#link to his profile in the comments!

[dailytogachako]

ochako and toga posted on twitter by one of the boku no hero animators during the release of the sixth season and the animation of episode 123!

[buckevantommy]

another bucktommy tiktok au: 🖼️🖌️🎨👨‍🎨📲💬

Buck went from viewer to fan to mod for artist!Tommy's tiktok Lives where he makes sure the chat is a safe space and also posts questions for people to talk about - which also gives Tommy something to talk about, because he gets nervous talking about anything besides the technical aspect of painting, but he's trying to open up more (perhaps something he learned in therapy being: being open and honest and letting his personality out). so Buck asks questions and mentions his latest research binges, and Tommy always latches onto his ins and it eventually loosens him up enough that he's comfortable talking more about the peace and self-care aspect of painting and art, the beauty and introspective parts of it.

needless to say Buck is falling for Tommy the more he gets to know about him (and he doesn't even realise it yet..)

[lazaruspiss]

done w social media aus where they all have that [name] [sexuality] [age] [pronouns] format. need 2 make my own parody pages for them. diversify bio styles

[n4b3]

I JUST FOUND A GUY CHEATING ON TINDER???????!

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

DISCORD BOYFRIEND KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. this is just an amalgamation of all my ideas

könig has never been one for putting his face on social media. even before the scars that pull at the skin of his cheek, reshaping his expression in ways he’s never fully grown used to, the idea of being seen, really seen, has never sat right with him. there’s a certain comfort in anonymity, in keeping the world at arm’s length. easier that way. safer.

that unease, paired with what some might consider his more nerdy interests, means he gravitates toward spaces like discord rather than the highly curated feeds of instagram or facebook. there, he doesn’t have to worry about photos or videos— just a username, and a presence in text.

his handle is simple: king 👑. a nod to the name he’s carried for so long, stripped of rank, stripped of weight.

even in the server where he’s most active, he keeps things vague, blending into discussions about games, military history, or whatever niche interest has caught his attention that week.

every now and then, he’ll let something slip— a mention of deployment, an offhand comment, disappearing for months at a time, only to return with a sudden burst of activity. some put the pieces together. most don’t. and könig prefers it that way. it’s easier to let them think he’s just another guy with spotty internet.

your first interaction is rather simple in retrospect.

he’s back after weeks of recon, shaking off the mission like dirt from his boots, easing into the familiarity of a gaming server he’s called home for years.

it’s not a small server, so new people come and go. he does his usual routine— an automated, slightly impersonal welcome but what he doesn’t expect is the sheer enthusiasm in return.

“hi!!!!”

he stares at the message for a second, counting the exclamation marks. three. four. five? a small smile tugs at his lips before he even realizes it.

it doesn’t take long before you’re at his metaphorical side, sending a friend request before the conversation even shifts from your college courses.

the older members tease him. something about his last deployment scrambling his head enough to take a newbie under his wing. he lets them talk. he doesn’t mind.

soon enough, you’re in his private messages, dramatically lamenting your latest loss in a game he’s only vaguely familiar with. könig listens— well, reads— as you rant, words spilling out at a rapid-fire pace, interspersed with keyboard smashing and increasingly incoherent frustration.

he’s not much for new releases, preferring to sink his teeth into a single game for months on end, grinding away until mastery is muscle memory. still-

one evening, without preamble, he sends you a link. his profile. in your game.

the response is immediate. ‘king!!! 🥺’ you type, followed by an onslaught of keyboard mashing that takes up half his screen.

he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. he wonders if you know how easy it is to make him grin like an idiot.

the calls are… an unexpected development.

könig doesn’t make a habit to join server calls. ever. it’s not even about anxiety, not really, just preference. too many voices, too much noise. he never expected to be comfortable enough with anyone to want to be in a call, let alone initiate one.

but when you start gaming together, it becomes a necessity. typing mid-match isn’t exactly efficient, and you’re the first to point that out.

“okay, listen, king, i am not about to lose another ranked match just because you take five years to type ‘behind you.’” he huffs, amused, but relents.

soon enough, calls become second nature— no longer tied to gaming, no longer requiring an excuse. you always ask first, polite thing that you are, and könig always agrees. sometimes it’s an unspoken invitation, a simple “call?” sent in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he beats you to it, pressing the button before he can think too hard about it.

one time, it’s you who calls. he answers on the first ring.

“are you- wait.” you pause, listening. there’s a distinct, rhythmic thud-thud-thud in the background. not footsteps, but something heavier, more controlled. “are you on a treadmill?”

“mm.” his voice is steady, unaffected. a quiet confirmation.

you gasp, and he can practically hear the amusement brewing in your tone. “oh my god! you actually work out? i thought you were lying.”

he snorts, breath hitching slightly as he adjusts his pace. “why would i lie about that?”

“i don’t know! you just- i mean, you sit at your desk all day, playing the same game for hours, and you’re always online at weird times-”

“you are describing yourself,” he points out.

“shut up.”

there’s a pause, and then, with the kind of mischief that only comes from knowing exactly how to push his buttons, you add, “prove it.”

he slows to a walk, swiping open his phone. a moment later, you receive a picture. him, flexing. the lighting is dim, but you can still make out the cut of his forearm, the solid shape of his bicep. just to humor you, he throws up a peace sign.

“not stolen from pinterest.”

you burst into laughter so sudden and bright that he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.

you learn what it means to miss könig pretty early on.

it happens suddenly. one day, he’s there, active as usual, sending the occasional meme, idling in voice chat even if he’s not talking. the next? radio silence. not even a ‘typing…’ indicator.

at first, you don’t think much of it. maybe he’s sleeping in. maybe he’s busy. time zones are weird. it’s fine.

but then a whole day passes. then another. you check his status— nothing. not offline, not do not disturb, just… gone.

curiosity turns into concern, and before you can think better of it, you ask in the server.

“hey, anyone heard from king?”

the response is casual. unbothered. “oh, dude’s probably deployed again.”

you blink. reread the message. “deployed?”

“yeah, king’s military.”

there’s no warning for the way that statement knocks the air from your lungs.

military? as in, real-life combat? as in, war zones and danger and actual life-or-death situations?

you stare at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to even say to that.

he doesn’t resurface for weeks.

you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until it’s gone. his absence is loud in the quiet moments of your day, in the spaces where a message from him would normally be.

you check the server out of habit, catching yourself before you can search his username. it’s stupid, you think. you barely know him. he’s just some guy from a discord server.

but the worry lingers.

and then, one day, just like that— he’s back.

his return is as unceremonious as his disappearance.

no dramatic entrance, no fanfare. just a simple “hello.”

you see it the moment he sends it. your stomach flips.

before you can stop yourself, you send a private message. “you’re alive.”

a moment passes. then— “yes.”

you frown. “you were gone for weeks.”

“i know.”

frustration bubbles up. “you could’ve said something.”

“i couldn’t.”

you hesitate, fingers tightening around your phone. you don’t know what you were expecting. an explanation? reassurance? but it’s clear you’re not getting one.

but then, a follow-up message. one that feels heavier, more careful. “i’m sorry.”

and just like that, the irritation dissolves.

it’s strange, the way things slip back into place after that.

he doesn’t talk about it, and you don’t ask. but something shifts. after that deployment, könig starts telling you when he’ll be gone. nothing in detail, really. just a simple, “i’ll be away for a bit.”

(it means everything.)

slowly, you get used to it. the rhythm of his presence and absence, the way your conversations pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed at all.

it goes on for months. this… thing between the two of you. könig doesn’t hesitate to call it friendship, though he knows, knows, it’s something else entirely.

something with edges softer than companionship, something that lingers in the pauses between conversation, in the way you had whispered his real name under your breath when he revealed it to you.

he doesn’t rush to name it. doesn’t push. he lets it simmer until it feels inevitable.

in the end, it’s you who breaks first. technically. not that he’s keeping score. not that he would ever rub it in your face, especially when he was a mere day away from asking the very same thing.

it starts with a message. no preamble, no buildup. just a simple: hey, what are we?

könig sees it and reacts before thinking. presses the call button so fast his thumb practically smashes the screen. it rings once, twice—

“you didn’t even ask.” your voice comes through, half exasperated, half amused.

“didn’t want to give you time to unsend.” his own voice is steady, but his heart is anything but.

you huff. “bold assumption.”

“not really.”

a pause. he hears you shift, fabric rustling, the sound of you settling in. something warm and slow uncoils in his chest at the familiarity of it.

“so,” you start, hesitant. “what’s your answer?”

könig exhales, tipping his head back against his pillow. “do you want the truth?”

“obviously.”

he hums, considering. in reality, he’s known the truth for a while now. probably before you even realized it yourself.

“i like you,” he says, simple, sure. then, because he knows you, because he knows your deflections, your habit of teasing when you get nervous, he adds, “and i’m very aware you like me back.”

you sputter. “that’s a bold assumption-”

“not really,” he repeats, smug this time.

you groan, but you’re laughing, and it sends something bright flickering through him.

könig doesn’t ask for nudes. not once. he flirts, he teases, but never pushes. he knows your boundaries, respects them, never even hints at wanting more. if anything, he’s careful. too careful, sometimes. like he’s afraid of crossing a line you haven’t even drawn.

so when you finally send something, it’s your choice.

the first picture is tame. barely anything. it's a shot of your thighs, soft and warm in the low light of your room. nothing scandalous. nothing too revealing. but the second you hit send, your stomach twists with nerves.

könig sees it immediately. you watch the typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. and then— “fuck.”

you grin. “good?”

“you have no idea.”

it only escalates from there.

könig never requests more. but when you send it, when you want to send it, his reaction is worth it. he worships you through the screen, tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wishes he could touch you.

“pretty,” he texts once, attached to a voice message.

you press play. his breath is ragged, like he’s just run a mile. “pretty thing,” he repeats, voice tinged with something almost reverent. “you’re going to ruin me, love.”

the first time he sends you something, it takes him forever to work up to it.

you don’t ask for it. wouldn’t dream of pushing him into something he’s not comfortable with. könig isn’t shy, necessarily, but he’s private. you know that by now.

so when, out of nowhere, a picture pops up on your screen, your brain short-circuits.

it’s cropped carefully, but there’s no mistaking what you’re looking at— bare skin, broad shoulders, his stomach flexed just slightly.

“you like?” he texts after a minute.

you swallow hard. “yes.”

“good.” and then— “more?”

you bite your lip. “please.”

könig gets bolder after that.

he sends more. never too much, always teasing, always just enough to leave you wanting. sometimes it’s his hands, sometimes it’s his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones, the waistband of his sweatpants hanging just low enough to make your mouth water.

one night, he sends a voice message instead. you press play.

at first, all you hear is his breathing. then, slowly, softly— your name, whispered through a noise that makes heat bloom low in your stomach.

“wish you were here,” he murmurs. “wish you could see what you do to me.”

the actual nudes don’t take long. not ar all. you’re both desperate. buzzing. könig’s the one who caves first.

it starts with your text. 10 p.m., the hour where inhibitions slip through grasping fingers like sand.

“wanna see your cock so bad, könig…” you murmur to your propped phone, cheek pressed to your pillow, another one stuffed against your chest like it might replace the hollow ache between your ribs. a distraction. a poor substitute.

on the other side of the screen, he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. fingers tensing, then flexing, like he needs something to hold onto. “love-” your whine cuts through before he can even think. instinctive. needy. his stomach clenches. “okay, okay. as long as you're sure.”

his heart pounds as he opens his photos. he doesn’t exactly collect dick pics, but there are a few kept locked away, private albums, a passcode he suddenly fumbles to enter.

three minutes. that’s how long it takes to choose the best one. the right angle. the right lighting. enough to make your breath hitch when you see it.

he hits send before he can overthink it, then leans back, phone balanced on his thigh, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

your phone buzzes. the photo pops up. you blink, breath hitching sharp in your throat.

“oh my god.” the words spill out of you before you can even think to stop them. “könig…” you stare at the screen, gaze locked on the thick, heavy length of him. the way it curves slightly, resting against his thigh like it’s weighed down by its own sheer mass. your breath stutters.

“you're so fucking big.” it barely registers that you've said it aloud.

“yeah? you like it?

“like it?” you shoot back. “i want it inside me.”

his breath leaves him in one harsh exhale. he shifts, hips rolling involuntarily like he can feel your words on his skin.

“can i see you too?” he sounds so polite. and then, as if that wasn’t enough to twist the knife deeper— “please?”

your stomach flips. you bite your lip, already reaching for your phone camera, the need to show him everything burning through you like wildfire.

your breath comes shallow as you slip your hand lower, phone steady in the other. the need is a pulse under your skin, throbbing, insistent. you pull the covers back just enough, the cool air prickling against the heat between your thighs.

the camera catches everything. your slightly parted thighs, your swollen clit, the wetness gushing out of your hole. it feels like baring a secret you’ve never told anyone. you hesitate for half a second, heart racing, then hit send.

the second the message disappears from your screen, it hits you— you just sent that to him.

on his end, könig freezes. the photo loads slow, torturous, and when it finally pops up, he feels his whole body tense, blood rushing south so fast it’s dizzying. “f-fuck, i need to be inside of you-”

sex with könig, if you can even call it that, at first, sneaks up on you. you never thought you’d be the kind of person who got into this. sending texts that made your face burn, leaving voice messages you could barely listen back to without cringing. but with him, it’s different. easier. less embarrassing because it’s him.

still, going from nudes to actual phone sex takes some time.

“gonna sleep,” könig texts you once, attached to a blurry photo of his bed.

“alone?” you send back, teasing.

the typing bubble appears. then disappears. then— “obviously.”

you grin at your phone, satisfied. but then— “but i could use some company.”

you stare at the message longer than you’d like to admit.

in the past, you hadn't told him how many times you’d dreamt of him because you thought you'd scare him off, kept your mouth shut about the images that haunted you at night, of his hands pinning you down, his mouth at your throat.

didn't tell him that you had woken up panting, arousal between your thighs, könig’s name on your lips too many times. didn't tell him that you had pressed your hand against your clit during your calls, to the sound of his voice, to his laugh, to the quiet, wrecked groans he sometimes lets out when he stretches after a workout.

but you wanted to.

and tonight, you would.

the conversation turns slow. lazy. heavy with something unspoken.

“you sound tired,” könig murmurs, voice warm. he’s always like this late at night. soft, unhurried, like he’s sinking into the sound of you.

you swallow hard. your skin feels too hot, too tight. “i’m not.”

a pause. then, lower— “what is it, love?”

you hesitate, pressing your lips together. it’s too much. too embarrassing. but he knows something is different.

“talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i had a dream about you.”

the silence stretches.

you can hear him inhale. you bite your lip. force yourself to continue. “i think about you. when i-” you stop. you can’t say it. can’t admit it.

könig exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to steady himself. “when you what?”

your stomach is a knot of nerves. but you want this. want him. so you take a breath, close your eyes. “when i touch myself.”

his breath stutters.

“fuck.” the word is almost a groan. your pulse hammers, blood rushing through your ear as heat pools in your stomach.

“könig,” you whisper.

he exhales, whispers his next words like a beg, “say it again.”

you swallow. “i touch myself to you.”

“i do too.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

“i-” he cuts himself off with a quiet curse, like he's frustrated with himself for hesitating. “i touch myself to you too.”

your breath catches. heat blooms in your chest, spreading down your spine. “könig-”

“all the time.” his voice is lower now, raw, like he's aching with it. “when i can't sleep. when you're on call with me, laughing, teasing me. when i wake up hard in the middle of the night and can’t stop thinking about stuffing you full.”

your body is burning again, despite the aftershocks still rolling through you. you're about to choke out a reply when you hear it— the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of bedsprings, the wet slide of skin on skin.

“are you-”

a sharp inhale. “yes.”

“let me hear you,” you whisper, thinking about his pretty, pretty cock. uncut, soft skin stretched over the flushed head, the way it would slide back when he’s fully hard, revealing the deep pink of his leaking tip. the veins that wind down the length, standing out against the pale skin

there's a pause, a hitch in his breath. then, slowly— “okay.”

there's a small rustle, könig adjusting himself on the bed. the faint sound of him pumping lotion on his hand. a quiet sigh. and then, a low grunt as the warmth of his palm wraps around his cock.

könig looks down at his hand, eyes half-lidded, hips bucking up in small thrusts. he imagines your pussy instead of his fist, hot and tight and so fucking warm, fluttering around his length as he pushes in, spearing you open with a cock too big for your little cunny.

he knows you’d cry for him, little gasps and hiccupped moans, squirming beneath him as he bullies his cock deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the slick, warm clutch of your cunt.

“a-ah- fuck, ah-”

your breath stutters at the sounds, hips grinding against your palm. “wish i could see you.”

“on cam?”

you groan, squeezing your thighs around the pillow in-between your legs, grinding your clit against the material softly. “yes, please..”

fuck, you're so polite.

[iloveschiaparelli]

guys i have a confession to make i fed the troll on reddit today im so sorry

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[fragmentedblade]

"The Creation Furnace provides energy to the Artisanship Commission and ensures its normal operation. Rumor has it that the energy stored in the Creation Furnace is heliobus, an elemental being. A thousand years ago, the heliobi unsuccessfully attacked Xianzhou and was thus ordered to supply energy to the Xianzhou Alliance forever".

[enderlovez]

It's Romantic

Spencer Reid x Female Reader WORD COUNT: 980

Summary: When Spencer learns that his girlfriend is also an avid reader after visiting her apartment for the first time, something she's kept from him for reasons unclear, he is ecstatic. And a little concerned, when he reads one of your 'romance' books.

Content Warning: reader gets embarrassed, your book has a sex scene in it, reader bites Spencer once, possibly shy!reader?

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer has never once been to your apartment. You're spend most of your time at his place, occasionally spending the night with him when you feel like it, and he loves having you there with him... But quite frankly, he's curious to see the place you spent most of your nights.

