretching his long arm to grab your laptop. “I need to see what they’re about to say.”

“Sukuna, I’m literally not ready for this shit—”

“You’re literally adorable, babe. Don’t worry!” Sukuna smirked, already clicking Accept. “Let me enjoy my W.”

The call connected. Chaos immediately erupted.

Gojo Satoru (Camera OFF): “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Geto Suguru (Camera ON):

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Nanami Kento (Camera ON):

“…Are you all seriously screaming?”

Itadori Yuuji (Camera ON):

“BROOOOOO THEY WENT SO HARD IN THAT INTERVIEW OH MY GODDDD!”

Fushiguro Megumi (Camera ON, Visibly Unamused):

“…I’m logging off.”

Gojo Satoru (Camera ON, Appearing Out of Nowhere):

“NO YOU’RE NOT, MEGUMI— OH MY GOD YOU TWO WERE INSANE.”

You immediately face planted onto the table, groaning. “Kill me. Just kill me now.”

“Babe, why? You were really cool!” Sukuna laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “This is literally my proudest moment.”

“Oh my god, this is just so—” You groaned.

“Bro. Bro, oh my god.” Itadori was crying. “Sukuna. The way you said ‘Her love. You guys heard that, right?’ I— I fell off my couch cheesing, bro. You haven’t changed!”

“RIGHT?!” Gojo practically screeched. “And then he was going like ‘I’ll get you employee of the month, babe.’ I almost died! This was so—I can’t even explain it!”

Sukuna was thriving. His grin stretched wide, his canines flashing. “Ayyyeeee, you finally got it Gojo! You got someone, so you understand right? You see how I held her down? Boyfriend of the year.”

“You really are, bro!”

“My love, stoppppp!” you wailed dramatically.

“Nah, babe. Let me cook from boyfriend to husband!”

“Okay but REAL TALK. [Your Name]. Explain to me why your head researcher just casually let you off work because his daughter’s a fan of Sukuna.Also, how the hell are there fans of Sukuna?” Geto Suguru says as he munches on his popcorn.

“Taking offense to that last part, Geto.”

“Hahaha, I don’t care!”

You groaned harder. “I really don’t know. But it worked. I mean, people are asking me for Sukuna’s autographs for their kids at the research facility.”

“No, cause that’s wild, actually.” Suguru laughed. “Your literal superior was like, ‘Get me his autograph and you can skip work.’ That’s insane. I wish I could do that.”

“Well you could had you gone to the same research dept as me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna work there. Your deadlines are crazy.”

“Hey, my influence is really good for her right now!” Sukuna grinned, leaning into you smugly. “I’m basically her office’s MVP. They should name a telescope after me, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s not what I'm working on right now! That’s the other team!”

“Eh, same thing.”

“The Ryomen Sukuna Space Observatory, nice ring to it.” Gojo said dreamily. “Iconic.”

“Guys, really.”

“I would like to formally request to be excluded from this narrative.” Nanami Kento deadpans as he puts away his paperwork.

“Oh shut up, Kento. Are you still acting tsundere after all this time?” Gojo cackled. “You enjoyed it.”

“No. I did not.”

“Then why’d you text me ‘how did Sukuna–san improve in comedy? he’s hilarious.’ right after it aired?”

Nanami froze. “I did not do that—”

“YOU DID TOO!” Itadori gasped loudly. “I saw the receipts, senpai. You can’t just lie about that!”

“Lies.”

“Don’t deny it!”

“I will deny it, there’s no proof.”

“…Sukuna–senpai, I have to say, you being in love still after all this time really made me cringe.”

Gojo Satoru lost it. He almost fell off his chair, laughing. “That’s so—what the, that’s so—”

“See? People do cringe when you go lovey-dovey!” You tease him, and then laugh as you lean against him.

“Wow, didn’t know that’s your true feelings about me, babe.” Sukuna scoffed, faking offense as he playfully rolled his eyes. “No love for the Olympic boyfriend, huh?”

“You sounded like a sickeningly in love golden retriever, and it was disturbing.”

Sukuna snorted. “If I still had the privilege to order you one hundred laps, I would.”

“Hm, but you don’t.”