How you've decorated, how you've make it comfortable for you. Yet every time it comes up, the topic of, at some point, going over to your apartment, you change the subject, or insist on going to his.

'Why would we go to my dirty old apartment when we can just go to yours?' you'd asked on multiple occasions.

He doesn't understand what could be so terrible about the place you live, so disgusting that you wouldn't want him to see it?

Well, tonight, he wants to find out.

"Why don't we go to your apartment?" he asks quietly, swinging your linked hand between the both of you as you walk down the street.

You side-eye him, opening your mouth to give him the usual spiel, but he beats you to it, pulling you to a stop and pressing a finger to your mouth.

"Come on, Y/N, we've been dating for almost a year and I still haven't seen where you live!" he states matter-of-factly.

"Why do you need to see my apartment?" you ask, a defensive tone lingering in your words, your voice rising a few octaves. He doesn't need to be a profiler to realize you're nervous.

He sighs lovingly and wraps and arm around your shoulder, guiding you down the sidewalk once again. "Because I love you, and I'm curious to know where you disappear to when you leave me every night."

"I don't leave you every night, though."

"Okay, almost every night, then," he corrects himself. "Whatever you're worried about, trust me when I say there's no reasons to be."

You know he would never judge you for anything, right? Especially not when you're so wound up about this whole thing.

He peeks down at you again, using his free thumb to gently pull your bottom lip from between your teeth.

"Look, if you're really set on me never seeing your apartment, that's fine, I'll never see it," he breathes, not wanting to cause you actual stress about it. "I didn't mean to upset you, just wanted to know more about you."

"No," you snap back immediately, hesitation swimming around your eyes as you reach up and take his hand in yours again, "you didn't upset me at all, Spence. You... you can come see my apartment."

"Sweetheart, if you don't want me to—"

"I do want you to," you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the side of his hand. "I want you to see it. Please, come see my apartment, Spence."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Your apartment is lovely.

Fairy lights and posters decorating the walls, all the furniture worn and cozy, and it smells so distinctly you. It's exactly what he would expect for you, actually, something just as sweet and cozy as you are.

The only thing he didn't expect was the tall wooden bookshelf in your living room, filled with books, none of which he's read. You don't have it organized in any particular order — actually, you don't have them organized at all.

"I didn't know you liked to read," he commented softly, plucking one of your novels from the shelf and flipping it over to read the back. How could he be romantically involved with you for almost a year, and not know something so simple about your day to day life?

You don't say anything, blushing from head to toe as he picks up another one of your books. He looks back at you when he finds the one he gifted you a few months back.

He never actually thought you would read it, simply wanting you to have something in your apartment that reminded you of him, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that it was worn — more than any of the other books.

Spencer doesn't need to know you started reading it the night he gifted it to you, or that you spent every free second away from him reading it, or that you've already read it two times at this point.

It's obviously not something you would usually read, but it's from Spencer, so it's different. You loved every second of it because of him.

He puts the books he's holding down and grabs another random one from the shelf, settling into your pastel-rainbow-blanket-covered sofa, and flipping open to a random page...

Only to see that the two main characters of this particular book are having sex. Very descriptive sex, he might add, red coloring his face as he gently closes the book again and slowly turns his eyes to you.

Your face is a similar shade of crimson, knowing exactly what he's just opened the book up to find, as you snatch it away from him and put it back onto the shelf.

"Is this why you didn't want me coming here?" he asks, somehow managing to keep his voice steady — for your sake, since you're clearly embarrassed about the situation.

You drop down onto the sofa beside him, pressing your face into the soft bend between his shoulder and his neck, and just barely nod.

"You know I'd never judge you for anything, Lovely," he assures you, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of your head, "but that might just be the most vulgar thing I've ever read."

"It's romantic," you argue without moving your face away from his neck, gently biting down on the skin there as if to reprimand him.

"Alright," he agrees with you, too easily for your liking, but you don't say anything more, "if you say it's romantic, then it has to be."

[gghostwriter]

A Series of Happenstance

Spencer Reid x House!Daughter!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer loathed to see you and the one time he pleaded to Trope:Angst; think post Tobias Spencer Reid w.c: 5.2k Disclaimer: I am no way a medical personnel, least of all a psychiatrist so there will be medical inaccuracies A/N: this is part one of my house!daughter series and it’s angst, babes. Spencer is just mean and lashing out here which is totally understandable. It also took a while since writing such heavy pieces of fiction takes a toll on me but I hope, especially to the ones who were excited for this series, love it still. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first meeting

Spencer didn’t want to be here—here being in this cream colored, four cornered room, facing off the ultimate nemesis of profiler. Not an unsolvable case, not an unsub, but rather a psychiatrist contracted by the FBI for psych evaluation. 

He was fine, he insisted to Hotch. He can compartmentalize well, he rationalized to Gideon. He just needed rest and the comfort of his own bed, he stated to the whole team. But protocols were protocols and his unit chief was a stickler to rules especially when it involved the care for his team. 

That was how he found himself on a Tuesday afternoon, sitting in silence and watching the ticking of the clock as if it was the most interesting piece of art there was. 

The tension was stifling. Spencer could almost see it tainting his vision red. Biting the insides of his cheek, he wanted to keep everything in. 

No, he needed to. 

He knew he was being rude, petulant even but for once, he didn’t have it in him to care. He didn’t know you. You were a complete stranger being paid by the government to report back any findings that could keep him out of the field. It wasn’t fair. You were just accepting the call of duty but you bore the brunt of his ire and hostile gaze. 

In the normal setting, he would have found you intriguing. Your office colored in taupe—cold, distant, and linked to the desire to escape from the world but in the farthest side of the room was a shelf littered with books and small knick knacks that seemed to be collected over the years rather than curated to match the professional setting. The books ranged from published psychology dissertations, medical teaching materials, and collections of essays from well-revered and obscure writers. 

You were dressed in black and white, standard for your importance, but your nails were painted in a pale pink color—close to looking natural but not quite. And lastly, your looks. 

You were beautiful, don’t get him wrong, he may not have the same experiences as Morgan did with the opposite sex but he knows a beautiful attractive woman when he sees one. No, it wasn’t that, it was how young you looked—almost or maybe even sharing the same age as him. 

A genius, then.

A prodigy in your own field just like him. 

“Doctor Reid,” the low timber of your voice bringing him out of his musings. It sent a shiver down his spine when he first heard you speak. A reaction that he catalogued in his mind as a mystery to be revisited later on. 

He subtly tilted his head to the side, an indication that you had his attention albeit reluctantly.

“Anything you say in this room is strictly confidential,” you gestured with your hand. “No file or notes will be passed to your unit chief or any personnels of the brass. I promise you.”

He scoffed, breaking his vow of silence. “That’s not a hundred percent true, Doctor. Lying to get your patient to talk can only get you so far.”

“I understand where you’re coming from but all I submit to the FBI is my conclusion if you’re fit to go back to work or not, patient-confidentiality still stands—” your delicate fingers feebly holding your pen. “Now, I sensed a little resentment. Is it coming from your self-loathing about having to choose a victim for Tobias Hankel or is it your displaced anger from separating with your team liaison, Agent Jareau?” 

He glared at you. How dare you imply the seething anger from within him is directed at anyone but himself. “What? No, no, no. I’m not angry at anything or anyone! Maybe at you and this whole evaluation but never at JJ or—” he cut himself off.

“The suspect,” you continued on for him, jotting down notes on your black leather journal.

“The unsub. Unknown subject.” He corrected, second nature of him to do so. “We call them the unsub.”

You nodded, a lock of hair falling away from your bun. A distracting motion that momentarily rendered him speechless. “Alright. Are you angry at yourself and your decision to separate with Agent Jareau during the case?”

He scoffed but opted to stay silent. Spencer had already given too much of his emotion away by answering the earlier questions. 

For any regular citizen, it may seem like the opposite but given the sound of you scribbling away on the pages of the notebook, you beg to differ.

You crossed your pant covered leg and stared into his eyes, a maneuver that could mean two things: 1) you were sizing him up, which was highly unlikely given the dynamics, regardless of his hostility or 2) you were trying to connect with him, a move backed by science that stated eye contact releases oxytocin—a bonding hormone. 

A study he didn’t want to prove right at the moment.

“Do you perhaps feel remorse for the unsub?”

His left eye twitched. “Tobias Hankel.”

“Is there a reason behind why you’d prefer to call the unsub by name?” You further asked, having found a sore subject to poke and prod to elicit a reaction.

The answer was yes, of course. Tobias was just a victim as much as he, Spencer Reid, was—the unsub, in his eyes, was a victim of bad fate that resulted in fracturing his psyche but a shrink didn’t need to know that. 

To be exact, the FBI didn’t need to know that he, an active and upstanding agent, felt remorse and guilt for not being able to save Tobias. Human emotion rarely had a place in bureaucracy and paperwork.

“How old are you?” Spencer nonchalantly inquired to throw you off his trail. “You look too young to be a Doctor contracted by the brass.”

You scribbled something again in your notebook before answering in a monotone voice as if your reply has been well rehearsed. “24, about to turn 25 and yes, I do look young. I graduated early due to my intelligence which I believe is the same case for you, Doctor—” you clasped your hands in front of you, leaning slightly forward. “—which brings us back to the topic, the anger inside of you, who is it directed to?”

His eyes shifted to the clock—5pm. 

A small smile graced his face. The time was up.

“Well, I believe we’re done here, Doctor—” he proceeded to stand up, picking on an imaginary lint as he did so. “—I would say it’s been nice meeting you but that would be a lie you’d no doubt catch and analyze.”

Your lips pressed thinly together, imitating a smile but Spencer knew that move quite well—you were reining in any unsolicited and possibly inappropriate comment regarding his snappy behavior. 

A small chuckle escaped his lips. If he, a profiler, considered you, a psychiatrist, his number one nemesis, there was no doubt you consider him the same. 

As he was about to step out of the office, your slender fingers brandished a calling card.

“Here’s my number—” he gingerly took it as if it contained some unknown pathogen. “—and my door is always open when you’re ready to talk, Doctor Reid.”

He nodded once, a goodbye. “Doctor House.”

There was little doubt in Spencer’s mind that he’d never willingly stop by your office again but if he had been paying attention to your subtle patronizing words of farewell, he would have picked up that this encounter was far from over. 

Especially when he found out on a busy Tuesday morning from Hotch that you had deemed him unfit to return back to the field—effectively barring him from the jet on its way to Idaho. 

The second meeting

There was a series of rapid knocks on your office door. 

As a psychiatrist with your own practice, it was highly unusual for clients to suddenly show up with no prior appointments or even a customary phone call. 

It was a Tuesday morning and like clockwork, you’ve allotted the first half of the day in catching up with paperwork dealing with your office and evaluations for the FBI. 

That gave you a pause, remembering a snipping agent who you deemed unfit for duty. Dr. Spencer Reid. The genius profiler who joined the ranks at the tender age of 22. A prodigy in his old field, just like you.

He was closed off, simmering with rage almost, and there was little doubt in your mind that he was the one behind the door, ceaselessly knocking. After all, when you sent in your evaluation directly to his unit chief, the stoic man’s face twitched with concern and maybe a little bit of annoyance in the paperwork it would entail.

“Come in,” you called out, hands clasping together on top of your desk. A perfect picture of professionalism.

The door swung open, revealing a tightly wounded Dr. Spencer Reid. 

With a thick cardigan adorning on his body and a leather satchel draped over his shoulders to his front, he looked normal. But you knew better, his choice of outerwear represented a security blanket in the middle of September and his placement of satchel acted as a shield and its’ straps a stress ball. With just that one look you knew he wasn’t ready to back with his team. 

“Dr. Reid, what can I do for you?” You asked, hand unclasping and indicating to the seat in front of you. “Please sit.” 

Closing the door behind him, he shuffled closer to your desk but made no indication to sit down. “I’d rather stand, Dr. House, and I think you know why I’m here.”

A show of dominance. Right away, he wanted control the outcome of this conversation to his favor. It was textbook psychology, a taunt you wanted no part of.

A slight smile appeared on your face, one that could be translated as friendly for those open and condescending for those closed off. “I believe I don’t follow.” 

“My evaluation, you made a mistake,” the left corner of his mouth lifting for a smirk. There was a vein visible on his temple, his anger and will to bottle it up manifesting physically. 

You tilted your head to the side, unwavering in your gaze, hands clasped and index fingers tapping together. The pause and silence was a standard tactic to get a patient to break, similar to what law enforcement uses with suspects but results may vary especially when used on a seasoned profiler.

Right away, Spencer understood your tactic. “That won’t work. We use that in every case, I know the standard—” he looked around the room. “—should I lower the temperature too?” 

You answered with silence. The agent in front of you now was no longer thinking clearly. His objective mind that would deem him fit to return for duty clouded with emotion, anger and something else. 

His right hand touched above his left wrist. A subconscious move provoked by your unrelenting gaze. A move that gave away an important piece of information that his unit chief no doubt omitted in the reports.

Ah.

Tobias Hankel was a drug addict.

And in turn has subjected the agent in front of you to his vices.

You sighed. Suddenly the case no longer felt black and white, it was treading close to home as you remembered your father who’s abusing Vicodin in lieu of his leg pain. It was a sore spot for you—a clink in your armor. 

“Sit, please,” you indicated to the chair in front of you again.

Spencer complied this time, having heard a change in your tone. 

“Dr Reid,” you started. “I believe my evaluation of you is still correct—”

He opened his mouth to argue.

“—but, please let me finish, perhaps we can compromise. As a psychiatrist, it’s not in my practice to give in to my client’s demands but as you are not a regular client, I believe it would be beneficial for the both of us to reach an understanding.”

You walked towards the locked cabinet to your right. It was where you kept all medical equipments—including medicine for patients. Reaching back to the depths of the lower shelf, your hand brought out a non-descriptive black pouch from its hiding. You sat beside Spencer, effectively communicating that you are both on the same level.

“I will approve your return for duty as long as you come back for a couple of sessions, not FBI contracted, strictly confidential, and you—” handing him the zipped pouch before continuing on. “—get drug tested.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he knew that his unit chief and mentor kept the delicate nature of his case out of the bureau and wondered how you pieced everything together. He underestimated you, you realized. A mistake on his end. 

“I’m a psychiatrist, I know the signs Dr. Reid, and besides, I’m a genius just like you,” you adjusted your posture, slightly leaning back. 

Check. 

He smiled, one that you could say no longer contained malice. It was instead filled with resignation and relief. “You’re right. I underestimated you, Dr. House.”

Standing up, you dusted imaginary lint from your black pencil skirt before extending your hand out for a handshake. 

He hesitated before reaching over shaking it once. His hands were rough and calloused from frequent holding of his gun but felt oddly warm and soothing. It represented who he was in your eyes—prickly and rough around the edges but soft and good on the inside.

As he exited your office with a soft thud of the door behind him, you admitted to yourself that you took a huge gamble. Rather than a checkmate, all you did was check his king. You didn’t ask if he had built his own stash of drugs after the case was finished. It was a risk you were willing to take just to take a step closer in getting the agent to trust you. Baby steps were better than nothing. You could work with that.

There was still the drug test you could rely on. A black and white piece of paper that would tell the truth if done at the right time. After all, the most important teaching your father, the older Dr. House, has imparted on you was—

Everybody lies.

The third meeting

The bar at the corner Main Street on a Friday night was a rare place for you to be. The echoes of its pulsing music could be heard a couple of shops away, luring bodies than the space could ever handle like it were Pied Piper and the people—by extension, you, were the unsuspecting kids. The lights were colored orange, giving the area a tint of good times and bad decisions. The aged brick walls discolored in a multitude of shades and the decorative posters were aimlessly nailed to the wall. There was a section far from the bar that was filled with moving bodies—people letting loose and exhibiting what you’d call a mating dance for anyone interested and beside the bar were two dart boards, popular with the crowd, but had seen better days. 

This wasn’t your usual scene as you excused your way to the bar tucked at the center space. It wasn’t due to snobbery, like what your friend Kyle once joked, it was preference.

The sticky floor beneath your sensible nude heels had you wishing that your feet were tucked in a soft blanket with mind numbing television playing in the background instead of navigating the throng of people holding their drink of choice and inhaling the musky scent of liquor and sweat.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” a tenor voice flirted from beside you.

Your eyebrow raised as you took in the source—a burly African-American with a buzzcut. There was something distinct about him that set him apart from the rest. It wasn’t his built or the way his grey shirt stretched to fit around his biceps. It also wasn’t the twinkle in his eye as he tried to entice you to flirt back. One of his hands drifted down to his waist and with his wide leg stance, you knew.

A cop. An off duty law enforcement officer.

You laughed. “Does that line usually work on women, especially from—” you paused for suspense. ”—a cop?”

“Okay,” the stranger chuckled. “Close, want to try again?”

A smile stretched your glossed pink lips. You were never one to back away from a challenge—it was one of the traits you inherited from the other Dr House.

“Well, if we’re basing it on where the bar is located nearby and my fifty percent guess from a while ago, I’d say you were a cop—maybe for a couple of years, before joining the FBI. Maybe counter terrorism—” the memory of Dr. Reid talking about his team found its way to the forefront of your mind. “—or by any chance, the BAU?”

He could no longer hide the surprise from his face. “Right, that’s right. What gave it away? Was it my ruggedly handsome looks or are you just a mind reader?”

You thanked the bartender before trying to find your way out of the surge of people behind you, clamoring to place their order. The stranger stretched out his muscular arms, guiding you away from the bar towards his booth.

“Just a mind reader,” you simplified—an action that came as second nature to you. In the past, when you would disclose your job as a psychiatrist, people would react in two ways. One, they’d get subconscious that you’d read into every body language they’d have, causing them to shy away or two, they’d become over-zealous and ask you to diagnose them all in good fun like it was some sort of magician’s trick.

A mop of light brown curly hair parked beside a long blonde hair caught your periphery. He had his back turned but it was a presence you’ve slowly started getting familiar with. It was Dr. Spencer Reid, out in the natural setting, a first.

Your eyes slowly widened as you realized where he was guiding you and who he might be. 

“Huh,” you uttered under your breath before flashing a smile to the stranger beside you. “Are you by any chance, Derek Morgan?”

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. How’d you do that, Ms. Mind Reader?”

A different timber of voice answered. “It’s because I told her—” a pair of hazel eyes turned to you, filled with accusation. “—Dr. House. Are you keeping tabs on me?” 

“Dr. Reid, I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

He scoffed. “In a bar? Near my office? The statistics on seeing me here is actually surprisingly high.”

He was hostile, understandably so as here you were, a stranger, who knows his deepest, darkest secret mixing in with the otherwise innocent parties of his personal life. It was no harm, caused no click in your armor—he’d been cooperative as of the late within the confines of your office but seeing you beyond the four corners of your taupe walls threw him off the loop.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” the blonde woman beside Spencer, flashed you a smile, hand stretching out for a handshake. “I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.”

You shook her hand. “Ah, it’s great to meet you, Agent Jareau.” 

“So, how do you know Spence?”

You smiled, unsure on how to disclose your psychiatrist-patient relationship with someone he works with. You didn’t know how much his team members knew about his scheduled Saturday meetings with you or if they even knew at all what Dr. Reid was going through.

From the past appointments, you’ve categorized the agent as an anxious avoidant type—something geniuses who grew up in a non-secure household tend to share. Yourself, included.

Your eyes glanced at Spencer before drifting towards the table behind him, subtly trying to figure out his choice of drink. You hoped it was non-alcoholic. He’d be suffering from withdrawals and if he clung to a substitute vice, you’d have to find a roundabout way to tackle the issue without pushing him to close off again. You didn’t need that, he was just starting to open up after all, plus if he stopped cooperating, you’d have no choice but to bring it up to his supervisors, jeopardizing his career. 

A clear glass came into view as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other.

Water. It was water.

You breathed a sigh of relief before slowly panning up, locking eyes with Dr. Reid. His gaze narrowed, having understood what you were checking on.

Checkmate.

“She’s FBI’s contracted psychiatrist,” he explained, jaw tight from anger. 

You flashed him a little smile before averting your eyes in chagrin.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you look a little to young to be a licensed doctor,” Agent Jareau observed. 

“I graduated early.”

Morgan’s left hand pats your back while the other pats Dr. Reid’s. “Another genius, then. You’d get along great with our pretty boy over here. He’s always going on and on about facts and statistics—“

“No offense Morgan, but I don’t think we’d get along at all,” Spencer sneered. “I’d rather not get to know someone who has an ulterior motive.”

Your hand tightened around your glass. “It’s great to meet you, Agent Jareau and Agent Morgan but I think my friends would be looking for me,” you flashed the young agent a dejected smile. “Dr. Reid, hope to see you again soon.”

“I don’t,” he sardonically replied.

You nodded once before turning back to where you friends would be, settled in the four seater booth, unaware that you may have just burned the rocky bridge you’ve built with a patient in need. 

The fourth meeting

A warbled hum roused you from slumber. 

With one eye straining to stay open, the digital clock on your dresser displayed 12:21. Midnight—the time for humans to all be in stupor but based on the humming, subdued underneath your pillow, there was one exception.

You sat up, blindly reaching for the phone. There was no programmed name for the number and right away, an eerie feeling started swirling in your gut. This was no social call. A call this hour could only be one thing, an emergency.

“Hello. Who is this?” Your voice still rough from sleep.

No answer. 

You pressed the phone closer to your ear, hard enough to possibly leave a mark. There were light rustles on the other end that indicated a presence, a person that wouldn’t or couldn’t answer your inquiry.

“Hello,” you tried again, voice raising at the end from tension. “Is anyone there?”

There was silence. The dread in your stomach further worsening as if group of bats decided to wreak havoc in its dark crevices. There was no indication that this was a prank call and there was also no indication that it wasn’t. 

You bit your lip, torn between hanging up and waiting for an existence to make itself known. It could be nothing or it could be—your train of thought suddenly taking a sharp left turn to the corner that a certain FBI agent unknowingly occupies. You had given him your number, having scrawled it at the back of your calling card during the very first meeting, purely out of the goodness of trying to put back the broken genius that graced and intrigued your doors.

“Dr. Spencer Reid?” You hesitantly asked, hoping that your intuition was wrong. That this wasn’t the agent calling for help.

A deep groan answered.

“Oh gods,” you breathed out. “Okay, okay. Just—shit, just stay on the line. I’m coming, I swear. Just—fuck.” Your feet scrambled out of the apartment, never mind the lights or the chill that the midnight had cloaked the air with.

It was your worst nightmare. You knew what this call was, you knew his state on the other side of the phone by experience.

Hands trembling as you started the ignition of your car and speedily backing up the parking lot and out the streets in little time. 

“Spencer,” formality be damned at this point as you turned a sharp right, your GPS indicating 8 minutes away from destination. “Spencer, are you still there?” 

A light rustle replied. 

“I’m almost there, hang on for me, okay,” your hand letting go of the steering wheel to push the tousled hair away from your face.

Each second felt like an eternity, each time passed threatened to push your mind into the fog of panic and memory of your very own father taking a whole bottle of Oxycodone and leaving a message for you and your grandmother. The panic, the fear, and the dread of that very moment had come back in two folds.

Your clammy fingers leaving pinch marks on the back of your palm. “Not now, not now,” you whispered to yourself. “I can’t have an attack now, keep it together.” 

“Dr. House,” Spencer gravely slurred.

You haphazardly parked the car at the nearest available sidewalk space, uncaring if by some miracle you get ticketed. “I’m here, Spencer. I’m here.”

There was a groan as you hurriedly ran up the apartment stairs, grateful that the security below was surprisingly lax.

Third floor, get to the third floor. I need to get to the third floor—you repeated under your breath. You could have called an ambulance or better yet his team member, SSA Derek Morgan, but you felt the urge to make sure he was alright. To make him see that someone else besides from his mother and team care about him. To make him see that life was worth living, no matter the good or the bad.

“Spencer, I’m outside your door,” you tried to catch your breath. “Do you think you could let me in?”

And for a few seconds, there was only the tense silence before a series of gasps and groans crescendo’ed louder and louder from the phone speaker and on the other side of the door. 

Shit. You knew what those grunts of pain and pleas meant, he was seizing.

Slamming down on the ground, uncaring if your exposed knees get bruised, you sent a silent thank you to your past self for leaving a hair pin inside the pockets of your sleep shorts. Breaking and entering was yet another skill set you learned from the other Dr House and his team of skilled doctors, you just never imagined you’d be applying that knowledge in breaking and entering a federal agent’s home. 

The door unlocked and you barreled your way to the living space where a frightful sight greeted you—Spencer on the floor, laying still as if he was peacefully sleeping.

“No, no, no,” you slid beside him, mind cataloguing every detail for the right action. An empty needle near his exposed right arm and an empty glass bottle of Dilaudid.

No rise and fall of the chest.

And no pulse. Medical training kicking in, you tilted his head up, clearing the pathway, and started chest compressions.

One. Two. Three—

“C’mon, Spencer, breathe,” you grunted in between pumps.

One. Two. Three. Four—

You leaned down to his chapped lips, blowing air to his mouth. “I need you to breathe for me, okay. Breathe, Spencer.” 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five—

“Breathe, c’mon Spencer,” you knew there was a high probability for the agent to have his own stash of narcotics and in by agreeing to keep his secret, lest he loses his badge, to get him to open up was a gamble. A risk you were now regrettably paying for.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six—

“Dammit Spencer, I could lose my license for this. Breathe, I need you to breathe.”

A sputtering of coughs escaped his lips.

“Oh thank you, thank you,” you breathed out, arms sagging from the pressure of performing CPR and the weight of fear that you might have been too late. 

Spencer groaned. “Dr. House?”

You nodded, the salty tears blurring your vision. The image of him lying still was burned into your memory, the same way the mirage of your own father lying in a pool of his own vomit. He’s alive—they’re both alive.

Your hands angrily erased the rivulets the tears left behind on your cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to give in to relief and emotion. Although Spencer was out of the woods, there was still a huge uphill battle to tackle. 

“I’ll carry you to bed, lean your weight on me,” you huffed as you helped him up the floor, making sure to take in most of his weight that you could.

The form of you, tears still streaming down your face and steps away from a breakdown, and his hunched form, weak and pliant, was a sight to behold. It was a sight after battle—after the white flag had been waved and the injured tying their best to find their way back to life.

It was sad. It was hopeful.

It was a brush on humanity’s eternal friend, death. Death that still loomed in the corners of the apartment, biding his time to take what was promised.

You laid him gently on the bed before running back to the spied kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The smell of books permeated the air as if to try and bring your panicked mind back to the present. If it were any other day, you would have found yourself perusing his shelves of eclectic classic literature but this wasn’t the right time and place.

Your bare feet sliding across the floor to make its way back to the groaning figure on the bed, threatening to sit up.

“No,” you tapped his shoulder to get him back down. “I need you to rest.” 

“But—”

“No buts Spencer. Rest, I’ll stay here.” 

His drooping eyes reading yours, trying to find any type of lie that would break his being further than it already was. Spencer was a broken man and this was the first time you could see written in his eyes his plea for help and company. “You promise?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

His hands blindly groping across the bed spread before it found the treasure it was searching for, your hand. He enveloped his with yours, calloused fingers intertwining with smooth. A contrast that brought him comfort—you were here. You were real. You felt safe. You saved him.

He was alive.

And with that, his eyes closed to fall into a peaceful slumber, one that he hadn’t had in months. 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

A/N: A new smutty one-shot. I tried. I don't think it's good. But let me know what you think.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Avenger female reader

Warning: smut

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 4200+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

Tony Stark had invited Charles Xavier and his X-men to an annual gala he held in New York. There were many reasons for that. The Avengers and X-men worked together during difficult missions and unexpected alien threats. Also, he wanted to prove to regular citizens and high-profile politicians that mutants were not the enemy. This was the perfect opportunity for both groups to strengthen their bonds and work relationships. 

That’s how Logan had found himself, in a fancy all-black tux, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand. His glare could kill anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t fond of these gatherings, and yet here he was. His eyes were searching for any threat, ready to fight anyone who would seem too suspicious to him.

“You didn’t have to come here, you know,” Hank chuckled when he approached Logan at the bar. “Nobody forced you to come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes and sipped on his whisky. “I know how important these things are,” he growled. “Charles wanted me to be here, so I’m here.” 

“Uh-huh,” Hank rolled his eyes. He ordered a drink. When the bartender had given him the drink with shaking hands, he had to chuckle. Some people were spooked by his blue fur and beasty look. “Isn’t it because you are waiting for a certain someone?” 

Logan sighed, defeated. Hank knew damn well that his friend had built some connection with a certain female Avenger. There was no denying he was waiting for her. “You really wanna go there, furball?” He tried to avoid the question. 

“Oh, come on, Logan. Everyone can see how you are smitten with that woman,” he chuckled. “It’s kinda nice.”

“I am not smitten,” he denied. Fuck, but even Charles constantly made comments and teased him about it. “By the way, shut your mouth, McCoy. I don’t want to hear shit from you. You’ve been eyeing that reporter from News 1.” 

That made Hank roar with laughter. He sipped his drink and turned to the crowd, watching people mingle around, talk and drink. “I’m not denying that. She’s pretty, we like to talk about science. You, on the other hand, keep denying everything. But we are not blind.”

Logan wanted to throw the drink at Hank. He would, if they’d be back in the mansion. He opened his mouth to snap back at him. But the energy shifted to the grand stairs. Logan’s eyes travelled there, wanting to know what the fuss was about.

Yelena Belova and Y/N Y/L/N walked down the stairs with linked arms. Both looked beautiful in their evening gowns and perfect hair. Yelena had a green satin dress. Y/N chose a sparkling black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, with a slit on her left thigh. 

Oh, if he could, Logan would drool like a dog. It was one thing when she wore that damn tight suit during missions, but this made him hard instantly. Fuck. Maybe this was the day he would have a heart attack. And she’d be the cause of it.

His blood started to boil when many men gave her attention. Once the women left the stairs, they were surrounded by testosterone. Yelena was a pretty lady, too. He had to admit that. Y/N was something different. She felt like a dream, a secret naughty fantasy that he wanted to come to life. 

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a fly,” Hank said. 

Logan drank the rest of the whisky in one go, eyes never leaving Y/N’s figure on the main floor. Hell, even her teammates danced around her. Where did this jealousy come from? 

He thought about the day they met. It was an accidental mission, where the Avengers were also present. While Charles and Captain Amerika talked after the finished mission, Logan’s eyes were focused on the woman who caught his attention. 

Their first interaction was amusing. Y/N tried to save his ass when a group of soldiers surrounded him. Logan was on the ground, guns pointed at every piece of his body when she came out of nowhere, shooting down the soldiers, snapping their necks with bare hands. Her kicks were strong, her punches were deadly. 

Once the threat was eliminated, she turned and looked down at Logan. “Are you done napping?” she asked him with a grin. 

He huffed. “I had it under control,” he huffed. He got up on his legs, the adamantium claws had already retracted back to his skin. Y/N watched it happen like a hawk but didn’t comment on it. 

“Of course. You almost got killed by ten men. Yeah, you had it under control.” 

“I can’t die, princess,” he squinted at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time a firing squad would try to kill me. In the end, it would always just tickle.”

Y/N tilted her head. A smile played on her lips. “Well, if you are done bragging, let’s move. There is still more to come and I would like to be in bed with a book in my hand by ten.” 

That was just their first interaction. And with that, something bloomed between them. Friendship? Or was it something more? Every mission became exciting. He couldn’t keep the dumb smile on his face once he saw her in the field.

Logan ordered another whisky. A grin spread on his lips when he thought back to their first meeting. He learnt her name later. First, it was just her last name. Rogers barked orders when he said it. Her first name came at a different time when they all shared the same coms for better communication. 

“She’s coming here,” Hank warned him, which brought Logan back to reality. 

With every step, he could notice more details about her. The material of the dress, how deep her cleavage was, how her breasts popped out, the red lips, the earrings, the fact that she was like a fucking angel. All she needed was wings. And, she was coming to him alone. Fucking finally. 

“Wolverine,” she purred his name. “I can’t believe you are here. Who put a gun to your head and forced you to attend this magical evening?” There was a teasing smile on her lips. 

Don’t look at her tits, he thought. Don’t look at the tits that want to spill out of that dress. Fuck!

“I heard there was an open bar,” he said. “So I decided to come and drink Stark’s liquor.” 

She licked her lips, suppressing her chuckle. “No other reason?” I raised a brow. “See your friends, swoon ladies or play pool with the boys?”

See me?

He kicked in the rest of the drink and put the glass on the bar. His eyes noticed the crowd gathering in the middle of the hall. A slow music started to play, inviting everyone to dance. Logan’s hand reached forward. It was now or never. “Or I came here to dance with ya, princess.” 

One second and her hand slipped into his. “Oh, so you dance, you say? Lead the way.” 

Logan proudly walked her into the crowd of dancing people. One hand rested on her lower back, other held her right hand. He knew what he was doing. After all, this was the first dance of his life. Y/N was impressed by that. They started to dance to the string music. 

He sniffed her sweet perfume, the shampoo she used. That woman would be the death of him, Logan was sure of it. They kept dancing, not talking. His eyes were on her, locked in a gaze. He had been close to her before but not like this. She was like a magnet, pulling him closer to her. Her lips inviting, her touch soft. 

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to spill out what was going through his mind. “You look beautiful tonight,” he admitted. “Fuck, you look beautiful every time I see ya.”

She chuckled. “Even in my suit during a fight?” she raised a brow. 

“Hell yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Princess, when you walk to the field in that suit, fighting fearlessly, I have trouble focusing. Once you did a trick with your thighs, choking an enemy with them, I almost lost it there.” 

Y/N’s hand left his. She brushed it up his arm and rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, so that’s the effect I have on you, eh?” she teased the Canadian. “Care to say more?”

Logan’s hand joined the other on her lower back. He pressed her closer to his body. The height difference was evident between them. Even with her high heels, she was shorter than him. “Fishing for compliments?” 

“From you? Yes,” she smiled. 

He moved closer to her, leaning. In his mind, he was ready to press his lips against her. He needed to kiss her like he needed to breathe. This was his chance to taste her.

A third hand landed on Y/N’s shoulder. “Y/N, Logan,” they heard someone say their names. The moment was ruined. He wasn’t able to kiss her like he wanted. On the other hand, he wanted to slash anyone who interrupted them.

With a growl, he pushed away, eyes finding Captain Rogers, accompanied by Hank. “What?” he asked them grumpily. He didn’t care it was rude. They ruined something special. 

“We need you in the conference room,” said Steve. “We have a situation.” 

Y/N sighed, stepping away from Logan’s hold. “What’s going on?” she switched to a work mode. She gave Hank a polite smile to acknowledge his presence. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted us about Trash industries,” said Steve. “Come, we’ll show you.” 

“Charles?” Logan’s eyes shifted to Hank. 

“Already with Stark,” he said. 

All four of them walked together from the grand hall. Yelena and Sam joined them on the stairs. The blonde woman was yapping about being taken away from a cute woman and a fine drink. 

“I just fucking got here. Already some shit is happening,” she kept cursing under her nose.

Logan kept close to Y/N. He missed her body being so close to his. He hoped they'd be able to continue. The conversation was intriguing. He remained by her side while walking through the hallway and to the upper levels of the compound. 

Her fingers brushed against his hand. It wasn’t an accident. No. Her fingers purposefully stroked the top of his hand. Instantly, his fingers moved. His pinkie hooked around hers for a second. It was a mutual sign. 

The group entered the conference room, meeting the rest of the Avengers and Charles. One by one they took a seat except Logan. He stayed on his feet, a step away from Y/N’s seat. A hologram appeared in the middle of the table. 