“All because you’re jealous. How’s your date yesterday? Bad like last time?”

Megumi recoiled like he’d been shot. “Senpai, that’s so—”

“Nahhh, I get it, Megs. Cause I’d be mad too if I was third-wheeling greatness like this, while I’m waiting on Cupid to give me luck.” Sukuna gestured grandly to you and himself. “It’s hard out here.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t be mad, bro. Just manifest your own [Your Name].”

“I swear to god, senpai.”

“Again, manifest. Hell, I’ll even help you. My sister’s into you—”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay but can we talk about how senpai just easily offers the autograph AND the video like it's nothing?” Yuuji enthusiastically says, smiling from ear to ear.

“REAL! Like, this is so crazy. ” Gojo gasped. “He just casually said ‘I’ll make your boss look like a hero, babe.’”

“Bro is so down bad, man.” Geto snickers, drinking his beer. “Everyone’s losing their shit everywhere.”

“And then he was like, ‘yeah don’t worry, I’ll help sign your paperwork.’’” Yuuji grows louder, more enthusiastic than before. “I can’t believe people are seeing it more closely like this. You’re a lucky lady, senpai!”

“Yeah, who can say they have such a long loving thriving relationship, no?” Gojo teases, as he leans on the screen. “LIke, people are jealous!”

“Guys, please!” you howled, your head hitting the table as your face turned scarlet. “PLEASE STOP—”

“SU-KU-NAAAAA–SENPAIIIIII!” Yuuji screamed, clapping. “You’re built differently, man. This is why you’re not bitchless!”

“This is why you follow in my footsteps, Itadori.” Sukuna laughs proudly. “You will only end your suffering if you follow me. That goes for you, Nanami, Fushiguro.”

“No thanks.” Nanami and Fushiguro say, almost at the same time.

“Nah, cause now that I think about it….my girl’s gonna expect me to do well too, Sukuna.” Gojo says, rubbing his chin. “That’s such a cruel move, Sukuna!”

“Hey, I love my girl as easily as breathing.” Sukuna raises his beer can, like cheers. He grins. “Good luck. I’m here if you need tips.”

“…The fact that this interview is already at 4 million views is baffling.” Nanami whispers as he looks at his phone. “It was just released an hour ago.”

Your head snapped up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh yeah, it’s viral now.” Megumi deadpanned. “It’s already trending. Twitter’s obsessed with you two.”

“Yup, yup.” Itadori confirmed. “Hashtag ‘Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF’ is number one right now.”

“YOU’RE LYING.”

“Dead serious.”

“My love.” you whirled on him, horrified. “What did you do?”

Sukuna, entirely unbothered: “Won.”

“Bro, people are literally shipping you two like it’s a Netflix rom-com.” Gojo snickers, sighing. “I want mine to be like that.”

“Right?” Suguru agreed. “And they’re already calling you ‘The only loverboy to ever loverboy’ which is kinda crazy to say about Ryomen Sukuna.”

Yuuji sighed. “But it fits, don’t you think? He loves his girl.”

Sukuna beamed. “As they should.”

You were spiraling. “I can’t go back to work like this. They’re gonna tease me—”

“No, babe, you’re good.” Sukuna said smugly. “You literally got immunity. They’re too obsessed with me now.”

“OH MY GODDDD.”

“…So when exactly did you two sign up for a publicized rom-com?” Nanami asks.

“Bro, right?” Gojo laughed. “Next thing you know Sukuna’s proposing on live TV after winning gold.”

Sukuna gasped dramatically. “Wait. That’s fire, actually.”

“Hey, don’t you dare!” you screamed.

“Imagine it, though!” Gojo egged on. “He wins gold. Camera zooms in. Sukuna pulls you onto the court. Boom. Proposal.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Gojo Satoru!”

Geto cackles. “Nah, once you give Sukuna ideas and he likes it, he’s not gonna change his mind.”

“Write that down, bro!” Itadori gasped.

“Oh, I will!” Sukuna grinned.

“Ryomen Sukuna, I swear to god—”

“Hey, hey, slow down. That’s not my name.”

“I’m not stopping until you say you won’t do that.”

“Here me out, let me cook on this idea, like this is a really good idea. Come on!”

“No!”

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