“We got a new location on Trask Industries, but this time, these fuckers had decided to work with some Hydra scums,” Tony started to talk, showing footage they managed to get from satellites. “Or so it appears. we are not quite sure.” 

“The public wouldn’t like that,” Charles commented. “They try to present themselves as a serious robotic corporation. Why would they jeopardise their public status if they start working with a public enemy?”

“That is trying to hunt down mutants and annihilate them,” Y/N commented. “Don’t want to imagine what’s going on behind closed doors. It can’t be nice.”

“Is it really Hydra?” Natasha asked. 

“It appears,” Steve chimed in. “Or something adjacent.” 

“So what? We’re just gonna sit here and wait for more details?” Logan scoffed. “The longer we wait, the more work they get done. I say to strike and kill them all.” 

Y/N licked her lower lip and grinned under her nose.

“We need a strategy, Logan,” said Charles.

“Not everyone can get sliced and heal with a snap of fingers,” Tony added sarcastically. “Chill, wolvie. Besides, we’ve sent Vision to have a look at the place. He’s a droid, a powerful one made out of vibranium.” 

Y/N turned her head to Tony. “That doesn’t mean he’s indestructible in this world,” she frowned. “New weapons are being developed every day to destroy mutants, to stop the Avengers. I hope Wanda went with him. They are stronger together.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course, she’s with him. Do you think I’d be able to stop her? I’m not crazy.” 

“Trask Industries are still working on the damn sentinel program,” Hank stepped into the conversation. “With Hydra’s help, who knows what they’ll be able to create together. The thought alone is scary.” 

Tony ended the hologram. Steve took the word. “I know we are supposed to be here at the gala, but I suggest a good night's sleep and be ready. If you’d like, we have spare rooms in here for you. You can stay here for the night if we need to leave.” 

When Steve said that, Y/N gently turned her head to the side, wondering what Logan would say to that. 

“I’ll gladly accept the offer,” Hank smiled. “At least I’d get to talk to Bruce for a little while and have a look at his labs. I’ll also alert the others at school.” 

“Howlett?” Tony raised a brow. 

Logan’s eyes moved from Y/N’s exposed shoulders to Hank and then to Tony. “Sure, why not? At least I don’t have to drive from place to place.” 

“I guess we are staying,” Charles smiled. “Thank you for your accommodation.” 

The meeting ended. Natasha and Yelena went back to the gala. Y/N talked to Hank for a few more minutes while he was waiting for Bruce. Steve and Tony took Charles back to the grand hall. Logan waited outside the conference room. Because no one was present, he took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it up. Three puffs later Y/N stepped out of the conference room with Hank. 

“Already smoking?” Hank sighed. 

“So what? Got a problem with that, bub?” 

“Always the charmer,” Hank shook his head. “Nice evening, Y/N. I’ll see you later,” he said once he saw Banner approaching the group. 

The moment Logan and Y/N were alone, they faced one another. “Are you heading back to the gala?” Logan asked. 

She hummed, thinking about it. “I’m not feeling like going back there. Honestly, those fancy parties are not my cup of tea. Wanna grab a drink in our lounge room? Stark has the fanciest shit there. You’re gonna love it.” 

Logan smiled at her. “Lead the way, princess.”

. . .

The lights were dimmed in the lounge room. Logan was nursing an expensive drink Y/N poured him. He made faces, eyed the liquid, humming and nodding. “This is some good shit,” said after a while. “Wealthy people can afford stuff like this. Also, Charles prohibited any alcohol at school.” 

Y/N chuckled, sitting in an armchair with her drink. “It makes sense. It’s a school. Of course, he doesn’t want any alcohol there. Does he let you smoke?” 

He huffed. “That he ain’t gonna do shit about it. No matter how much he threatens to turn me into a six-year-old girl.” 

“Aw, that’s adorable. I’d like to see that,” she put a wide smile on her face as she sipped her drink. “Maybe I’d brush your hair, put pink ribbons in it.”

Logan kicked the drink in and stood up from the couch. His eyes noticed a few photos around the place - from parties and group shots to professional photos of the team. They were like a family. What mostly caught his attention was Y/N. She was an Avenger, part of a superhero team. He huffed. Fuck, she was a damn Avenger. 

“What?” she questioned. A second later, she was by his side, eyes on the same photo of the team. “That was after Ultron almost annihilated the whole world. We celebrated our survival. Stark puked into his helmet,” she laughed. 

“Disgusting,” he frowned. “I must say, you look like one happy family,” he commented. 

Y/N hummed. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I love them all to death.”

“But?” he raised a brow. 

She shrugged. “Will I sound ungrateful if I say I hate being in the spotlight?” she made a face. “I can’t do photoshoots, the damn galas and shit forever. I hate attention. I’d rather be like you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “Teaching mutant kids, living life out of the spotlight. Even though it’s not easy, in my eyes, it’s simpler. Not have to deal with this shitshow.” 

Logan’s fingers found her hair. He brushed them away from her face. His mouth opened, ready to say something - anything - but instead, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her closer to his body and crashed his lips against her. It was like an invincible string, pulling them together. He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t slow, gentle. Quite the opposite. Logan’s tongue explored her mouth, tasting every corner he could reach. It was hungry, possessive. One hand held her tightly around her waist while the other slipped from her neck, down her back until it reached her ass, taking as much of her cheek into his palm. 

Both arms wrapped around his neck. A moan escaped her lips when the kisses moved to her jaw and down to her exposed neck. 

“I need to have you,” Logan growled between the kisses. “Fuck, pretty baby.” 

“My room,” she sighed. “We can’t give Stark or Rogers a heart attack if we do it here. Although, it would be funny.” 

Logan pushed away, staring into her eyes. He went back for her lips, only to bite her lower lip, pulling at it. “Lead the way, princess,” he growled. “And hurry, or I will take you here, where anyone can see us.”

Y/N grabbed him by the hand, taking him away from the lounge room. Logan moved her to his side and kept a hand on her smaller back. He needed to feel her, to be sure she was real and not a damn dream.

It took them a good three minutes to get to her room on the upper levels. The moment she closed the door, her hands were on Logan’s jacket, taking it off, letting it fall on the floor. Both of them stepped on it, not caring. His lips smashed against hers, all tongue and teeth. Grunts and moans echoed around them as they moved closer to the bed. 

“I wanna rip this dress off,” he said, hands grabbing both of her covered breasts into his palms, squeezing them. 

Y/N undid his tie. “No,” she chuckled, unbuttoning his white shirt. “Too fucking expensive. Here,” her fingers quickly found the zipper on her left side. She pulled it down and the dress loosened. That was Logan’s sign to pull down on it. 

“Fuck, princess,” his eyes rolled when she stood there in nothing but a black lacy thong. Her breasts were on full display, nipples stiff, just for his eyes. “Fucking perfect.” 

Before he could latch onto her hardened nipples, she forced the white button-up down off his body, hand grabbing onto his muscles, fingers brushing over some of the hair on his chest. She stood on her tiptoes to find his lips in another hungry kiss. 

His tongue dove into her mouth, caressing hers in the process. He felt her hands moving down to his belt, unfastening it. “Impatient?” his voice hoarse.

She pushed him onto her bed. He fell with a loud thud. The adamantium bones almost broke it in the process. “Shit, sorry,” she gasped, forgetting about his weight. But instantly, she climbed on top of him. Y/N pressed her breasts onto his chest as she needed to kiss him again and again. 

Logan switched it up, rolling them so she was under his body. “Now, let me ravish you before I give you my cock,” he said, lips already trailing kissed down her chest, over her breasts. His mouth took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, biting it. Her other nipple was teased by his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck, Logan,” she whimpered. 

His mouth then travelled south. His tongue left a wet trail down her stomach to the hem of her thong. He kneeled on the edge of the bed, taking her leg up in the air, kissing it from the thigh up to her ankle. “I should leave these heels on, darlin’. So fucking sexy. Fuck, and I will.” 

Y/N huffed. “Logan, please, I want your mouth on me.” 

“Ah, already begging. I love it,” he grinned. He put her leg on his shoulder. His fingers brushed down down her leg to her clothed pussy. With two fingers he brushed her over her hidden folds and clit. She practically purred. “Pretty sound.” 

“Come on, Logan, do something.” Y/N was becoming frustrated. He kept teasing her, rubbing circles over her clit. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Not now.” 

A dark laughter escaped his throat. “Patience, darlin’.” He moved the thong to the side, exposing her pussy to the cold air. He saw her clench around nothing. “What a pretty pussy, princess. So wet and ready for me.” And he buried two fingers inside her heat. 

Y/N moaned once his two thick fingers penetrated her. “Shit. Ah.” 

He pulled them out and put them straight into his mouth, tasting her. “Delicious,” hummed. “I’m gonna feast on you. Not now. Now, I need to feel you around my cock, princess.” 

Logan grabbed her thong and pulled it off her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He made sure to leave those heels on. “Fucking gorgeous.” He stood up to get rid of his pants. 

The moment he unzipped them, she knew he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Shit, Logan, commando?” she raised a brow. His length was already hard, ready for attention. The tip of his cock was angry red, already leaking precum. 

She was ready to reach for him, take his cock into her mouth and guide it into her mouth. Logan was faster. He pushed her back on the bed, shaking his head. “No, no, darlin’. I’m gonna fuck you now. And next time, I will let you have a taste of me.” 

“Next time?” she smiled. 

Logan leaned closer, his head above hers. “You think this a one-time thing? Oh, pretty girl. No, no.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Good,” she gave him a bright smile. 

He pumped his length a few times before he positioned his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inside until her hungry pussy took him all in. He cursed, groaned when her walls clenched around him. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N sank her nails into his chest, leaving red trails down to his belly button. They immediately disappeared, healed.

“Feel so good, princess. So tight,” he moaned as he started to move. At first slow, enjoying every stroke, watching her face like a hawk. He loved how her eyes rolled, how she gasped for air with each thrust or how she squeezed her breasts. She was fucking perfect. 

His thrusts fastened. He watched her breasts bounce as she kept fucking her. His grunts were louder, more vocal. Logan’s right hand found her neck. He wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing it. And that move made her clench hard around his cock. “Shit, Y/N,” he called her name. “Keep doing that and I will fucking cum inside you.”

Logan’s other hand sneaked between their bodies and found her clit. He started to rub it slowly, changing the movements. 

“P-please,” she gasped. “I need to cum, Logan.”

He smiled. “Yeah, pretty girl? Gonna cum around my cock?”

Y/N nodded, moaning and shaking under him. “Please, please,” she begged. 

“Come on, princess. Cum around my cock. Squeeze me with your sweet pussy,” he demanded. “Wanna feel you when you cum. Shit… Ah… Fuck…”

A few more flickers of his finger was what she needed to reach her peak. Her mouth formed a perfect O, her voice suddenly gone when the wave of pleasure hit her body like a train. Her back arched as he helped her through her orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he grunted. “Milk me dry.” 

A few more thrusts and he spilt inside her. His hot cum painted her walls. He growled like an animal, trying to prolong his climax with every movement. His body shook and then he stopped, panting. 

His eyes found hers. There was a post-orgasmic haze in them. A smile played on her lips. She was perfect, beautiful. Logan quickly leaned down and stole a kiss from her.

“Damn, princess,” he chuckled. “Such a good girl.” 

Those words made her clench around his length again. He grinned. “You like it when I call ya a good girl? Good to know.” Slowly, he pulled her semi-hard cock out of her and rolled next to her, catching his breath. 

Y/N rolled to him, resting her leg over his body. Her fingers drew patterns on his chest, moving through the hair delicately. “This was fun,” she smiled. “It’s been a while since I had a good orgasm.” 

He raised a brow. “Next time, I’ll make you cum on my fingers,” he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips on her fingers. “Then on my tongue and around my cock,” he hummed. “I will fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

She grinned. “Is that a promise?” 

“Fuck yeah, princess.” 

[driverlando]

✧.* THE FAN DIARIES

synopsis- in which nothing escapes the eyes of the devoted (Oscar Piastri x f!reader)

before you continue: I hope you enjoy this new smau series where I delve into stories from fans about the couples throughout the years!! it’s been so fun <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✧.* 2022- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2023- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2024-boyfriend and girlfriend

—

✧.* 2026- engaged

Formula 1 Star Oscar Piastri Engaged to Supermodel Y/N Y/L/N? Fans Spot a Ring in Public!

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In the fast-paced world of Formula 1, it’s not unusual for drivers to make headlines both on and off the track. But when it comes to Oscar Piastri, the young McLaren driver known for his cool demeanour and precise driving, the latest buzz isn’t about his lap times—it’s about his love life.

Over the weekend, Piastri was spotted in a casual but intimate moment with none other than international supermodel Y/N Y/L/N, setting the rumour mill ablaze with speculation that the two are secretly engaged. The couple, who have been dating since 2022 and have been notoriously private about their relationship, were seen shopping together at a quaint boutique in Monaco, sparking a flurry of excitement among fans.

The sighting was innocent enough: Oscar and Y/N, both dressed in laid-back summer attire, were browsing through a selection of home goods. Witnesses described them as "completely at ease," sharing laughs as they picked out items for what appeared to be a shared living space. But it wasn’t the domesticity of their outing that caught fans’ attention—it was the sparkling ring adorning Y/N’s left hand.

Eagle-eyed fans quickly took to social media, sharing photos and videos of the couple from the outing. The ring in question, a delicate but undeniably stunning diamond set in a simple band, has led many to believe that the pair might be engaged.

"Did anyone else see that rock on Y/N’s finger?!" one fan tweeted, alongside a blurry but revealing image of the couple holding hands. "Oscar and Y/N engaged?? This is HUGE!"

While neither Oscar nor Y/N have confirmed or denied the engagement rumours, the speculation has only grown stronger. Some fans have pointed out that the couple has been spending more time together in recent months, often seen in each other’s company at high-profile events, as well as more low-key, everyday outings like this one.

"It's not just the ring," another fan commented in a viral TikTok video analysing the couple's body language. "They look so comfortable together, like they've moved past just dating and are really solidifying their relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning a wedding!"

Despite their best efforts to keep their romance under wraps, Oscar and Y/N have become one of the most talked-about couples in the world of sports and fashion. The Australian F1 prodigy and the glamorous supermodel have been linked since early 2022, though they've kept their relationship out of the limelight, only occasionally giving fans glimpses into their private lives.

The rumour of their engagement isn’t the first time the pair has sparked speculation. Last December, they were photographed together on a secluded beach getaway in the Maldives, fuelling rumours of a blossoming romance. And earlier this year, Y/N was spotted cheering Oscar on from the McLaren paddock during the Monaco Grand Prix, further solidifying her status as his number one fan.

For now, Oscar and Y/N have remained tight-lipped about the swirling engagement rumours, leaving fans to speculate and hope for a confirmation. But if the ring on Y/N’s finger is anything to go by, it seems the couple might just be ready to take their relationship to the next level.

As the Formula 1 season continues to heat up, so too does the curiosity surrounding one of its rising stars. Whether or not the engagement rumours are true, one thing is certain: all eyes will be on Oscar Piastri and Y/N Y/L/N as they navigate life both on and off the track.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

✧.* 2028 - husband and wife

✧.* 2030- parents

—

[cutehoons02]

Kiss me, don't say no!

*pairing: pervy idol Jake x writer tumblr Girl

*trope: frat boy x good girl

*synopsis: What if your favorite idol and bias discovered your Tumblr account where you wrote cute and adorable one-shot about him but also spicy? You always dreamed of going to a fan meeting of the Enhypen but what would happen if Jake had written for days in anonymous pretending to be a fan of the enhypen and then made you realize that you were writing with him and he would want to recreate those one-Spicy shot you wrote about him?

*tags: Lots of tension, fluffy, Jake slowly becomes more and more obsessed by the protagonist, white lies, possession, jealousy, the protagonist is a pretentious shy, they are both perverts, inspired by one-shot and reading, manipulation, masturbation (f.receives) touch, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) +18,pet names (good girl,angel) (jakey)

Sunghoon pt Heeseung pt

(English is not my native language)

8k (🎀)

Jake was bored. And when Jake was bored, he could only do two things: annoy the group members until he threw a pillow in his face... or get lost in the meanders of social.

Lying on the bed of his hotel room, with hair still wet after a shower and phone in hand, he was lazy on Twitter until he saw a trade of a fan account on him that posted one-shots that could be read on Tumblr and the top 10 and there were for each one-shot link and when he entered the page of Tumblr it jumped out at him: #Enhypen x Reader.

Curious, clicked and his timeline immediately filled with scenes, gifs, fanart, and especially fanfiction about them. He was used to seeing the name of Heeseung or Sunghoon at the top of those charts, but when his eyes fell on #Jake x Reader, his interest lit up instantly.

And then he saw it.

A blog with a cute icon and a sweet username that had fanfiction number one: "Vampire Jake: My Predator".

He just had to slide a few lines and feel a shiver running down his back.

"His red eyes shone in the darkness as his warm body trapped me against the wall. His breath was irregular, the canines were touching my bare neck while his fingers were gripping my life with an almost animalistic possessiveness."

Jake swallowed it. For a moment, his shy side pushed him to close everything, but his curiosity - and, okay, maybe something else - prevented him from looking away.

He continued reading, the heartbeat in his chest. The way you described it... the sweet tone, but also incredibly spicy... He made him blush to the ears. You had written about him as a dangerously seductive vampire, someone unable to follow for the desire to taste his prey: his girlfriend. Is it the worst? It almost seemed that you knew him.

When he finished reading the one-shot he thought: Wow this girl seems to know me so well for just being a fan of mine!

Then, scrolling through the other stories in your profile and seeing the number of likes and comments was quite famous, he realized that this was not an isolated case.

"Boyfriend Jake (But he’s a Pervert)"

"Golden Retriever Jake (But he’s Obsessed with You)"

"Jake Sim and the Thousand Excuses to Touch His Girlfriend"

He almost laughed. Almost because his head was now full of images... and questions. Who the hell were you? And how did you write such things about him with such confidence?

And with a clever smile, he had an idea: Jake had always been the type to be carried away by instinct. And at that moment, his instinct was only one thing: to find out who was behind the blog.

And maybe... talk a little with you, he entered the message section but first, he had to create an account that looked like the account of any fan of Enhypen and at this point himself. In the image he put a photo of him taken from Twitter and created the name with his initials and the year of his birth "J_S02" was perfect because you would have understood that he was a fan.

Message from "J_02" (aka Jake, undercover mode: activated)

Hey! I know you probably get a lot of messages, but I had to ask... why are you writing ONLY about Jake? I read your story and it’s nice but you seem to know Jake better than yourself!

Jake bit his fingernails and rubbed the towel in his hair to relax, he wanted to talk about it to his friends like Jay or Sunghoon but what would he say to him: Hey I found a fan of ours writing one-shot spicy about me, and out of curiosity I wrote a message?

Nah they would have made fun of him when he waited madly for your message and after a while arrived.

Answer from you: Oh? Another jealous Jake fan? 👀

J_S02: No no, I swear I’m not jealous! (Maybe a little hahaha) But come on, don’t the other members deserve some love? I saw your master and you only have stories about Jake

You: Jake is special, I follow him from I-land. He has that adorable golden retriever look but with a dangerous side that makes him perfect for any scenario... sometimes I take inspiration from their video clips or their songs

J_S02: Dangerous? But he seems the type that gets excited for a puppy! Have you seen how mini it is when he sees any animal but especially Layla?

You: Of course, I know that it has a sweet side! When he came out that vlog with Layla was adorable but who says you do not hide a more... spicy side?

Jake laughed when he read that message, certainly, it was not innocent as they painted some fans but did not think that some fans could think of it as a boy a little perverted to say it all.

J_S02: Okay, okay, point in your favor. But then... how do you write about him in so much detail? Do you know him by chance or is it all in your imagination?

You: Maybe yes, maybe no. 😉 But sorry, why all this interest? You wrote me because I don’t write about other members but I think seeing also your profile photo that you are a fan, right?

J_S02: Let’s put it like this: I would like to see if your descriptions are accurate and yes, I’m a fan of Jake and the Enhypen too, but I’m a boy and I don’t know if this thing could bother you...

You: Oh, finally I met some male fans of Enhypen!! Returning to the message from earlier and if I find that I have perfectly grasped his character? And that Jake could be both the cub boy and "Golden retriever" as the members describe him but also with a bit of a not-so-innocent guy side?

Jake ran his hand through his thick hair and shook his head, god was so fun to write you especially when he wanted to know someone or maybe have a girl to talk to about these things but the Idol life had strict rules, and didn't want to burst dramas especially now that they were at the peak of their careers and with a thousand things at stake.

J_S02: Then I would say that... you should give me some more details. You know, for "research purposes".

You: Tsk tsk, what a pervert. Just like the Jake of my stories...

Jake loved how you imagined it and maybe that Jake you described so well was not only the Jake of your stories but also the one in reality!

The conversation with you on Tumblr didn’t stop, and every message he received made him smile and at the same time put him in a more complicated position. " Who was this girl?" he wondered. "What would she think if she knew who I was?".

He could not reveal his identity to you, and the most fascinating part of the conversation was just that. He felt like he knew the secret, while you were completely unaware that you were talking to one of the ENHYPEN.

Meanwhile, he kept on responding to your messages, in a friendly and curious tone, but always maintaining his "normal identity".

J_S02: I wanted to ask you this weekend will you go to one of the two concerts they do in Seoul and the fan meeting?" Jake wrote, pretending to be just a normal guy who was curious to meet a fan.

You: Of course, I will. And also at the fan meeting on Monday!

You’ll be there? Interesting thought Jake when he read that you were going to see him at the concert but also the formatting, could somehow find out who you were and understand who was behind this account

J_S02: It must be a big event for you! Don’t you think it would be strange to meet one of your favorite stars live? Don’t you think it might be a little awkward? I will not be at the concert because I work but at the fan meeting I will be

After a few seconds, the phone vibrated with a new answer.

You: Oh, no! I don’t think it will be weird... maybe a little bit exciting, since I follow I-land, I dream of seeing them sing and dance live. Although I’m a bit shy, I think it would be a dream to see one of my idols so close and I can’t wait for it to be Monday; however, we could meet on Monday at the meeting!"

Jake, reading that answer, smiled and felt puzzled. Something was fascinating about the way you spoke. You looked so genuine and completely unaware of who he was.

J_S02: It seems to me that you are a really big fan, what are you preparing for the most: the concert or the fan meeting? Anyway, it would be perfect if we met at the meeting

The response came in a flash, with a line of enthusiasm that made Jake smile.

You: Both, honestly! But what excites me the most is that after the concert I’ll go to the fan meeting and, well... I guess I will see him after 4 years in the flesh! It will be a unique opportunity. I can’t wait! Well perfect then on Monday morning we agree on where to find us, I will be with my friends:)

Jake holds a smile. He felt in a sense excited by the thought that this girl would soon meet the Enhypen and especially him, But the thing that intrigued him most was how she would react when she realized he was one of the members she was feeling with.

J_S02: Oh wow, you seem excited. I wonder how you’ll react when you’re face to face with the Enhypen and Jake!

He wrote, but with a subtle play on words, pretending not to be the star she loved so much.

J_S02: We should find a way to recognize ourselves if you want to meet me at the meeting, I guess there will be a lot of people.

You: I’ll send you a picture of my outfit on the day of the fan meeting! So it will be easier to find us 😊

Jake smiled and now the game could be even more interesting.

The two concerts in Seoul were crazy, They sang and danced to thousands of fans and everyone was happy with their performances Jake was excited because he knew that in that flood of people, you were also there and he couldn’t wait to write you and see you tomorrow at the fan meeting.

Jake, still hiding behind his anonymous profile, found himself typing a message right after the end of the concert. He wanted to know everything.

J_S02: So, how was the concert? Did you have fun?

It took a while for him to get an answer, but when the phone vibrated he found a long message that made him smile.

You: Oh my God, it was AMAZING. I’m still without a voice! I screamed so much that tomorrow I probably won’t even be able to talk 😂.

Jake laughed at himself, imagining you all euphoric and out of breath after watching the show.

You: The performances were crazy! They sang all my favorite songs and I did not stop to film. I have a thousand videos and photos, literally.

J_S02: And did you get all of them or just your favorite as well as Jake Sim? 😏

You: Um... let’s say my film is 60% Jake and 40% the rest of the group.

Jake shook his head laughing. So you had eyes only for him, huh? And he decided to go a little further.

J_S02: And how was Jake live? Did he look at you at least once?

You answered immediately with a message accompanied by a video.

You: I caught him right now! Look, for a second he looked at me!"

Jake opened the video and concentrated. During all the chaos of lights, fans, and screaming, he managed to see himself on stage... and then, for a moment, he saw himself turn his gaze to the camera.

He made up his mind trying to remember that moment but there were thousands of fans that night and the thought that you had immortalized that micro-second among so many people gave him shivers.

J_S02: Wow. He looked at you. Do you remember what you thought at that moment?

You: That I would have melted away instantly. And that I was making mental films, because imagine if he had seen me"

Jake laughed. Oh, if you only knew... that he had seen you and was also writing to you

You kept writing to each other for a while, until Jake, without even thinking about it, asked you:

J_S02: What are your favorite songs?

You: It’s hard to choose just a few! I love Shout Out, Moonstrock, One in a Billion, Criminal Love, and the whole "Dark Blood" album but let’s say I love songs where Jake’s voice is strong. And also... I miss the blond Jake when I saw him blonde for the first time I thought I was in love with him haha. Even as a brunette he’s fine but blond>>>

Jake when he read that he liked the blond version wrote to his hairdresser staff that tomorrow before the fan meeting wanted to make it blonde that was a lot that did not dye his hair

Without thinking, he wrote to her:

J_S02: Well, at the fan meeting you will see him blond again.

On the other hand, you took a few seconds to answer.

You: Wait... what? It’s impossible! There is no comeback planned, no special event. He couldn’t change his look so randomly.

Jake bit his lip. He had just said too much, cabbage had been careful until now you should not get caught up in the emotions.

You: Wait, how do you know?

Jake cursed himself mentally. But why did he miss that sentence?!

J_S02: Oh... ehm... I meant that maybe it could be a surprise. You never know. I was just kidding! 😅"

You seemed to accept his answer, but he knew the damage was done. The problem? The next day he would really dye his hair blonde before the fan meeting and scrolling on Twitter and Tik Tok had read everywhere on social media how fans liked that look on him, and eventually he decided to do it but now... He felt that he had done it for one more reason.

You were excited, the fan meeting was about to start and you already heard the music coming from the theater and the various voices of the members; you had spent the morning preparing yourself, choosing carefully his outfit: a white t-shirt with small pink bows, low-waisted jeans that let a thread of skin, loose hair and Adidas Samba on the feet. Nothing too flashy, but cute enough to feel comfortable waiting in line, you got a message.

J_S02: So, are you ready?

You: More than ready! I’m already inside the arena, soon I’ll enter the fan meeting room!

J_S02: "How’s your outfit? I want to understand how you are dressed so I try to find you."

You: Mh, I have a little T-shirt with pink bows, low waist jeans, the Adidas Samba and loose hair

After a few seconds, Jake responded with a photo.

It was a slightly blurred image, taken from below, but you could see clearly: a red sweatshirt and torn jeans.

You: Wow, mysterious as always. Where are we?

J_S02: Inside the fan meeting. But I’m sure you’ll recognize me right away.

You wrinkled your forehead for a moment in what sense would you recognize him immediately? You sent around to observe all the few males that there were at the fan meeting but none had a red sweatshirt and it was strange because it was an access color and you should recognize it immediately.

You: Um, I’m already inside, but I don’t see anyone with a red sweatshirt and ripped jeans... 👀"

Jake: Wait till you get into the main hall.

You sighed, thinking he was teasing you and finally, the line came forward. With a heart full of joy, you entered the room where the Enhypen were sitting next to each other, waiting to chat with the fans and time seemed to slow down.

You saw them, all seven. The faces you knew so well, the guys you followed for years, the guys you could see grow up in recent years and watch them record after record with their songs and performances but when your gaze reached the bottom of the line... your breath stuck in your throat.

Jake was crazy alive: His hair was blonde, fluffy, and slightly ruffled, the perfect face, the smile on his lips but it wasn’t his appearance that made you tremble. It was his outfit: a red sweatshirt, and ripped jeans, exactly those of the photo, and the world around you seemed to stop for a few seconds while your brain tried to put together the pieces.

Jake... It was him... He was "J_S02". You thought he was just a fan but instead you.

You were written with Jake Sim. You sent him your videos at the concert. You told him how you would dress. And, most importantly... Jake read your fan fiction about him. You wanted to disappear and run away from the fan meeting but you couldn’t go back and the heat went up to your face so fast that you feared to faint.

What about Jake?

Jake was looking at you with a clever little grin, eyes slightly closed as if he was having a bit too much fun at your reaction, and then slowly winked at you and you saw him for a few seconds pulling out of his pocket a phone and you felt your vibrating.

J_S02: Surprise. 😉

And in that instant, you realized one thing was fundamental you were in trouble.

You stuck your phone in your jeans with a nervous gesture and your heart was pounding, you tried to stay calm, to treat that fan meeting as a normal experience. With the other members, you were perfectly at ease.

Jungwon had made a nice joke about your shirt, Jay had shown you a magic trick, and Heeseung had been incredibly sweet to you but when it was Jake’s turn ... Everything changed.

You sat in front of him, your heart pounding in your ears and you couldn’t even look at his face. It was too much: too absurd. Too surreal. Too much of him.

Jake looked at you with a hint of a smile, fingers thumping read on the table, and then, without warning, he took your hands, and contact with his hand made you feel too real.

He approached slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

«Hello, Y/n.

God, your name said from his lips made your heart beat even faster and you clenched your lips, but before you could say anything, Jake bowed his head and his smile became more provocative.

«Or should I say... writer of spicy tales?"

A heat wave went up from your neck to your cheeks. Oh no. No, no.

You cleared your throat, retracting his hands with a quick gesture but he was faster than you and put them inside you in his big hands and squeezed them slightly.

"Stop." Jake raised a slouch and started to laugh slightly

«Why should I? It’s not my fault if you spent days writing spicy things about me!

You felt the fire rising in your stomach. You were angry, angry with him for deceiving you, angry with yourself for not realizing it before, angry because... damn, it was even more fascinating live.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered, finally taking your hands off his and crossing your arms on his chest.

Jake leaned against the back of his chair, looking at you with that look that seemed to be light inside.

«Oh, so you’ve got the wrong idea about me all these years? Did you think I was more... sweet?"

Where was the sweet, sunny, awkward Jake you always imagined? Where was the human golden retriever who made millions of fans beat their hearts?

What you had in front of you was a completely different Jake, maybe... more like the one you described in your stories.

He looked down at your shirt for a second, then slowly went up to your eyes. «Cute bows on the mesh."

You felt burning with embarrassment, especially because, as he spoke,

He had to stop it immediately with you, for you that was not a game was a dream that had been realized to see all 7 live but slowly was turning into a nightmare.

"Jake, stop," you hissed. "That’s not fair. You pretended to be an ordinary fan!" Jake raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if he was amused by your indignation.

«I repeat, I am not the one in error."

He looked at you with that damn arrogant grin you had never seen on him before.

«You’re the one who writes hot stories about me."

You felt yourself dying. You wanted to sink underground and never come out again.

"I... Not "You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat and Jake tilted his head even more, his look was amused but there was something more.

«What is it? Are you ashamed to have me before you now?"

YES. CURSED YES. But you would never admit it.

"That’s not the point!" you slammed slowly, trying to ignore the heat that was coming down your face.

Jake leaned his head closer and stood there, a few inches away from you, with that air of someone who had just found his new favorite pastime: to make fun of you.

«You know what?" he said, crossing his arms and staring at you with an almost dangerous smile. «I was intrigued by those stories."

You’ve been peeking. "W-what is it?!"

«Yes. We should talk about it better, don’t you think?"

"Talk about what?!" you said with grace that they were on fire and you could not look at him anymore but you looked from everything except him and hoped that the staff called you to send you away and Jake came closer, his eyes glued to yours.

«Of all you’ve written about me." And in that instant, you understood something very, very clearly. Jake Sim would not leave you alone.

Days had passed from the fan meeting and your life was back to calm, you went to university, studied, and went out with your friends to downtown Seoul or near the river thrusts, when you had time you read new one-shots and in your drafts there were some already set but you did not dare to publish any because Jake knew of your existence and even if he had not written since that day you always had the anxiety to receive a message.

But on the other hand, Jake saw your Instagram profile, thanks to the list he had found after the fan meeting with all the names and surnames written and it was a breeze to find your Ig profile carefully, eyes that were shining with curiosity... e desire had found you and would not let you be for long.

Your photos told him a story he already liked too much.

Shots of travel with friends, always smiling, always radiant, Photos at concerts, immersed in the crowd, your eyes illuminated by emotion. Outfit as a good girl, but with the right touch of mischief.

Jake ran his hand through his blond hair, biting the inside of his cheek. You were the perfect representation of his ideal girlfriend and now that he had seen your world... he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then, a notification brought him back to reality.

🔔 Y/nWritings has posted a new story on Tumblr.

A shiver of excitement passed through him. Finally, he wanted too much to see what you had written about him until now you had only imagined it but now that you had seen him live and even heard him talking with you you could describe it much better; opened the post, sure that she would find a new story about him but her smile is turned off when she read the title.

"Heeseung x Reader - After the Fan Meeting..."

Jake wiped his eyelids slightly because he had read wrong but when he opened the story in a hurry, eyes running through the lines with growing annoyance and a sense of jealousy crept into his chest.

That story wasn’t about him. It was about Heeseung and it wasn’t just any story. It was spicy.

Jake clenched his jaw, the blood boiling in his veins. But what the fuck... he was your favorite. He was the one who had made her crazy for days not heeseung. He was the one who invaded your thoughts and your Tumblr profile with him as the protagonist, not Heeseung!

A dark smirk curled his lips, if you wanted to play with him, then he would play but his rules and win at any cost.

You were lying in bed with the computer playing one of your favorite TV shows in the background and you were relaxed in your room until a notification that you knew belonged to made you shudder.

J_S02: I want to see you.

You pulled yourself up with wide eyes, no, it couldn’t be you had ignored it for days, you tried to forget what happened at the fan meeting but you knew that sooner or later he would rewrite you and maybe you played with the wrong person because fatality had rewritten you on the same day you published a one-shot but this one-shot had not as protagonist him but another member of Enhypen.

You: Don’t write me anymore.

J_S02: Are you sure?

You bit your lip. Yes, damn it, you didn’t want to do anything with him anymore;

You were about to type another message when an Instagram notification blocked your heartbeat.

🔔 J_S02 has viewed your story and started following you

Wait... what?! In what sense did he follow me? How the hell did he find my profile and panic took over?

J_S02: Look out the window.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you slowly got up from the bed and approached the window with the phone in your hands and when you looked out... your world stopped. Jake was there, leaning, with his red sweatshirt and the usual ripped jeans, hands tucked in his pockets but this time he had a black mask covering his nose you knew it was him and you heard him talking.

«Now you still want to say no?»

The voice was low, slightly hoarse. Damn dangerous and you felt the heat coming to your face. He was crazy?!

Open the window, heart in throat. "What the hell are you doing here?!" You hissed quietly, afraid someone might hear it

Jake tilted his head, his smile amused. «I wanted to see you.»

You stared at him incredulously. "You can’t... I mean... how did you find me?!"

He shrugged. «I have my famous methods.»

You pale because it was creepy, yet damn charming.

"I can’t get off."

Jake sighed, pulling out the phone. "So I’ll get up.»

"No, I’m not!" exclaimed in panic but he was already gone, You ran to your door and leaned until you heard footsteps and slowly opened the door and saw Jake climbing the stairs and slowly taking off his black mask and stared at him with your heart beating like crazy. He was a fool. But an incredibly sexy fool.

You sighed when you felt its slightly amber scent invade your spaces. "What do you want from me, Jake?"

He looked you straight in the eye.

«Gosh, you’re giving your favorite idol warmth! I want to know why you wrote about Heeseung.»

You flashed your eyes when you heard the last part of the sentence. "Wait... are you here for this?!"

Jake nodded. «Explain it. Why didn’t you write about me?»

You put your hand in your hair and were seriously incredulous about the situation you were living in. "I didn’t think it was a problem."

«It is,» said Jake, with a dangerous smile and you saw him approaching you

Was he jealous?

He watched you for a few seconds and put his hand in the door of your room which was like a shield that could protect you from him at that moment.

«Can I. Can I come in?»

"Jake, I’m..." He stared at you intensely. «I will do nothing to you, Y/n. I just... want to talk.»

You bit your lip, you knew you shouldn’t but damn... you wanted to find out how far he would go and with a sigh, grabbed the door and opened it, Jake at first is surprised but at the same time he is satisfied with your choice, and when he came in he got closer to you and said to you in a low voice

«Good girl," You were fucked. Closed the door of your apartment with too much heat, what the hell was Jake doing in his house?!

Jake had already gone into the small shared apartment with your friends, looking around with a funny, almost arrogant air. He stood at the door of his room and looked at it with a mischievous smile.

"Can I come in?» he asked with a friendly polite tone and you exclaimed "NO!"

Trying to prevent him from entering but it was quite late, Jake had already turned the handle and had entered and you bit your lip, while he watched everything with attentive eyes and after a moment of silence, he whistled softly.

"Wow,» he commented, letting a laugh run away as she looked around. "This is a good girl’s room. I did not expect anything less.»

His fingers touched a row of perfectly neat vinyl over the bookcase. His eyes slid to the hanging lights, polaroids stuck to the wall, the Enhypen albums neatly stacked on the desk but the thing that made him smile even more was the teddy bear lying on the bed.

"Oh? You sleep with a stuffed animal?»

"It’s not your business!" you slouched, crossing your arms at your chest. Jake grinned and, without thinking twice, threw himself on the bed as if it were his. He reached out nonchalantly, hands behind his head, body relaxed as if he were in his dorm with the other boys.

"Comfortable,» he commented, slowly sliding his hand along the edge of the blankets and then looking up at you, with that air he knew very well to drive you crazy.

"I was expecting something more... forbidden, you know? Seeing the things you write about me.» You came closer by snapping, grabbing him by the wrist in an attempt to pull him out of bed.

"Get off now!" exclaimed, trying to keep a steady tone, even if you were going completely tilt inside Jake laughed softly, but did not move.

"You shouldn’t be here, you’re a liar! I thought I was talking to an Enhypen fan, not you!"

Jake slowly lifted himself on his elbows and, with a fluid movement, grabbed your wrist, reversing the grip. His hand was warm and steady, the grip firm but not intrusive, and came slightly closer, your faces were dangerously close.

"I know,» he muttered with an enchanting smile. "Surely I played a dirty game with you...»

Jake tilted his head to the side, his eyes shining with pure fun.

"But tell me, Y/n, who is the one crazy between us?»

"What the hell do you mean?" Jake slowly let go of your wrist but remained close, his voice low and dangerously sweet.

"You write dirty stories about me.» Jake let himself be left again on the bed, making himself comfortable. " One-shot extremely spicy,» he continued, playing with the edge of your shirt. "Write about me that I do things that are definitely... forbidden.»

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the liar, trying to keep your voice still.

Jake laughed. "Oh, you know. I read it all, Y/n. Everything.»

You stared. "Are you a stalker?!"

"No, princess, I would say that I am the protagonist of your dirty fantasies.»

"Stop it!"

"Why? Does it embarrass you? » he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Strange. You didn’t seem so shy when you wrote about me whispering obscene things in your ear.» You covered your face with your hands, mortified and Jake laughed again, but then his look became more intense.

"Tell me something,» he said, lowering his voice a little. "You’re so obsessed with me, why the hell did you write a one-shot about Heeseung?»

You were stuck for a moment. "What?" Jake crossed his arms behind his head, looking at you with a slightly annoyed air.

"I read everything. All your stories. And the fact that the last one was on Heeseung bothered me.» you stared at him, incredulous. " Did he give you... trouble?"

Jake sighed, sliding a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes. Because I thought you were all about me.»

You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smile. Was he... jealous?

"What does it matter? Maybe Heeseung is my true bias," you teased him, tilting his head to one side.

"Oh, so you like guys like Heeseung?»

You shrugged, trying to keep a neutral expression. "Maybe."

Jake gently grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Don’t say stupid things,» he murmured in a low voice. "I know very well that you always had eyes for me.»

Jake smiled, satisfied with your reaction, then stooped down again to you, his face a few inches from his.

«Then tell me, Y/n...» he touched your face with his fingers, almost distractedly. «Who is the crazier one of us?"

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating too fast, your breath too short, the skin hot where Jake’s fingers had touched it. What was he going to say? That yes, you were obsessed with him? That every scene you wrote for yourself seemed so real in your head that you lost sleep?

Jake tilted his head to one side, looking at her with that half-amused, half-dangerous smile. Then, without warning, he touched your cheek with his fingers.

«Here it’s all real, Y/n,» he muttered, his voice lower, deeper. «There is no game in action, no anonymous behind a screen. It’s just you and me.»

You felt a shiver run down your back. Why did he have to speak that way? With that tone that seemed like a promise and a threat together?

"You’re impossible," you slammed, trying to step back. "And a lying asshole, too, by the way!" Jake laughed softly, but in his eyes, there was something different. Something more intense and before you could go away, he grabbed you by the wrist and, with a fluid movement, pulled you over, and a moment later, you were riding on him.

"Jake!" you flapped your eyes, trying to move you but he held you with a steady hand on your back, holding you exactly where he wanted.

«Tell me something,» he muttered, looking you straight in the eye. «That scene you wrote... is how you imagined it» Jake lowered himself slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

«Was this the position?» he whispered, his warm breath touching your skin, you could say nothing.

In the end, unable to sustain his gaze, you annuided and Jake smiled, but in his eyes, there was a predatory glow.

«Good girl», he whispered. And then without realizing it, he crashed his lips into yours, the kiss was not sweet. Or rather, it was for half a second.

His lips were resting on yours with a deceitful delicacy, as if they wanted to make fun of you, as if he was giving you time to run away but you did not run away and Jake understood it immediately.

His hands slowly slid down your back and then squeezed it harder, as if he wanted to taste you all the way. The kiss became deeper, more famished, and territorial.

You instinctively clung to Jake’s sweatshirt, fingers tucked in the fabric as you felt his body warm wherever he touched you. Jake wasn’t just kissing you, he was calling you.

Every movement of his lips against yours was decided, every touch of his hands on your curves was sure, every breath mixed with his said one thing: You are mine.

When you pulled away for a second, you were slightly panting, your cheeks burning, your chest rising and falling too quickly but Jake didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

«You will never write anything about anyone again,» he muttered, kissing you again.

Groaning against his lips, unable to resist him Jake smiled in the kiss and pressed you even more against himself.

«Only on me,» he whispered against your mouth, biting your lower lip slowly before letting it go.

«Got it?»

You couldn’t answer, too lost in him, in his smell, in his touch, in the way he seemed determined to leave his mark on you. You nodded your head and he pressed you even closer to him and said

«Good girl,» gently caressing your side. When you came off again you covered your face with your hands, mortified by the situation and Jake laughed softly, his breath still irregular.

«So? Will you write about Heeseung again?» He asked with a dangerous smirk, you gave him a pat on the shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that I was still sitting on top of him.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered. Jake laughed again, brushing his blond hair.

«I know, princess. But you know what the worst part is?»

You looked at him with curiosity. "What?"

Jake took your chin between two fingers and forced you to look at it.

«Now that I have kissed you, I have no intention of stopping here.»

You missed the breath and Jake came closer, his eyes burning.

«And this time, angel...» he touched your lower lip with his thumb.

«It will no longer be just your fantasy. Then, tell me Angel...» his voice was a rough whisper as he slowly caressed your back with his fingers. «That famous one-shot in which I was a vampire... what was the exact scene?»

"I don’t... I don’t know," you tried to answer, but Jake shook his head with a smirk.

«Oh no, you know very well,» you muttered, bowing your head as his hands slid down your waist, making you shiver. «I read it all, remember?»

You felt his cheeks burn and Jake came even closer, letting his warm breath touch your skin.

«The vampire,» he continued, with a low and deep voice, «takes the girl in his arms... holds her close to him...» And meanwhile, Jake recreated every movement. He pulled his hair to one side...» Jake did it. The tapered fingers gently picked your hair, revealing its bare neck. «... and start kissing her,» Jake ended, finally pressing his lips on your skin.

The first kiss was slow, almost innocent, but it was nothing more than a deception.

Jake continued to leave a trail of slow, warm kisses down his neck, the touch of his lips so light that it gave you the creeps. But then, suddenly, he sucked slightly at the skin and made a little surprised noise.

«That’s how you described it, wasn’t it? » he whispered in a low, husky voice.

You couldn’t answer it was impossible and Jake continued, alternating kisses and sucking, leaving a trail of marks on his fair skin. As if he wanted to mark it and then, without warning, he bit you.

A slight bite barely hinted at, but it was enough to give you a sound that had never come out of his lips before.

"J-Jakey..." moaned softly, clinging to him and Jake froze for a second. That nickname on your lips? Damn.

You felt his breath getting heavier, something in him had changed and it squeezed you even more.

«Y/n,» he muttered, returning to your neck, the voice more raucous than before. «Say it again.»

You shook your head, embarrassed and Jake said to you: «You will say it, because from this moment on, every sound that comes out of your mouth will be mine and you will moan my name.»

You were anxious when Jake continued his torturing game, alternating deep kisses, bites, and suckers; it seemed that he did not want to let you escape.

Your hands clenched in the fabric of his sweatshirt with legs slightly trembling around his hips.

«If you keep on like that...» Jake mumbled against your neck, his voice scratched by the birthmark, «I will not stop, angel.»

He gave you a second of his nickname: Angel.

Jake took a break, looking for his gaze. «Tell me what you want», he said with burning eyes.

You stared at him, then you did the only thing that you could do at that moment. You kissed him. A hungry, desperate kiss, without any hesitation and Jake moaning softly against your mouth, almost lost it altogether.

"I want to continue," you said softly, and Jake stared at you for a moment. «Good girl,» he muttered, kissing you again and gently making you lie in your bed and he looked at you this time with a look full of lust but also of sweetness and respect for you.

Jake slipped his hands on your hips and stroked those fucking bows you had in your shirt and wanted to tell you that at the fan meeting, he would want to touch you but maybe it was better not, Because otherwise you would be scared to know all that he had thought when he saw you live that day.

Grunts against your neck, sinking her teeth into a new area of skin and sucking where she had previously gently bit you «All my fucking», repeats, squeezing your hips tighter and rubbing up into your still fully covered pants and in your center ever closer to him, his lips separate from your neck with a loud, moist snap and connect to yours with enthusiasm, You pulled his hair slightly when you felt that he had added tongue and were rubbing up and down with your bodies.

"Jake" whispered with his lips as he looked into his eyes as if he wanted to reproduce all those scenes you had written with him as the protagonist, He touched your pajama shorts and with one movement pulled down both your pants and your panties and you did not expect this gesture and shivered in feeling your hot excited area but at the same time the temperature of the room that was cool.

Jake leaned slightly down and looked at your pussy which was already excited by the kisses, the lollipops he gave you, and the stimulation of rubbing up and down; «You’re a disaster here», comments, eyes lit up with joy as he sees you slightly wiggling in embarrassment and without wasting time slips his fingers and starts caressing your folds, the fingers that slip between your excitement with embarrassing ease.

«Fuck, you were just waiting for this, look ready for me!» His deep voice vibrated against your skin as he pressed his lips against your thigh. A small sigh fell from your lips as his tongue split your folds before wrapping her lips around your clitoris, sucking greedily and gently.

A high-pitched whimper escaped from your lungs as he clung back to your clitoris, his teeth brushing the little bundle of nerves, leaving you breathless. "Jake-Jakey!" you cursed, the hand flew to your mouth when he added two fingers at once, widening your walls even further.

Jake chuckled at you, savoring the way your thighs had begun to shake around his head. He knew you were close; you needed a little more to get there.

«Cum for me, baby; let me taste you on my tongue like a good girl.» He tubed before diving back into your sweet pussy.

His words were all you needed to give in, your back bowing against the bed, pushing your hips even more against his face as you came.

«Let go of yourself completely.»

"Ja-Jake" You complained, one of your hands tangled in its dark tufts as its nose pushed against your aching clitoris. It was only when you were withering away from the burning sensation of overstimulation that you gave.

He pulled his fingers soapy from your pussy and took them to his lips, licking away all your essence, making you moan behind your hand as you covered your face.

«Don’t be shy with me now, baby; you’re beautiful. Who knows what your readers would say if they knew that the writer of stories spicy now is moaning my name» He bowed, catching your lips with his in a deep and messy kiss.

«We both know you’re not shy, I bet when you were writing about me this pussy was completely excited!»

Your hand wrapped around his neck as you moaned at him for the taste of yourself on his lips.

"Jake, please." You felt his hips press against yours.

«Please, what, pretty girl?» He whispered as she walked away, leaning back over you.

"I need you so much, Jake." You cried, tears of need and despair filling your eyes, causing Jake to make a mockery of you. It was all so real what you were feeling and you were afraid that it was just a dream and you were selfish on your part but once in your life, you wanted to have Jake all for yourself and at that moment you wanted him inside of you with all of yourself. Next thing you know, he wrapped his arm around your hips, lifting them off the bed before grabbing the pillow near your head that you weren’t using. Putting it under your body, he made you lie down again before making sure that you were comfortable. Sitting down, he took off his suit and panties, letting his aching cock free. Then he put his big hand on your thigh, separating it once more.

A small lament came out of your lips at the sight of Soobin’s enormous size, you didn’t know if you would take it all.

«Are you ready, angel?» He asked, looking up at you and noticing that you were staring at him with wide eyes, but you still nodded. Giggling, he leaned over you, his lips touching yours again, «Words, Y/n»

"Yes, please!" you said looking at them cock while he sucked it lightly

His lips met yours as he pushed slowly against your narrow walls, swallowing all the sweet sounds you made.

«God you’re so fucking tight.» Jake moaned as you huddled around him.

He turned his hips, a choked groan came down from your lips as your hand wrapped around her biceps.

"Move, Jake, I’m not a doll." You choked, your head falling backward against the pillows while he kissed your neck, nibbling on your exposed collarbones.

«So impatient, I bet when you were writing those obscene things about me, you couldn’t have thought that I would take you so well ?» He chuckled before hitting your walls. His rhythm was anything but gentle; at every push, his tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a whiny mess.

"Jakey!" You shouted his name when he moved just enough to touch your weak point. Your nails got stuck in his shoulder pads while you tried to hold him even closer; he was just fucking you too well.

«Fuck baby, look how deep I am and how well you’re taking me.»

He moaned as you felt the outline of his cock against your stomach, you didn’t think that Jake whom everyone described as a good guy and some kind of puppy was fucking you so well and at the same time as you described him in your one-shot. "Jake! I am close," you cried, as you heard that spiral in the pit of your stomach tighten.

«Come for me, angel. Be a good girl and come all over my dick.» His words were the last drop before the edges of your sight became white and your body contracted under his.

His breaths began to come out with difficulty as she fucked you through your orgasm and closer to hers.

«Fuck, it’s so beautiful!» he crowed, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing down until he stopped, he lay down against you, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your heights.

Feeling finally recover, open your eyes, watching Jake as you raise your hand to run his fingers through his messy hair, he wraps himself around you and my his head over yours and kisses your forehead gently.

You were in Jake’s arms, still shaken by the intensity of what had just happened. He held you, with one hand gently caressing his back, and the other holding it close to him. Her lips were touching each other as they chuckled, as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving only them two.

«So?" Jake whispered, his voice soft but provocative, «Who was better? Me in real life or in your one-shot?» His eyes shone with amusement, while a mischievous smile brushed his lips.

You looked up at him, your heart still beating. "You are extremely good even in reality," you murmured your face that was tinged with a slight redness.

Jake looked at you intensely, as if he was trying to read every thought that passed through your mind. With a sweeter smile, he came closer, touching your face with one hand. «What is it?» He asked, more seriously, sensing something was wrong.

You looked down, feeling a knot in your throat. "It was beautiful," you said softly, "What we have lived together. But I know that, in a little while, you will return to your world, to your idol world. And I... you are just a dream that lasts for a short time."

Jake looked at you intensely, as if those words had struck him right in the heart. With a gesture that seemed to protect her from any doubt, he squeezed you even more tightly in his arms, as if he wanted to keep you there, safe, for a little longer.

«I don’t want it to end like this,» he said in a steady voice, a touch of sadness in the tone. « I want to do it with you again a thousand times. And I want to ask you something... a real proposition.»

You looked at him confused and surprised. Jake continued, chuckling with that usual lightness of his, but in his eyes, there was something deeper. «Would you like to go out with me, angel? A real date this time. No games, no pretenses. Just you and me?»

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[suguwu]

last light on: part one

Years after your break up, Itoshi Sae returns to Japan.

He finds he left more than just you behind.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

pairing: itoshi sae x f!reader, one-sided itoshi rin x f!reader

wc: 4k

cw: aged up characters/pro-footballer au, sae and reader have a named daughter together that reader hid from him, exes to lovers, complicated relationships.

notes: i couldn't contain myself any more. after several false starts (aka me posting and deleting while having a meltdown), here is the real thing. i owe my life to @lorelune for their input and advice on this fic—i cannot even begin to explain. anyway, i hope you enjoy this first part! please note this will have slow updates - please be patient with me, thank you!

Japan is a haunted place for Sae.

He forgets that, most days. He spends most of his time as far away as he can get. And Sae is not a man who lives in the past; he is focused on the future, on the endless horizon of upcoming days. 

Then he steps onto Japanese soil and remembers you. 

You live at the edge of his memory, gone wispy with the passing years. These days, you’re just the tilt of your lips; you’re the elegant slope of your shoulder. An outline of yourself, an imprint left behind on a foggy window. 

You’re a ghost of the worst kind: one of his own making. 

And Japan is your territory. You linger in the very air; he breathes in sea salt and thinks of the taste of your tears. It stirs something inside of him that he’s quick to ignore.

This trip is no different.

The plane lands at the first bloom of dawn, pink streaking across the sky like petals. Sae’s been up for a while, reviewing game footage on his iPad. He makes another note before he puts it away; there will be plenty of time to review more.

By the time he slides into the car, the sun is starting to peek over the horizon. The light is sweetly golden, soft and warm, and to his surprise, your smile flashes through his mind. It’s one of the things he’s never forgotten, but he keeps it tucked away, under the melon rind curve of the bitter smile you gave him when he left. 

He shakes off the memory. He starts the game footage again, his teal eyes sharp, a scalpel’s edge. He watches for a few more minutes before he sighs. He pauses it and takes out his phone, ignoring the notification from his manager. Instead, he navigates to Instagram.

It’s a relic of his past life. He’s never updated it since going pro; he can’t be bothered. He can’t even remember the last time he opened the app. Maybe to see what his PR team had posted on his official one. 

He clicks into his profile. The most recent post is almost as old as the account itself; it's the beach at twilight, the waves eating at the shore.

Right.

He'd deleted all his photos of you.

With a sigh, he navigates back to his feed. He scrolls a bit, flicking through most of the photos without a second glance. It’s all tepid, glimpses into tedious lives that he doesn’t care about. He’s just about to close the app down when something catches his eye.

It’s you.

Older now, but undoubtedly you. You’re facing away from the camera, but he knows the line of your neck, the swan’s wing curve of it. He swipes to the next photo in the set; you’re still in the background, but you’re in profile this time, lips tilted sweetly, wine-kissed. 

He swipes again, but you’re not in the next picture. When he glances at the caption, it doesn’t tell him anything, but you’ve commented. He clicks the link to your profile, but it doesn’t take him anywhere. His lips thin; he tries again and gets the same result. 

When he tries to search by your username, nothing comes up.

You’ve blocked him.

His brow furrows. It’s not entirely unexpected, but he had thought that the years might have softened you towards him. He sighs and tosses his phone onto the seat next to him before starting the game footage once more.

It’s for the best.

—

Sae does not dream often.

Or if he does dream, he simply doesn’t remember. He wakes in the morning and nothing lingers. There are only the cobwebs of sleep, which he blinks away with ease.

But tonight—his second night in Japan—he dreams of you. 

It’s hazy in that way that dreams often are. He knows it’s your first apartment, the one with the flickering porch light you always left on for him, but he can’t make sense of the rest. It fades into the background, leaving him with only the starglow of your eyes peeking over the horizon of your shoulder as you disappear from room to room. 

You weave through the apartment with easy grace. He follows until he doesn’t, watching you vanish into the kitchen—a tiny, cramped thing with plants stuck wherever they can fit. You glance back at him, half-devoured by shadows. There are tears shining on your cheeks. Your lips part, and as you start to speak—

He blinks awake. 

Sae stares up at the ceiling. He runs a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair and sits up. The hotel room is dim, the rising sun held at bay by the thick curtains. If he were someone else, he might think of the shadows that you peered out from, but he doesn’t. The dream is already fading. 

He gets out of bed. The curtains part under his hand; the sudden gleam of the sun makes him squint.

He opens the window, as he always does. The breath he takes is deep; it fills his lungs with the fresh bite of the morning air. It washes away all but the dregs of the dream. He takes another breath and buries those dregs deep.

He buries you.

—

Like all ghosts, you refuse to stay buried. 

By his fifth day in Japan, Sae has thought of you more than he has in years. He’s not sure what it is about this trip in particular; you’ve always returned to mind when he’s back, but never to this extent. 

It’s annoying.

With a sigh, he taps his pen against his notebook. He glances out the window and sees the hydrangeas waving in the breeze, tiny puffy clouds. He thinks of you, petal-bodied, and sighs again. He pulls out his phone and starts a text to his manager.

Sae has always been a man of action. 

He’ll exorcise you himself.

—

Your neighborhood reminds Sae of Kamakura. 

It’s nicer than he expected; a family neighborhood, based on the parents walking by with children perched on their hips like little birds. The houses are a mosaic of architecture, a few odd styles standing out, just like his childhood. It’s only missing the kiss of salt in the air, the sea’s eternal presence. Instead, there’s the earthiness of the park that cuts through it, pungent and grassy after the morning’s rain. 

He crosses the street as the light turns; according to Navitime, your house should be on the other side of the park. The foliage swallows him down, a verdant throat, before it spits him back out into a manicured playground. Children are laughing, bright peals of sound like summer windchimes. 

He glances at the parents lining the sides of the playground and blinks.

Sae thinks of the Instagram post from just a few days ago. He hadn’t paid much attention to who posted the pictures, but if he were to pull it up again, he knows exactly who it would be.

Rin.

Rin, who is currently staring at him from his spot next to you. 

It can only be you. There’s a ghost of the girl you were just under your skin, blooming like a spring bud. It’s in the way that you move; it’s in the way that your eyes gleam. The imprint of you that’s haunted him given new life. Made real again. 

You still haven’t noticed his brother’s early onset rigor-mortis, because your attention—your attention is on the little girl snuffling on your lap. 

She’s a tiny thing, no older than three. Her hair gleams cherry-dark in the sunlight, the faintest sheen of red shimmering through it, and when she blinks, her long clusters of lashes sweep across her cheek like clouds. She blinks again, slow and sleepy, and it’s all sunlit stained glass, her eyes a familiar shade of brilliant teal.

His shade of teal.

The world narrows. Sae takes a step forward without thinking about it. 

The little girl yawns. Her nose crinkles with it, twitching like a bunny’s. You lean down to nuzzle your nose against hers, a little smile unfurling on your lips, a night-blooming flower. She bats at you with a tiny hand before rubbing at her eyes.

Sae watches, entranced.

A shadow falls over him; a hand pushes against his chest. He glances up into burning turquoise eyes. 

“Rin,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

Rin steps closer. His lean muscles are coiled tight; his lip curls back in a snarl. He’s blocked Sae’s view of you and the girl, a sheepdog circling his lambs. 

“Stay away from them,” he spits out.

Sae blinks. “Hello to you too.”

“I’m not here to say hello. Stay away from them.” 

He’d known. Sae has always had a quick mind; on the field, he needs only the smallest glimpse of information to put together the puzzle pieces, to build his strategy. He’d known as soon as he’d seen his daughter, but this—Rin and his bared fangs, Rin and the fear trembling just beneath his fiery tone—it confirms everything. 

He has a child.

“Them,” Sae muses. “So the kid is hers. Mine, too.”

Rin’s hand flexes at his side, his long fingers twitching. “Go away.”

Sae raises a brow. “It’s a public park,” he points out.

Rin scowls, moving fluidly with Sae as his brother tries to step around him. “She doesn’t want to see you,” he says. 

“She can tell me that herself.”

“Not telling you should speak for itself.”

Sae lets out a breath. “You can’t stop me, Rin.”

“You don’t deserve them,” Rin says, his turquoise eyes aflame, flaring like the auroras in the night sky. 

Sae realizes that he is not the only one you haunt.

“And you do?”

Rin goes stiff. 

Sae hums. “Does she know you’re still sniffing after her?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a no.”

“At least I’ve been there. At least she wanted me there.”

Sae’s jaw flexes. “But she still doesn’t notice you.”

“You—”

“Sae?” you say. Your voice warbles, delicate birdsong, his name sweet on your tongue. 

Rin flinches. 

A little smirk flickers to life on Sae’s lips. Rin’s fingers flex, his glare deepening, but he wavers as you step closer. It gives Sae an opening. He claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he pushes past him. 

Rin makes a sharp noise, but Sae ignores him.

You're his focus now.

There was a time that your eyes lit up when you saw Sae, but as he draws closer, he sees only wariness. A wolf with its lips drawn back, giving a glimpse of teeth. Not yet bared, but the promise of a bite. 

“Sae.”

That airy warble is gone; your voice has settled into something cooler, the first kiss of winter on an autumn day. There’s a slight furrow to your brow, but Sae still knows you. There’s a tremble to your lower lip; there’s sorrow tucked up secret in the corner of your mouth.

He says your name. Watches the way you cup your daughter (his daughter) closer to you, her little face burrowed in the gentle curve of your neck. You have one hand cradling the back of her head, as delicate as a dove’s wing, your fingers splayed like feathers.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“Looking for you.”

Something flickers across your face, a fleeting summer storm. 

“Japan, Sae. Why are you in Japan.”

He shrugs. “It’s still my home, you know.”

“Is it?”

Your daughter makes a small, musical noise, shifting in your arms. You hush her, humming softly until she falls still again, lulled back into sleep. Sae watches the way her little hand curls into your sweater, tiny fingers anchoring her to you. 

(He wonders, briefly, if she would hold onto him in the same way.)

"What's her name?" he asks.

"Why do you care?"

He sighs. "Games don't suit you," he says. "Tell me my daughter's name."

Something in you hardens, frost spiraling across a river's surface.

"Rin," you say quietly, and his brother steps in front of him again, blocking his view of you and his daughter. He flexes his fingers as Rin scoops up the little girl; she mumbles quietly before settling against his lean shoulder. It's easy, born of familiarity, and something in Sae grows teeth.

"One brother wasn't enough for you?" he asks.

Rin whips around, fury lining him like a cloak, splitting through him like a thunderclap. Your hand comes up to rest on his other shoulder, restraining him with the most delicate of touches. An owner pulling her dog's collar.

"It's fine," you tell Rin. "Can you settle her in the stroller, please?"

Rin's turquoise eyes are aflame, burning like a comet's tail through the velvet sky. He stares down Sae for another breath before he turns back to you.

He leans in close; too close for Sae to hear what he says to you.

You nod, and Rin sends Sae one last glare before he walks away, carefully cradling the little girl in his arms. Sae's gaze catches on her small form; he thinks of the sea foam that washes up onto the shore, too delicate to last.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, turning back to you.

You meet his gaze steadily. "You wouldn't have stayed."

Sae shoves his hands in his pockets; he stays quiet. You watch him, your lips curling down at the edges, like wilting leaves.

"What do you want, Sae?"

"My daughter."

"You can't have her," you say. "You'll break her heart."

"Like I broke yours?"

"You didn't break my heart, Sae."

He watches you for a moment. You meet his gaze steadily, but he sees the cracks in you. The ghost of who you were before he left you behind. The girl you’ve grown out of, her skin too small for the woman you’ve become. 

"Yes," he says. "I did."

You sigh. "Go home, Sae."

"I will," he says easily. "But not without her."

You stiffen. "You'd take her from me?"

"No," he says. "You're coming too."

"Fuck off."

He steps in close, until he can feel your body heat, until he can hear the soft breath you suck in. Longing cuts across your face, a wound torn open. It’s gone in a breath, but Sae sees it.

"You miss me," he says. "Don't you?"

"Fuck off, Sae."

"That's not a no."

Your hand comes up as he pushes closer; you splay it across his chest. The heat of it sinks through his shirt, like spring sunlight, gentle and warm. He waits, but you don't shove him away. He wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking his thumb over the tender underside. Your eyelashes flutter, a butterfly’s wing.

"You miss me," he says. "Say it."

"I miss you," you breathe.

The words are delicate, spider’s silk. They linger in the space between you, a gleaming web spun from your trembling lips.

Sae leans closer, until he can smell the honeysuckle-kiss of your shampoo. 

"Then let me in."

You let out a shaky breath. Your fingers flex against his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt.  "Sae—"

"Yeah?"

"No," you say, finally shoving him away. He steps back gracefully, his face impassive. “Don’t do this to me. You won’t stay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I do.”

Sae studies you. Your eyelashes are damp; one of them has caught on your cheek, a dandelion seed. There’s an urge to reach out and sweep it away with his thumb. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“Do you give Rin this hard a time about leaving?” he asks.

“That’s different.”

“Not really.”

“Sae.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

You purse your lips, a flower bud pinching shut. “This isn’t about Rin.”

He glances past you. At the edge of the playground, his brother is rocking the stroller with long, practiced movements. It’s a strange picture, this snapshot of Rin; his ease speaks of a life already lived. 

Rin leans down; he’s reaching for the girl’s foot, kicked over the side of the stroller. Sae stares at that tiny foot, cupped carefully in the palm of Rin’s hand.

“You’re right,” he says. “It’s not.”

He returns his gaze to you. 

“It’s about my daughter.”

Something flashes across your face; Sae thinks of the last days of summer, the slow swallow of them.

“You mean my daughter,” you say. “She’s not yours.” 

He sighs. “We both know she is.”

“No,” you say. “Not in any way that matters.” 

Sae was stung by a sea urchin, once. He’d stepped on it in the shallows, its prickly body hidden amid the shadowed, worn rocks of the tidepool. The spine had pierced through the bottom of his foot; he’d bled. He hadn’t been able to play soccer for a week.

But he hadn’t held it against the sea urchin. 

It was just protecting itself.

“I would say helping create her matters rather significantly.”

(Okay. He had held it against the urchin. A week was a long time to be banned from soccer.)

“It doesn’t,” you say. 

Sae tilts his head. “If that was true, you wouldn’t be so scared right now.”

You flinch.

“I’m not—”

“You are.” 

Quiet falls between you. Your eyes flash in the sunlight; Sae thinks of heat lightning, how it never touches the ground. 

“You’re right,” you say, so softly that it’s almost lost to the wind. “I’m scared.”

He waits. 

“Tell me I don’t have to be.”

Sae glances past you again. He wishes he could see into the stroller, that he could see his daughter’s face again.

“I can’t.”

Your face crumples, delicate origami crushed in a fist. 

(You have always reminded Sae of the lacquered origami that’s scattered around your bedroom like stars. Like them, you’re tough enough to protect yourself against the elements, but underneath it all, you’re still paper.) 

The creased paper edges of your devastation slice through Sae, scoring the tender underbelly of him, the part he’d thought had long hardened against such cuts. He thinks of roshambo; perhaps he should have known.

Paper always beats rock. 

But if he’s cut, you’re wounded, a deep, terrible thing. You’re curling in on yourself, just slightly, as if that can staunch the sorrow seeping from you. Your lower lip trembles, but Sae can see the anger starting to filter in, a sunset bleeding across the horizon. 

You blink away your unshed tears; the remnants of them leave your lashes glistening, the sunlight catching in them like a prism. Sae watches you piece yourself back together, your anger the glue, glowing through you in kintsugi gold. 

You take a deep breath.

“You’re such an asshole,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t bother to refute it. He knows this is where most people would apologize, but he won’t. Not for telling you the truth. 

“I want to see her,” he says instead. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

You go stiff, a marionette pulled upright by its strings. He wonders if you’re thinking of what you both know: Sae does not ask for things. He does them, consequences be damned. It’s an olive branch, one barely blooming, a twig of a thing. But it’s there. 

“No.”

Sae doesn’t flinch, but he feels his jaw go tight, his teeth clicking together, bone against bone. He flexes his fingers at his side.

“You—” he starts, voice chilled, a blade of ice. 

“You can’t just walk into her life,” you say, cutting him off sharply.  

It stops him in his tracks. He’s not used to that, not anymore. People tend to listen when he talks. The surprise keeps him from responding, giving you enough time to add: 

“And you can’t just walk back into mine.”

He doesn’t need long to recover, though. “Even though you miss me.”

Your expression twists, souring at the edges, the first hint of rot in overripe fruit. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I don’t care what you think, Sae.”

“Yes,” he says, “You do.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, denting the plush flesh. “You’re such an asshole,” you tell him again. 

“I know.”

The wind picks up; it catches at your clothing, plucking at it with playful fingers. You smooth the fluttering fabric back down with a trembling hand. 

“You can’t see her,” you say softly. “She won’t understand.”

“Won’t understand what?”

“Why you have to leave again.”

“You don’t know that.”

You sigh. “I do,” you say. “It’s hard enough with—” 

You pause, clamping your mouth shut before you can finish your sentence. Something cold curls through Sae, a winter river that snakes between the banks of his ribs. 

“With Rin, right?” he asks. “It’s hard enough with Rin.”

You watch him for a moment, your eyes wary, a rabbit peeking out from the brush. You nod.

Sae exhales through his nose. “I see,” he says coldly.

You wince. “Sae—”

“Don’t.”

It’s not his usual calm tone. It’s shatterglass, keen-edged and ready to cut. He hates it. 

Your eyes widen. There’s something in your expression that Sae doesn’t want to name. It catches beneath his skin like a burr, sharp and unrelenting. 

“Sae,” you say softly. “I—”

A piercing cry rents the air, splits it apart like a blade. Sae blinks, but you’re already whirling around, heading for the tree Rin has settled under with the stroller. His brother is hefting the screaming girl into his arms, his big hand stroking along the slip of her spine, but she’s still wailing, a high, animal keen. She reaches for you as soon as she sees you, her chubby hands grasping at air.

She buries her face in your neck as you cradle her. Sae’s too far to hear what you’re murmuring, but her wailing starts to trail off. Your hand settles at the back of her head, cupping her close, a gentle promise. 

Sae steps forward just as Rin shifts, curling around you like a shield. There’s a flash of turquoise heat; Rin’s expression is a dare.

He should know better. Sae has never been one to back down. 

He ignores Rin and comes closer, until your voice floats to him. It’s softer now, but it’s steady. Sure. 

“It was a scary dream, huh?” you say, pressing a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head. “It’s okay. You’re awake now. Let’s go home, yeah?”

The girl’s answer is lost in the salt of your skin, her face still glued into the curve of your neck. You seem to understand the squashed words perfectly, though. You hum an agreement and adjust her in your arms. She finally peels away from the cradle of your neck. There’s silvery tear tracks mapped across her chubby cheeks. From under her wet eyelashes, there’s a peek of teal, a crescent moon of familiar color. She sobs again, low and wrenching.

Something twists through Sae, a tender bruise being pressed. He takes another step forward, but before he gets close enough to garner your attention, Rin slinks forward, blocking him.

Sae gives him a sharp look, but Rin’s thundercloud scowl only darkens. 

“Not now,” his brother hisses. “Are you stupid, you shitty brother?”

Sae glances past him. His daughter has buried her face in your neck again; only the sunset sheen of her hair is visible. You’re curled protectively around her even as you search the stroller for something. 

Sae is not one to back down, but he also knows how to pick his battles. 

He nods to Rin; his brother blinks, his scowl softening in his surprise. Rin watches him for a moment before clicking his tongue. He doesn’t nod back, but Sae doesn’t need him to. 

Sae watches as Rin turns back to you and coaxes the stroller out of your grip. 

“Let’s go,” he says gruffly.

“Okay,” you say, hushing the girl as she whimpers softly. “Got everything?”

“Yeah.”

You glance back at Sae. It’s only for a breath. For a moment, he thinks you’ll say something, but you don’t. You turn around and start down the park’s path, Rin pushing the stroller at your side.

Sae watches until the verdant throat of the park swallows the three of you up.

You don’t look back again.

[minswriting]

Show Me Who You Are - A.H x Reader

About: Aaron scrolls on twitter when he finds a profile that interests him. You, a beautiful cam girl, captivated Aaron’s attention and he can’t help but subscribe to your OnlyFans

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, masturbation (f & m), camgirl reader, dildos, toys, vibrators, lingerie, simp hotch lol, horny hotch, lowkey pathetic hotch, etc.

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: Border made by @cafekitsune! Please comment and reblog to support your creators. Proof read by @mariasont teehee.

Aaron Hotchner is a man with great self-control. He prided himself on his professionalism and control. He admired the fact that he could take on a really hard case and come home to be a happy father to his son. He always tried his best to ensure that his personal life never affected his professional relationships. He deprived himself of certain luxuries simply because he didn’t need them.

He only ate when he needed to, survived solely on coffee, and his outlet for the stress of his job was simply to come home and be a good father to his son. However, sometimes that got too much, and he needed relief that he hardly let himself indulge in.

Masturbating.

Aaron was never one to really jerk off. When he needed a sexual release, he preferred to have sex as he found that much more valuable than something as trivial as self-pleasure. And yet, here he was, in his office at home with his pants unbuttoned as he scrolled on his computer. He had just been so stressed recently, and nothing, not even working out, gave him any relief. Sexual frustration is indeed a thing, and unfortunately, he’s been quite dry in the sex department.

He knew he could go onto PornHub to find something mindless but hot to get himself off. But the staged porn scene was never something that got him going. He was a man who needed something real. He knew that Twitter had a lot of porn and therefore, he was mindlessly scrolling, trying to find something that he could get off to.

There were multiple accounts of women getting themselves off in very obscene sorts of ways. Sucking on dildos with loads of drool pooling from their lips, multiple vibrators inside of themselves, very much porn made for the sole purpose of getting men to give their money. Aaron would never shame anyone for such a profession. It’s admirable, even. But it’s hard to find it attractive when it’s very much…male gaze oriented. And unfortunately, Aaron didn’t really like the whole “male gaze” ideology in the media. He liked things to be real, for people to be their authentic selves.

As Aaron scrolled, he was ready to give up. To just go take a cold shower and call it a night. Just as he was about to stop scrolling, he stumbled across a profile that intrigued him. A video of a woman, dressed in beautiful purple lingerie, smiling adorably at the camera was the first thing he was met with. And in that moment, he was truly captivated by you.

You were simply chatting as if it were nothing more than a YouTube video as you spoke about your day. You were just sat on what Aaron assumed was your bed, dressed in that adorable set, talking about anything and everything. And at the end of the video, you winked, telling people to subscribe to your OnlyFans for more content.

And so, of course, Aaron was curious as he clicked the link in your bio. The first image he was met with was of you, winking at the camera with your hands over your tits, leaving something of the imagination. At that moment, he knew he had to subscribe to view your other content. Let’s just say he had the most mind blowing orgasm that night as he watched you finger yourself for an hour.

The following week, Aaron focused on his work. His mind was much more clear than it had been in some time, he wasn’t as stressed as he had been before, and weirdest of all? He actually smiled a few times while talking to the other members of the team. Although he was indeed more focused, Aaron couldn’t help his thoughts when they’d go back to you. He had been avoiding looking at your content while away, not wanting to overindulge himself in such a way that it would affect what he needs to do.

When Aaron had finally come home from the case, he was grateful that it was late and therefore, Jack would be staying at Jessica’s for the night simply because Aaron truly just wanted to let off some steam.

He belined to his bedroom, placing his things down on the floor. He got himself undressed, leaving his boxers on before lying down on his bed. He opened up OnlyFans on his phone and was immediately greeted with your gorgeous face. Aaron couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on his lips as he looked at you. This was totally uncharacteristic of him, to be this excited over a woman he had never even met. And yet, here he was.

He opened your profile, looking at the most recent video you had posted. It was a forty-five minute video titled “Wishing It Were One Of You Instead” and Aaron was instantly hooked. He pressed the video and turned his phone onto the side so that it was full-screen since he’s an old man and can’t see.

The video began with you sitting on your bed, dressed in a baby pink silk negligee, speaking softly at the camera as you spoke about your day. This was something that Aaron had quickly come to realize was part of every video and he adored it. It added a level of intimacy that wasn’t just purely sexual and made it feel more real. As you went on, you began organizing some things off screen, likely toys if Aaron had to guess.

By about the five minute mark, you got yourself comfortable on your mattress with a rose toy in hand. “I’ve been so stressed out today. So what better way to handle the stress than to have you guys watch me cum?” You said seductively to the camera with an adorable smirk as you opened your legs for the camera, showing off your glistening cunt. You placed the toy next to you, using your fingers to spread your pussy lips.

Aaron let out a soft breath, his cock hardening in his boxers as he continued watching you. You were truly the embodiment of beauty and essence with a seductive innocence. You were more classy than Hotch had imagined one could be when they’re masturbating to the world. Aaron was merely a horny man, falling into your traps and he wasn’t mad about it at all.

You took your pointer finger and dragged it along yourself, spreading around your wetness. “I’m so wet,” You breathed out. “Wish you guys were here to feel.”

Aaron licked his lips as he slid his left hand down himself to his clothed cock. He gently palmed himself as he watched you. He was already so hard by the simplest actions. You made him feel young again, being turned on so easily. Perhaps that was also part of the allure.

You began rubbing your clit, letting out the tiniest moans that went straight to Aaron’s cock. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he slipped his hand to the waistband of his boxers, pulling him down enough to let his cock spring free. The tip was red and begging for attention as he was already leaking precum.

You dipped a finger inside of yourself, letting out the most heavenly sounding moan. “Fuck,” Aaron whispered as he gripped himself. He swirled his thumb along the tip of his cock, eliciting a sharp inhale. He began pumping himself slowly, matching the rhythm you were making for yourself.

After a few minutes, you grabbed the rose that was next to you, turning it on to the highest vibration before placing it onto your clit. The whine that left your lips had Aaron about to bust right then and there but he controlled himself, gripping the base of his cock in an attempt to calm himself down. He wanted this to last until he was ready to cum.

You continued fingering yourself and using the rose toy on your clit. The sensations of both pleasures cause your eyes to roll back and toes to curl. “Oh my god,” you moaned.

Aaron bit his lip, resuming his movements. He stroked himself slowly, relishing in watching you. He felt a bit pathetic, getting off to some woman on the internet he hadn’t ever met. Maybe he should even feel disgusted with himself, he’s caught bad guys that do this sort of thing. But alas, here he was, jerking his penis to a random woman that he was heavily attracted to.

As Aaron watched you, he couldn’t help imagining how you must taste. With a cunt that pretty and wet, you likely tasted divine. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy, to lap his tongue around and take in all of your juices. You wouldn’t need the rose toy when Aaron was sucking on your clit instead.

After about ten minutes, you stopped to allow yourself time to breathe as you let out a breathless laugh into the camera. “This is always so much fun,” You said softly. “But now it’s time for a bit more,” You exclaimed before reaching behind the camera and revealing it to the camera. In your hand was an eight inch dildo that was girthy and veiny. The way Aaron immediately glanced at his cock and then back at the dildo was wild. “With my favorite dildo,” you added to your sentence, grinning at the camera before settling back down on the mattress.

It added to the fantasies racing through his brain. The fact your favorite dildo was exactly what Aaron’s cock looked like had him feeling almost feral. Maybe it’s been far too long since he’s been laid but he’s honestly becoming so down bad for you.

You inserted the dildo with ease, showing just how frequently you used the specific toy. Aaron groaned as he continued to jerk himself off, meeting your movements. His imagination ran wild as he thought of all the ways he could have you. Bent over his desk, taking you from behind as he watched your ass jiggle from the harshness of his thrusts. Or on his bed on your back as he fucked you nice and slow, taking his time to explore you. Or maybe have you on your knees, taking Aaron’s cock in your pretty little mouth.

God, he was pathetic. And god, he loved it.

You began moving the toy faster inside of you, your whines and moans getting louder as you fucked yourself. Aaron matched your pace, stroking himself faster as well. The video filled his bedroom with the noises of your moans and the slick sounds of the dildo fucking your cunt. Aaron didn’t shy away from making his own noises, grunting and moaning with pleasure.

“Feels so good,” you whimpered at the camera. The straps of your silk nightdress fell as you continued fucking yourself. Your tits bounced with each movement, spilling from the material. “I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out. And with a few more thrusts of the dildo, you let out a high pitched whine as you arched your back, thighs shaking and toes curling as your orgasm washed over you.

“Holy shit,” Aaron groaned as he watched you. That heat in his abdomen building as he pumped himself even faster. And soon, he was letting out a choked grunt, his cock stiffening in his hand before releasing his cum. He painted his chest and stomach with his cum.

When he finished, Aaron was breathing heavily as he glanced down at himself. He had almost forgotten about the video until you had spoken into the camera. “Well,” you said breathily. “That’s all, folks.” You let out a small giggle. “If you enjoyed it, perhaps you’d be inclined to send me a gift. Feel like buying me a gift? My P.O. box is in my bio.” And with that, the video ended.

Aaron laid there for a while, taking in the post-orgasmic bliss he was feeling. When he eventually came down from it, he took a deep breath before scrolling to find your P.O. box address. And with an idea, he decided to order something for you online. Maybe you’ll never use it but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

And lo and behold, when next week came and you uploaded a new video, the video was of you, getting off to a very large monster dildo that Aaron had gifted you.

[sosasturns]

✶⋆.˚ REDDIT RABBIT HOLE n MOANS ,, MATT STURNIOLO IN WHICH MATT IS AN NSFW VOICE ACTOR ON REDDIT

u/MrMunch667 · 1d · Verified!

NSFW [M4F] Alone again… [Ramblefap] [Whimpering] [Male moans] [Tons of Begging] [Edging] [Real Orgasm]

LISTEN [10:58]

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

it started as a joke. your friend—who was way too deep into the world of nsfw audio—sent you link after link, swearing up and down that the right voice could change your life.

"it’ll never be me," you scoffed, deleting the messages without opening them. but she was persistent, always bringing it up in conversation, laughing about the audios she found, talking about her favorite voice actors. eventually, one night, curiosity won.

you weren’t sure what did it, if it was boredom or intrigue, but you clicked on one. then another. and another. and suddenly, you were hooked. there was just something about the rawness of it, the way it felt so personal, like someone was whispering just for you. it was hot, undeniably so. so much so that you ended up making a reddit account just to save your favorites. you told yourself it was just in case.

then you stumbled across him.

u/mrmunch667.

nothing about his profile stood out—no personal details, no flashy bio, just a simple: new audios every week. male. i am 22. single. 18+ please dni if you're a minor (:

the backwards smiley caught your attention. it reminded you of matt. he always used them when he texted.

but that was stupid, right? it could be anyone.

so you ignored it. and you listened. and then you listened again. and again. every week, without fail, you found yourself checking for his new posts. saving. upvoting. sometimes, you even commented. and then, one day, you got a reply.

1 notification on reddit: u/mrmunch667 replied to your comment on r/gonewildaudio.

LMAO don’t wanna know what the means

that was when you knew you were in too deep.

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

matt was just a friend. someone you saw in group settings, always surrounded by mutuals. you'd never hung out alone, never had a one-on-one moment that wasn’t just passing conversation at a party or game night. he was just matt. your friend.

so when plans got canceled last minute, leaving just the two of you, it was weird.

but he didn’t make it weird. he was casual, like always, inviting you in with a lazy half-smile and a scratch at his jaw. “guess it’s just us, huh?”

he gave you a quick tour of his place, leading you through the hallway with easy strides. “this is my room,” he said, pushing open the door. normal. plain. some framed posters, a neatly made bed, a desk setup. “desktop’s just for gaming ‘n stuff.”

stuff?

you didn’t ask. you just nodded. “cool.”

back in the living room, he threw on a movie—basic instinct (1992)—and settled in beside you. it was fine at first. comfortable, even. but then he started shifting. clearing his throat. adjusting the blanket over his lap. it wasn’t until the next sex scene that you noticed.

his breath hitched.

you glanced over. bad move.

his head was steady, eyes locked on the screen, but his fingers twitched against his knee. his thighs tensed. then, under the blanket, his hand moved. like he was hiding something.

“you good?”

he hummed. “mhm.”

suspicious.

but you didn’t piece it together until you leaned over him, reaching for the remote. his breath stuttered, a barely-there grunt slipping free.

your eyes snapped to him. “sorry. didn’t know you liked the movie that much.”

“no, i don’t—i mean, i do. it’s jus… your hand was close to my dick—.”

“matt are you hard?”

silence.

“…matt.”

he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before finally looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, almost guilty, but there was something else there too. something like want.

he swallowed. “yeah.”

heat pooled in your stomach. you shifted closer, pulse kicking up. “would you… um. would you like some help?”

he blinked. then, slowly, he nodded.

you shifted closer, deliberate and teasing, letting your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, dragging your palm over his sweats just to feel the twitch beneath. he sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t make a sound.

even when you slipped under the blanket, hand slipping beneath the waistband, wrapping around him, he only let out these shallow, uneven exhales. restrained.

stingy.

so you pushed.

you stroked him slow, teasing, dragging your thumb over the leaking tip, pressing into the slit just enough to make his thighs twitch. he jerked in your grip, body betraying him, but he still didn’t give you what you wanted.

until you tugged his sweats down, freeing him, and replaced your hand with the wet heat of your mouth—warm, soft, perfect.

then he cracked.

a sound ripped from him, low and broken, like it had been forced out, something he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and oh, that did something to you.

you hummed, letting him feel the vibration of it, and his whole body jolted. his hand flew to his mouth, teeth sinking into his knuckles, his other fisting the blanket like his life depended on it.

pathetic.

and god, that made you ache.

so you kept going, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, dragging your tongue along the underside, sucking just enough to make him squirm. his thighs trembled beneath your palms, stomach clenching with every shaky inhale, but he was still holding back. biting down on his hand, muffling himself.

not for long.

you took him deeper, inch by inch, until the tip nudged the back of your throat. his abs tensed, a breathy oh, fuck slipping past his lips. his chest was rising and falling fast now, fingers digging into the couch cushion, every muscle locked up tight as he fought to stay quiet.

you wanted to ruin that restraint.

so you did.

you hollowed your cheeks, swallowing around him, keeping him there, waiting until his whole body shook before dragging off slow, sucking him back in like you needed it. like he was something to savor.

then he broke.

his hand slipped from his mouth, head tipping back against the couch as a moan ripped from his throat. not quiet, not restrained, just raw, desperate pleasure.

you felt it everywhere.

and then it got worse for him.

because now that he wasn’t holding back, he couldn’t stop.

the whimpers, gasped curses, frantic little please, fuck, feels s’good, more, don’t stop-‘s.

his voice.

his voice.

the realization sent heat flooding through you, a throb pulsing between your thighs. him. it was him.

you moaned against him, nails scraping lightly down his thighs, and his whole body jerked, another wrecked, ruined sound spilling from his lips.

he was falling apart, and you were loving it.

so you didn’t let up. you doubled down, took him deeper, swallowed around him until he choked on a sobbed moan, hips stuttering, thighs trembling. his body was so tense, like he was fighting against something inevitable—losing.

and then he did.

he came with a broken moan, hips lifting off the couch, cum spilling hot and thick down your throat as he trembled through it. his stomach clenched, his chest heaved, his hand flew back over his mouth—biting down again, probably to stop himself from making another noise.

again, pathetic.

you pulled off him slowly, swallowing, licking the corner of your mouth before glancing up at him.

his eyes were hazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling hard. absolutely wrecked.

you tilted your head, smirking.

“way better than being alone again, huh?”

matt just blinked at you, still trying to remember how to fucking breathe.

you never did find out if matt was mrmunch667. but after countless ‘hangouts’ later, you were pretty sure you could put a face to those sounds.

@ sosasturns

sosa’s notes: got nsfw va (sub)!matt on lockdown… props to my fren bernardsbendystraws’s post for the idea. we outside w this 1 chat!

nsfw va matt: