#if he turns out to be straight i will be ignoring it completely

[carnalcrows]

TEACHER'S PET - SANGWOO

pairing: professor! sangwoo x student! bottom male reader

synopsis: A struggling college athlete strikes a risky deal with his professor, unaware of the secrets lurking beneath the surface.

content warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is 21 and sang-woo is in his 40's), teacher x student, cheating, blood, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader is a himbo and is slightly muscular.

word count: 2.5k

The classroom was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of Professor Cho Sangwoo’s fingers against his desk. You were only half-paying attention, your gaze drifting to the window as he continued his lecture on financial markets—whatever that meant. Numbers weren’t exactly your thing, and honestly, you were just waiting for class to be over so you could hit the gym.

“Since you all love talking so much, let’s see if you actually understand today’s lesson,” Sangwoo announced, his voice smooth yet carrying an edge of boredom. He scanned the room, eyes narrowing slightly before landing on you. “You.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

A few chuckles echoed in the lecture hall, but Sangwoo ignored them. He leaned casually against his desk, adjusting his tie. “I asked what the three main types of financial markets are.”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for anything resembling an answer. “Uh… stocks?”

Sangwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s one.”

“Um… crypto?”

Someone in the back actually snorted. You gave them a glare before looking back at Sangwoo, who only smiled, but not in a nice way. “Stay after class,” he said simply before moving on to another student.

You slumped in your seat. Great.

When the lecture finally ended, your classmates trickled out in pairs and groups, leaving you alone with your professor. You adjusted the strap of your sports bag and walked up to his desk, scratching the back of your head.

“Sir?” you said hesitantly. “Uh, about earlier—”

“You’re failing my class.”

That was the first thing he said, cutting straight to the point. His voice was calm, but there was something in his gaze that made you shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I figured,” you admitted with a nervous chuckle. “Numbers aren’t really my thing.”

Sangwoo just stared at you, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You do realize that if you fail my class, your scholarship could be revoked, correct?”

You blinked. That… wasn’t good. You needed that scholarship. It was the only reason you were here in the first place.

“But—”

“I could help you,” Sangwoo interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. “Private tutoring, after hours. One-on-one.”

“Oh, sweet! That’d be great,” you said, completely missing the shift in the air. “Man, I knew you weren’t as scary as people say.”

Sangwoo’s eyes gleamed. “Right,” he said. “Not scary at all.”

You waited in the empty lecture hall, tapping your fingers against your desk. Most of the students had already gone home, the hallways eerily quiet as the late afternoon sun cast golden streaks through the high windows. You shifted in your seat, rolling your shoulders. This felt… weird. One-on-one tutoring? You barely studied in regular classes—what were the odds this would actually help?

The door creaked open.

You turned, watching as Sangwoo stepped inside. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit jacket, just his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. He carried his leather briefcase in one hand, and in the other, a slim stack of papers.

“You actually showed up,” he mused, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“You told me to.” You leaned back, grinning lazily. “Not really one to disobey orders, sir.”

He set his briefcase down, eyeing you for a beat too long before moving to the desk at the front of the class. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered. Then, louder: “Let’s start.”

For the next twenty minutes, he actually taught. Well, sort of. He wrote on the board, explained concepts you didn’t understand, and made you do problems from his worksheet. Your brain, slow as it sometimes was, genuinely tried to keep up. You weren’t failing because you didn’t care—you just weren’t good at this stuff.

At some point, Sangwoo moved behind you, leaning over to check your work. The weight of his presence sent a strange shiver down your spine. His voice was low, smooth, almost teasing as he pointed out your mistakes.

“Not quite,” he murmured. “Try again.”

You exhaled sharply. “God, I suck at this.”

“You suck at a lot of things,” he said, tone unreadable. “But you’re good at listening.”

Your brow furrowed at his choice of words. Before you could question it, he reached over, guiding your hand as you wrote out an equation. His fingers were steady, firm over yours. Too close.

You swallowed. The air in the room changed, thickened with something unsaid. You turned your head slightly, only to find that Sangwoo was already looking at you. His dark eyes lingered, searching, waiting.

The moment stretched.

Then, he moved.

His hand slid from yours, trailing up your wrist, your forearm. You should’ve said something, maybe pulled away, but the way he looked at you—the quiet intensity in his eyes—made your brain short-circuit.

His fingers brushed your jaw. Your breath hitched.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, practiced, like he had been waiting for this—like he already knew you wouldn’t resist.

Your back hit the desk, Sangwoo pressing forward, one hand bracing against the wood while the other curled around the nape of your neck. His lips moved against yours with a kind of certainty that made your stomach tighten, that made your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt.

A quiet, broken sound left your throat as his teeth scraped against your bottom lip, as his hands roamed lower, as his body slotted perfectly against yours.

His hands went to the curve of your ass– gripping on the supple flesh as he pulled you closer into him. They trailed to the front, tugging your sweatpants off with a firm tug– making you gasp in surprise.

You looked at him with wide eyes, which only seemed to turn him on even more. He pressed his lips back onto yours before sliding one hand down your boxers, pulling your hard cock out of its confinements– the cool air making you shudder.

He turned you around so that your stomach was on the desk, and lifted your ass up– groaning at the sight of your hole puckering around nothing. He pulled out a packet of lube from his front pocket, did he come prepared for this?, before he ripped it open and spilled its contents onto your hole.

Before you could say anything, he slid the head of his cock in– eyes clenching shut at how you hole pulled him in. You gripped at the desk– having never been stretched out like this before.

“God– so tight f’me aren’t you love, “ he groans in your ear before sliding all the way in– making your back arch. “Only for you sir–” you manage to say before he pulls out and slams back in, making you scream.

He fucked into you at a relentless pace, the uncomfortable positon of your pelvis getting bruised by the edge of the table did nothing to you know. He was making you see stars.

He held you by the waist as you clenched around him– almost making it unable for him to move. You were practically milking the older man dry.

“Getting fucked by your professor for a few extra marks– what a filthy little slut you are, hm?”he mocked, getting riled up at the way you merely moaned, not being able to make sense of what he was saying. Your head was filled with the thought of his cock pistoning in you. 

It wasn’t like your head had much in it anyway.

Soon, he felt himself on the verge of a release, and came in you without warning– painting your insides a pearly white.

You came untouched, practically screaming as your cock spurted out ropes of cum onto the desk. He stayed nestled in you for a while, before slowly pulling out, his cum leaking out of your hole.

He felt himself getting hard again.

It was going to be a long session.

The next time you tried to do the homework he assigned, you realized you had learned absolutely nothing in that tutoring session.

Not about commerce, at least.

Giving up on that, you were sitting outside on the campus lawn with a few of your teammates, lazily picking at your food while the others chatted around you. It was the usual mix of locker-room banter and weekend plans, but you weren’t really paying attention. Your focus had shifted to the faculty building in the distance, where a familiar figure stood near the entrance.

Sangwoo.

Your professor looked different outside of the classroom. Less stiff, more relaxed. And, most importantly, not alone. A woman stood next to him, pretty and well-dressed, holding a little girl in her arms. Sangwoo’s hand rested on the small of her back as they talked, his head tilted slightly as he smiled at something she said. The woman laughed, leaning into him with a kind of familiarity that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Your appetite vanished instantly. Your fingers tightened around your fork, and you barely noticed your friend nudging you.

"Yo, you good?"

"Yeah," you mumbled, already standing. "Gotta go. Be right back."

You didn’t wait for a response. Your feet moved on instinct, carrying you toward the nearest building. The second you were inside, you made a beeline for the restroom, locking yourself in an empty stall before bracing your hands against the walls, trying to steady your breathing.

Sangwoo had a wife. And a kid. A whole family.

The realization sat heavy in your gut, a sharp, sickening weight pressing against your ribs. How had you not known? Shouldn’t someone have mentioned it? Shouldn’t he have mentioned it? And why the hell did it feel like you’d been punched in the stomach?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow the rising bile in your throat. The image of him—smiling, touching her, looking like a man who had never done a single wrong thing in his life—burned behind your eyelids.

You had been in his office just last night. Had sat at his desk, let him touch you, let him pull you in like you were something he wanted. And the whole time—

The whole time, he had this? A wife? A daughter?

You turned abruptly, punching the stall door hard enough that the impact sent a dull ache up your wrist. Then, without looking at yourself in the mirror, you forced yourself back outside.

You weren’t going to think about this now. You just needed to get through the rest of the day.

Your legs still felt unsteady as you walked back across the campus lawn, but then—

You slowed down. Two professors were chatting near one of the shaded benches. You wouldn’t have normally paid them any mind, but your name caught your attention.

“—been doing surprisingly well in my class,” one of them said. “I thought he’d barely scrape by, but it looks like he’s putting in real effort.”

“Not surprising,” the other replied. “Athletic scholarships come with pressure. He needs to keep his grades up if he wants to stay on the team.”

“True, but honestly, he’d have to bomb every class for that to even be a concern. You know how it is—sports scholarships are basically untouchable. No single professor can take those away, even if they wanted to.”

A beat of silence passed. Then the first one chuckled. “Good thing, too. Can you imagine the scandal?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

Wait.

Your scholarship was secure? No single professor could take it away?

Then… What the hell had Sangwoo been threatening you with?

Your stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasn’t nausea. It was anger. Cold, creeping, slow-burning rage.

He had lied to you. Manipulated you. Used you.

And you had fallen for it, like an absolute idiot.

You sat through class that day feeling like you were going to be sick. Every word out of Sangwoo’s mouth blurred together into meaningless noise, his voice grating against your ears. When he announced the usual after-hours “coaching session,” you barely registered it. The other students filed out, and you stayed seated, arms crossed tightly over your chest, muscles coiled with anger you hadn’t fully processed yet.

Sangwoo closed the door, the sound echoing through the empty room. He turned, gaze sharp as ever, and for the first time, you hated the way he looked at you—like he had already figured out exactly what you were about to say.

“Something wrong?”

You stood up so fast your chair scraped against the floor. “You’re married.”

Sangwoo’s expression didn’t even flicker. “And?”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And? And?! You’ve been—You lied to me. About everything.”

“Careful,” Sangwoo murmured, stepping closer. “You’re getting all worked up.”

“Yeah, because I just found out the guy I’ve been—” You cut yourself off, pressing your fingers to your temple as if that would stop the storm in your head. “Not only are you a cheating bastard, but you lied about my scholarship.”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another.

You scoffed, the sound bitter, disbelieving. “Yeah. I figured it out. You don’t have the power to take my scholarship away, do you?”

Sangwoo sighed, tilting his head like you were a particularly slow student who had finally caught up. “It got you to comply, didn’t it?”

Something inside you cracked open.

Your fists clenched at your sides. “You used me.”

He took another step forward, his presence suffocating, the air thick between you. “And yet, you’re still here.”

He was right there, close enough that you could see the way his lips curved, the glint in his eye that told you he still thought he had the upper hand. And maybe he did—because the moment he grabbed your face and kissed you, you let him.

It was hard, possessive, like he was staking his claim all over again. Your body reacted before your brain did, mouth opening under his, heat flaring up your spine. His hands dragged over your jaw, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse stutter.

But then—

No. No, not this time.

Your eyes snapped open. The haze shattered.

Without thinking, your hand darted toward the desk beside you, fingers curling around the sharp metal of a compass. You gripped it so tightly your knuckles ached.

Sangwoo didn’t even notice until it was too late.

The compass plunged into the side of his neck, and for the first time since you’d met him, he was the one caught off guard.

He staggered back, hand flying to his throat. Blood���so much blood—spilled between his fingers, staining his crisp white dress shirt. His mouth opened, a garbled, wet sound escaping as he stared at you in pure disbelief.

You exhaled, heart pounding as you looked down at him. “Guess I am failing this class.”

The room smelled like iron. Sangwoo collapsed to the floor, the blood pooling around him in a slow, creeping tide.

You stood there, breath shaky but eyes steady.

And then, finally, you turned and walked away.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[cloudyynebulas]

Can you do a yandere shadow milk x reader where he got out from the game it self just to get them and forcing them in the game with him after he saw they was about to delete the game from there phone?

❝ 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗡𝗢𝗪, 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘. ❞

yan! shadow milk cookie x reader.

reader is gender neutral.

episode 8 spoilers? sorta. mentions the new cookie, but that's about it.

cw : yandere themes, kidnapping, mind break, manipulation, obsessive behavior . . please read with caution!

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

You knew something was .. wrong.

Ever since the release of Spire of Shadows, where the highly anticipated, Shadow Milk Cookie, released as a playable character in his debut update, things began to change.

You were excited as anyone else. Who wouldn't be? After a year of waiting since his initial introduction as an NPC in Theater of Lies, you were apart of the thousands of people that hoped to see him return and become playable in the near future. When the trailer for the update was finally released, you were ecstatic.

Saving up your Crystals, Star Jellies and Skill Powders just for him! There was not a shred of doubt in your mind he'd most likely become apart of the current 'meta' in Kingdom Arena, so you knew the second you pulled him from the Nether Gacha, you could immediately put him at the max level!

Completing the missions as quickly as you could, just for a small chance of getting him from the gacha - your anticipation was immense, and you silently prayed to the screen each and every single time you managed to scourge up enough Light of Deceit for a singular ten pull.

When you finally pulled him from the gacha a little less than halfway to the pity pull, you beamed with joy - watching the animation play out. He was here!

Your excitement, once bubbling from within you, burst out like fireworks as you quickly maxed out his level and skill, giving him the best beascuit you had.

As you tapped on your phone, pressing buttons, adding him to your team, finding him in your kingdom, your joy beaming across your features - you failed to realize how this happiness was blinding you from sinister darkness just beyond the phone screen.

Days went by, and things were normal at first.

Then the glitches started. At first, they were small, insignificant errors like small visual bugs or a slight delay in gameplay. Small enough that you could simply shrug your shoulders and continue playing the game, but the more you ignored it - the worse it became.

After just a few days, you found yourself at a standstill. Staring at your phone screen, your eyebrows instinctively furrowed at yet another bug - though, this time, it was far more apparent. Like it was purposefully trying to grab your attention.

All the Cookies in your kingdom had.. been disabled, except for one.

Shadow Milk Cookie.

Your kingdom's design and layout was completely changed - all decors and designs being swapped with decor released alongside the update with Shadow Milk Cookie. Nothing but whites, blues and blacks adorned your kingdom.

Your Crystal and Coin count hadn't dropped. You didn't buy these items - so how could this have possibly happened?

Almost as if he knew you'd booted up the game, sensing your presence, Shadow Milk Cookie turned to face the screen from within your Kingdom.

His sprite winked at you, a gleeful grin forming on his features.

Odd.. you don't recall ever seeing that sprite anywhere.

Confused, and honestly somewhat unnerved, your thumb graces the Cookies button on the bottom right, opening up the tab. All of your Cookies were still there, but as you moved to tap on one of them, you were taken straight to Shadow Milk Cookie's profile instead.

What??

His animation played, bowing at you with a wink.

"Tis I, your humble jester! Here to brighten up your mood!"

You frowned, exiting his profile and, once again, moving to click another Cookie's profile. Though, just as before, you were taken straight back to Shadow Milk Cookie.

"..what the hell?" you muttered aloud.

At this point, it was clear. Your game was busted - or, possibly had some kind of virus. Although, a virus where your entire game is corrupted to just Shadow Milk Cookie was.. unheard of. Not a single person on the internet, from what you knew, had ever documented such an occurrence happening since the update's release.

You place the phone back down on your bed, sitting up. You walk towards your small laptop, flipping open the cover and logging into your account.

You fail to notice Shadow Milk Cookie's eyes seemingly following your movements as you move away from your device.

Wanting to believe that this was just some harmless bug, you immediately hop to your web browser, beginning to search up bugs or viruses relating to Cookie Run Kingdom, hoping you'd find someone out there who may've possibly had a similar experience to yours - and a possible solution.

With your gaze and mind locked focused on your hopeless searching, you failed to notice your phone slowly beginning to shake, being left idle on Shadow Milk Cookie's profile.

Deep inside, a beast rumbles - hands gripping the invisible bars of restriction that kept him away from your world. The confines of your small device that shackled him to this game.

Oh, to be trapped in a Silver Tree and a Video Game! How horribly hopeless is that? Though, with the knowledge that he had from being in a simple video game came with tremendous power that he could oh-so easily exploit.

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, watching you as you searched for answers of your.. "virus". Or rather, his fun, silly little prank!

He let out a quiet giggle - expression darkening. You were finally giving him the attention he'd been longing for! Yes, being trapped in a small device wasn't the most pleasant, but it had some.. quirks!

Forcing you to pull him in his Nether Gacha so many times, modifying his own attack power to higher numbers, always speaking over any other Cookie who tried to initiate dialogue to you..

Seeing your oh-so adorable face so confused and bewildered at his silly pranks and games was just the cherry on top! Shadow Milk Cookie had to admit, he was a liiiiiiittle annoyed that it took you this long to really give him the attention he craved, but, what did it matter? His patience has rewarded him!

..But it still wasn't.. enough.

His grin fell to a frown - an ominous gaze watching your every movement. No.. - no this wouldn't do. Not only did Shadow Milk Cookie desire for your attention, he needed to physically be there, next to you.

What had gotten into him? His mind, clouded with nothing but twisted lies and maelstroms of darkness grew a twinge of longing. But not a soft, kindhearted longing one would express - no, this was something so much deeper. So, so much worse.

Shadow Milk Cookie craved to have you here, with him.

It was all clear to him. You were his.

Truthfully, just having your attention on him was fine, and it usually always sufficed his desires, but now .. now it was different. He wanted more.

Your phone began to shake.

Your endless searching that led you to dead end after dead end came to a screeching halt at the sound of a familiar voice, coming straight from your phone, speaking your name.'

"Y/N..!"

You paled.

Slowly, your head turned towards your phone. That couldn't have been your family - that didn't sound like them, nor could it have come straight from your phone like that.

"Oooooover here, silly!" Shadow Milk Cookie's voice teased. "Don't leave me hanging here!"

You slowly got up from your chair, walking towards your bed and lifting up your phone, where Shadow Milk Cookie was, floating idly - though, he was much closer to the screen now, gaze fixated right back at you.

Your mouth was agape - words of confusion and distress on the tip of your tongue - and yet, you couldn't find any actual words of coherency to mutter aloud.

The jester laughed at your disbelief. "What's the matter, Y/N? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

His teasing mockery snapped you out of your daze. You blinked, and your thumbs quickly moved to swipe the game off your screen - with Shadow Milk Cookie's expression shifting into something more serious as the game disappeared from your screen.

Now back on your phone's home screen, you held a finger down on the Cookie Run Kingdom icon, waiting until the small popup appeared that would allow you to delete the app. With the game no longer on your screen, you took note of how even the game's icon had changed to Shadow Milk Cookie.

Screw trying to find a solution. Your horror had overtaken your senses, panic had spilled into your veins; this wasn't just some bug. This wasn't just some measly virus. This was something far worse. Something you couldn't possibly explain to another person without sounding like a fool.

The way he said your name - something that he couldn't possibly have knowledge of. And yet, he said it so clearly, so real, and when you finally approached him, he noticed you. Knew that you were there, looking back at him through a glass screen.

You pressed the delete app button - with your phone giving you a popup, asking you to confirm your choice. In a heartbeat, you selected confirm, and waited.

..and waited.

...

Why wasn't the app disappearing from your screen?

Your phone trembled. You couldn't tell if it was your own fear making you shake, or if it was something else. Something .. otherworldly.

Your fears were carved into reality as your phone practically thrashed itself out of your grip, tearing itself away from you and landing harshly onto your bed. A sinister, twisted laughter echoed throughout your bedroom, filling your ears and flying around the room.

You trembled, backing away as quickly as you could, your feet instinctively gliding you towards your bedroom door.

"Oh, Y/N!" his voice echoed. Shadow Milk Cookie's voice - his words clouding in your mind, like it was being sent to you telepathically. "Did you just try to delete me?"

You heard the Beast Cookie 'tsk in disappointment, clicking his tongue.

"So rude!" he scoffed. "And after everything I've done for you! It's almost like you're trying to get away from me!"

Your back collided with your bedroom door - hands reaching for the knob desperately, but your head was locked towards your phone that began to glow, it's screen taken over by a familiar shade of blue. You couldn't bring yourself to turn your back towards the haunted device, fearing that, even for a second that you might turn your back to him, it could mean the worst for you.

Hands finally grasping on the doorknob behind you, you twisted the metal knob trying to push your door open.

..The knob stopped halfway, unmoving.

You froze on the spot. Your door had locked itself, a bedroom door that never even had a lock, was now locked in place.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Shadow Milk Cookie laughed, his voice swarming in your head. "Where on Earthbread might you be trying to run off to? I'm about to make my big debut, here!"

A hand escaped from the phone screen. You held back a scream.

A blue hand extended out, and a familiar arm with jester attire began to emerge. It pushed itself out, revealing more of him.

His eyes locked onto you immediately - a large grin forming on his face as he had about halfway emerged from your phone screen.

The fear on your face was like a divine dessert - crafted and gifted perfectly sweet just for him.

Just like a wrapped gift basket that landed straight in front of his doorstep. You were right there - in his clutches. He had all the power he needed, and now, all he needed was you.

"Come along now!" Shadow Milk Cookie clapped his hands with glee, as blue puppeteer strings shot out from your phone, headed straight towards you. "We wouldn't want to keep our dear audience waiting, no?"

You yelped, quickly ducking your head to avoid the incoming web, and while your quick thinking may have saved you for just a few more seconds, it didn't matter. The strings quickly maneuvered themselves, wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides and keeping you bound in place.

A scream lay trapped in your throat. You wanted to scream - to cry, to yell, anything to grab someone's attention. And yet - a voice, one that was most definitely not yours, echoed whispers in the back of your mind, keeping you silent.

You were quickly pulled straight towards the Beast, whos hands reached out to you the second you were in arms length of him, grabbing onto you - staring down at you with a menacing grin of victory.

His arms wrapped around you - possessive, as if the strings weren't enough. He needed to envelop you in his own embrace.

With laughter filling the air, Shadow Milk Cookie descended back down into the phone, and you were swiftly dragged along down with him. Your cries finally escaped your lips - but it didn't matter now. Your yelling and your tears were drowned out in his world of lies - his perfect world, that would be built for the two of you.

⋆° .☾ ⋆ .ೃ ࿔* : ⋆

You've lost track of time at this point.

Strings were tied around you on every limb, tangled up in a web of blue that kept you still. Your body had adjusted to this new world you'd been forcefully taken to - now with the proportions of any other Cookie that existed.

Not that many Cookies seemed to exist anymore. It was just you, Shadow Milk Cookie, and his two minions - Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie.

Whatever was left of your kingdom - you didn't know. When you awoke in this world after being dragged down into it by the hands of the Beast, you found yourself inside of a familiar Spire.

Your memories are hazy - and yet, on the day you were brought here, you remember seeing Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie awaiting the two of you to arrive, as if they were already expecting you.

"Master Shadow Milk Cookie!!" Candy Apple Cookie cheered - her eyes sparkling at the sight of the Beast Cookie appearing. "You're finally back!"

"I see this was the one that's been on your mind as of late?" Black Sapphire Cookie chuckled, his eyes analyzing you up and down - observing your terrified state. "They look absolutely horrified!"

"Everything went according to plaaaaaan!" Shadow Milk Cookie grinned, his voice, mockingly singing his own praise. "A little more rough than I was hoping for.. but, what can you do? When improv calls, who am I to say no?"

The jester turned to you, his hand grabbing at your chin, forcing your gaze that had been previously facing towards the ground, now looking towards him.

"Don't look so.. blue, Y/N!" Shadow Milk Cookie smiled down at you - his eyes shadowed under an ominous light - his mismatched pupils glowing softly in the darkness. "Trust me, dear, you'll adjust veeery quickly."

Everything after that was a blur.

Your gaze was hazy, staring towards a checkered floor. Darkness surrounded the room you were held captive in - a room that was supposed to be an elegant bedroom crafted just for you.

Your attire matched perfectly with the theme of this twisted place - nothing but dark colors and swirls of lies topped with a few bowties here and there.

The puppeteer strings around your form tightened ever so slightly.

Your mind raced. The words of deceit that constantly filled the back of your mind suddenly became louder - just like they always did. Apart of this horrid routine you were forced into.

.. Y/N ...

Stop fighting my will, Y/N.

This is your home now - and you.. you are mine.

Why do you still insist on fighting me? Why do you still wish to leave?

The world out there has nothing for you. This is your world.

You shake your head, eyelids shutting tightly as you ignored these honeyed, twisted words that beckoned you, wanting to embrace you and swallow up any last bit of fight you had left.

The presence in the room shifts. You don't even have to open your eyes to know that he's here with you now.

A hand softly lifts your chin.

"You're such a fighter, even after alllll this time." Shadow Milk Cookie spoke, a light chuckle following his words. "It's adorable, really."

His voice becomes far more stern.

"But these little charades are starting to bore me."

His grip on your chin is suddenly at your face, tugging you forward, your eyelids snapping open in surprise.

You stare back up at Shadow Milk Cookie. You want to glare - to be angry, to yell, to scream -

But you don't want to do that.

So you don't.

He smiles. You do not.

"You're all mine, Y/N." the Beast reminds you. "You'll come to accept the truth sooner or later."

He laughs.

"It's only a matter of time."

[heliosunny]

if it's not too much to ask can I req our general jingyuan for your lucky egg prompt?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader

You weren’t expecting much when you used the Lucky Egg Dispenser—maybe a cute pet, maybe something rare if luck was on your side.

But when the machine whirred and spat out a large golden egg, heavier than the others, you knew something was different.

A small note was attached to it, written in elegant, unfamiliar script:

"Handle with the utmost care. Do not leave its side."

Was this a warning? A request? Either way, you didn't dare ignore it.

For three days, you kept the egg close—hugging it, sleeping with it nestled against your chest, carrying it everywhere. It was warm to the touch, almost alive, pulsing faintly like a slow heartbeat. Sometimes, you swore you heard a low, amused chuckle echo in your mind.

Then, on the third night, the egg cracked.

A golden glow flooded the room, and the warmth in your arms disappeared—replaced by something far larger.

Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a firm chest. A smooth, rich voice purred into your ear, dangerously close.

“Ah… You took such good care of me.”

Your heart pounded as you tilted your head up—

And met golden eyes, half-lidded with lazy amusement, yet darkened with something far more possessive.

He smiled, his grip on you unyielding.

“Now… allow me to return the favor.”

The warmth of the egg had always been comforting, but this—the sheer heat of the man now holding you—was something else entirely.

His grip on your waist remained firm, almost too secure, as if he had no intention of letting go. Slowly, he leaned back, allowing you just enough space to look up at him. Long silver-white hair, golden eyes glinting like molten metal.

A dream? No.

A nightmare? You weren’t sure yet.

“Jing Yuan” he introduced himself “That is my name. And you, little one, have taken care of me most diligently these past three days.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your lower back, a gesture so casual yet so intimate that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You held me close… never once leaving my side.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, pleased—deeply satisfied. “I must say, such devotion is quite rare.”

Your body had been exhausted from three days straight of holding the egg, and now, wrapped in unexpected warmth, your exhaustion finally took over.

The last thing you remembered was the steady rhythm of Jing Yuan’s heartbeat and the way his arms felt so secure around you.

Morning came too fast.

Your eyes blinked open. You shifted slightly—only to realize you couldn’t move.

Jing Yuan was still there.

And he was clinging to you.

One arm curled around your waist, the other resting under your head, effectively caging you in. His breath was slow and steady, and even in sleep, he refused to let you go.

Then it hit you. Your relatives were visiting today.

Your heart lurched as you turned to the clock—late.

Panic surged through you. You tried to slip away, but the instant you moved, Jing Yuan tightened his hold.

“Mmm” he murmured groggily, burying his face into your neck. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” You struggled again, but he was far too strong.

Golden eyes cracked open, lazily watching you as if completely unbothered by your distress.

“Why rush?” he mused. “They can wait.”

You nearly screamed. “No, they can’t!”

Summoning all your strength, you dragged him to the door—his arms still wrapped around you. It was the only way you could even move properly.

Then you threw the door open.

And there they were.

Your relatives, standing outside, their expressions frozen. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open.

They took in the scene—you, struggling against the embrace of an incredibly attractive white-haired man, his arms looped around your waist, his robe slightly loose, his expression filled with sleep-dazed affection.

A long, awkward silence.

Your cousin coughed. “Uh… should we come back later?”

Jing Yuan hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That would be ideal.”

You wanted to die on the spot.

Your uncle, Garreth, a renowned master of weapons, took one long look at Jing Yuan’s build—his broad shoulders, his refined yet powerful stance and nodded in approval.

“You. You’re built well.”

You groaned. “Uncle, don’t—”

But it was too late. Your uncle had already summoned a sigil in midair, golden energy swirling as it took form.

A guandao materialized.

Its long, ornate pole gleamed with intricate gold etchings, and the curved blade reflected the sunlight like liquid fire.

Jing Yuan finally released his iron grip on you, just slightly, as he reached for the weapon.

The moment his fingers closed around the guandao, the air shifted. A deep pulse of energy resonated through the ground. The weapon hummed in his grasp, almost as if recognizing him.

Jing Yuan spun it once, the heavy weapon moving effortlessly in his hands, before letting out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“Oh? This suits me quite well.”

Your uncle grinned. “Perfect. Let’s test it out in a dungeon.”

“Wait, what?”

Jing Yuan turned to you, golden eyes gleaming with undeniable amusement, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” His voice was smooth, coaxing.

There was no real room for refusal.

The portal shimmered as you and your relatives stepped into the testing dungeon—a vast expanse of ruins lit by glowing glyphs, the air thick with the presence of lurking monsters.

Jing Yuan walked beside you, his weapon resting lazily over his shoulder, his golden eyes scanning the area with a casual sharpness. Your uncle, already eager to see how the weapon performed, led the way, while your cousin, Lina, trailed behind—already looking way too reckless for your liking.

“Lina, dodge!” you shouted as a spectral beast lunged at her.

But instead of dodging, she charged headfirst, barely blocking the attack in time.

Your sigh was deep and exhausted.

You cast a quick buff on her, increasing her defense, and then immediately followed it up with a healing skill when she took a direct hit from another enemy.

Jing Yuan chuckled beside you, watching the scene unfold. “Is she always like this?”

You groaned. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Lina, undeterred by her near-death experience, grinned. “Come on! We’ve got a strong guy with us now. What’s there to worry about?”

Jing Yuan hummed in amusement. “Confidence is good. But recklessness?” He flicked his wrist, effortlessly slicing through a beast that had tried to sneak up on you. “That’s a bit more… troublesome.”

Lina stuck her tongue out but didn’t argue.

Your uncle, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in watching Jing Yuan fight.

Jing Yuan moved like a storm, sweeping through enemies with fluid, devastating arcs. He never seemed rushed, never seemed flustered—just calm, methodical, and effortlessly powerful.

Every swing of his weapon sent sparks flying, and each finishing move left behind the faint echo of a roaring lion.

Your uncle grinned like a madman. “Now that’s technique. Clean. Precise. Efficient.”

Lina, inspired, tried to copy his movements—only to trip and nearly eat dirt.

You sighed again, casting yet another heal. “Lina, please.”

Jing Yuan turned to you, tilting his head. “You’re quite good at supporting others.”

You shrugged. “Someone has to keep these people alive.”

His lips curled into a slow smile, his golden eyes glinting. “Indeed. But tell me—who takes care of you?”

You ignored the question and focused on healing Lina (again).

Jing Yuan simply watched, amused before gracefully slicing through another wave of enemies, his attacks suspiciously always keeping you within reach.

With the dungeon cleared, the atmosphere lightened as your group returned home.

Garreth was beyond satisfied with Jing Yuan’s performance. He had spent the entire walk back singing praises about the way the guandao handled in his hands, already talking about designing another custom weapon for him.

As soon as you stepped inside, Garreth clapped a hand on Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“A warrior like you deserves a proper meal and a drink—or ten!”

You tried to object since it had been a long day, you just wanted to sleep, but between your uncle’s insistence and Jing Yuan’s easygoing agreement, there was no getting out of it.

One hour later.

The table was filled with empty bottles.

Your uncle? Completely drunk. His booming laughter had slowly turned into slurred mumbling, and eventually, he collapsed onto the table.

Lina sighed, shaking her head. “Every time.” She cracked her knuckles, then grabbed him by the arm, hoisting him up. “I’ll put him to bed before he starts snoring so loud the neighbors complain.”

That left you and Jing Yuan.

The air was quiet now, aside from the distant sounds of the night. Jing Yuan leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes watching you a little too intently.

“You prioritize others too much.”

You were caught off guard. “What?”

He swirled the drink in his glass lazily. “You heal your cousin, you support your uncle’s projects, you take care of everyone else—but when do you let someone take care of you?”

You frowned. “It’s not a big deal.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You say that, but I watched you today. You don’t hesitate to step in when someone else is in danger, but when it comes to yourself? You ignore it. You dismiss it.”

You didn’t respond, mostly because you didn’t know what to say.

He set his glass down, then leaned forward slightly, closer to you.

“If you won’t take care of yourself…” his voice was softer now, almost coaxing, “…then I will.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You’ve only been here for a day.”

Jing Yuan smiled, slow and amused. “Three, actually. You did hold onto me for quite a while.”

Your face heated, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, you know.”

The words lingered between you, heavy in their meaning.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you moved around, preparing a simple breakfast. The morning was peaceful—until you overheard the conversation between your uncle and Jing Yuan.

They were sitting at the small table by the window, playing chess.

Your uncle had a focused expression, tapping his fingers against the table as he studied the board. Jing Yuan, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, golden eyes lazily watching his opponent’s movements.

“You’re good at this” Garreth finally muttered, moving a piece.

Jing Yuan smiled. “I try.”

There was a moment of silence as the game continued. Then, your uncle leaned back slightly, shooting you a glance before turning back to Jing Yuan.

“You know, I’d love to have you as their partner.”

You almost spilled your coffee.

Jing Yuan’s interest visibly piqued. His eyes flickered to you, then back to your uncle. “Oh? That’s quite the endorsement.”

Your uncle nodded. “Well, they need someone who can keep up with them. Someone strong, capable… dependable. I’d say you fit the bill.”

Jing Yuan made his next move on the chessboard, but his focus was clearly elsewhere now. “I see. And do they already have someone?”

Garreth waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, they already got themself—”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening slightly as if he just realized what he was saying.

Jing Yuan’s expression remained calm, but there was a subtle shift in his aura, his posture more attentive.

Your uncle coughed, attempting to correct himself. “I mean—uh—”

You sighed, setting your cup down. “They’re my ex, Uncle. Ex. Past tense.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, interest deepening. “Oh?”

Your uncle scratched the back of his head. “Ah… my bad.”

Jing Yuan, however, seemed entirely unbothered. If anything—he looked pleased.

He moved his chess piece, “Check.”

Your uncle squinted at the chessboard, muttering curses under his breath as he realized his mistake. Meanwhile, you sat at the table, sipping your coffee, pretending that Jing Yuan wasn’t still watching you.

That small “Oh?” he had uttered earlier still lingered in your mind.

Your uncle, blissfully unaware of the subtle tension in the air, finally made his move—only for Jing Yuan to immediately checkmate him.

Garreth let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, I get it. You’re good. No need to rub it in.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “It was an interesting match.”

His words were polite, but his focus remained on you.

“You didn’t mention an ex before” he mused, resting his chin against his hand.

“Because it’s not important.”

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly, a slow, thoughtful smile forming on his lips. “Not important to you, perhaps. But I find it rather interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He leaned forward just slightly. “Because it means you’re single.”

You almost choked on your coffee.

Your uncle laughed, completely missing the implications. “Hah! Well, that just means the spot’s open, doesn’t it?”

Jing Yuan didn’t even need to say anything—the way his golden eyes gleamed with amusement said enough.

You set your coffee down harder than necessary. “It’s not a competition, Uncle.”

Garreth shrugged. “Could be. If the right person comes along.”

Jing Yuan hummed, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “That depends on how persistent the contender is, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, then sighed, standing up from the table. “I’m going to finish breakfast.”

As you walked back toward the kitchen, you heard your uncle chuckle.

“I like this guy.”

And then, from Jing Yuan, came a smooth, almost teasing response “I think I do, too.”

After spending the whole day in the dungeon and dealing with your uncle and cousin’s antics, you were completely drained. You bid farewell to your relatives, watching as your uncle patted Jing Yuan’s shoulder one last time before they finally left.

As soon as the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, rolling your shoulders. Why were you getting exhausted so quickly these days?

Shaking off the thought, you plopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV, flipping to the news. You barely heard it. Your body felt unnaturally heavy, exhaustion creeping into your bones. Within moments, your eyes fluttered shut, and you drifted into deep sleep.

Jing Yuan, who had remained inside, quietly approached the sofa.

His golden eyes flickered toward the TV screen, just as he was about to turn it off, the broadcast displayed maps of dungeon activity, strange energy fluctuations… and then a list of affected individuals.

Your name was on it.

Jing Yuan’s relaxed demeanor didn’t change, but his fingers tightened slightly on the remote.

How curious.

His gaze shifted back to you—asleep, unaware, vulnerable.

For a brief moment, he simply watched you, his mind piecing things together. Then, he finally switched off the TV, plunging the room into silence.

He stepped closer, crouching beside you.

“So fragile…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Yet, something unusual lingers around you.”

The room was silent except for the faint sound of your breathing.

Jing Yuan remained seated beside the sofa, studying you with the same careful patience he used when strategizing on the battlefield. He had spent his life mastering the art of waiting, of letting his prey lower their guard before making his move.

You, however, had already lowered yours without realizing it.

You trusted too easily. Even after everything—you still let him stay, still let him close. How fortunate for him. He had noticed it before—the exhaustion, the unusual way you drained energy.

And now, the news confirmed it.

Something was interfering with you.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly. Could it be an external force? Or perhaps—something inside you?

His fingers barely grazed your palm before you shifted in your sleep, your body instinctively pulling away. Even unconscious, you resisted—just a little.

How endearing.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he stood. Carefully, he slid one arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and lifted you effortlessly.

You barely stirred as he carried you to your room.

When morning arrived, you awoke feeling oddly well-rested.

For the first time in days, your limbs didn’t feel like lead. You blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

Then, you noticed it.

A chair had been pulled close to your bed. And there, sitting comfortably as if he belonged, was Jing Yuan—waiting.

His golden eyes met yours immediately, as if he had known the exact moment you would wake up.

“Morning” he greeted lazily, a teasing edge in his tone. “You slept quite well, didn’t you?”

You stared at him, still processing. "…Why are you here?"

Jing Yuan stretched, completely unbothered. “Watching over you, of course.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Isn’t it?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I feel fine now. So you can stop acting like my personal bodyguard.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer right away. He simply smiled.

Then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“If you say so” he mused.

----

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV. You lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, completely unaware of the faint traces of blood and burnt fabric on Jing Yuan’s coat as he silently stepped inside. His golden eyes flickered over you, scanning your peaceful expression before shifting to the TV screen.

The news had moved on to another topic—political disputes, interstellar trade negotiations—nothing of interest to him. But earlier? He had seen it.

The dungeon anomaly.

He had felt it through the bond you shared.

Your exhaustion, the unnatural way your energy drained—he had known it wasn’t normal. So while you rested, unaware, he had gone to the source.

And he had handled it.

His fingers twitched slightly, recalling the creatures he had encountered—their movements erratic, their existence unnatural. Something had been leeching off you, siphoning your strength without you even realizing it.

Not anymore.

Jing Yuan exhaled softly, shaking off the remnants of the battle before stepping closer. He crouched beside the sofa, watching you.

His hand brushed against your wrist, his thumb grazing the pulse point beneath your skin. It was steadier now.

For a moment, he simply observed. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he murmured, “You never even noticed, did you?”

His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything touch you again.”

Just as Jing Yuan reached to turn off the TV, a soft mechanical chime echoed through the room.

[BOND STATUS: ACTIVE]

His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to the notice board, which had flickered on with a soft blue glow. The system—an extension of the egg bond—displayed a list of missions, each one tied to your well-being.

[Current Bond Status: 72%]

[Mission List Updated]

• Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

• Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

• Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

• Reinforce emotional reliance (+10%)

Jing Yuan’s gaze lingered on that last one.

Reinforce emotional reliance.

The system was clear. Completing these tasks wouldn’t just strengthen the bond—it would tilt it further in his favor.

It would make you depend on him more.

He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “How convenient.”

He had already eliminated the threat in the dungeon. Now, all that was left was to secure his place by your side.

He tapped the notice board lightly with a gloved finger. “I suppose I’ll be keeping busy.”

Jing Yuan wasted no time.

The missions were simple, really. If he was careful, strategic—he could complete them without you ever suspecting a thing. And the results were already beginning to show.

—Ensure the bonded individual eats a full meal (+2%)

At first, you had been too exhausted to care about proper meals. You would grab whatever was quick, or forget to eat entirely. Jing Yuan, of course, noticed.

So he started cooking for you.

It worked. The food was good—far better than you had expected—and soon, you stopped questioning it. You ate every bite. And just like that, another point was secured.

—Improve the bonded individual’s physical condition (+3%)

You rarely exercised, and your body had been sluggish ever since the exhaustion set in. Jing Yuan fixed that too. It started subtly. A casual walk together after meals. A stretch before you sat too long at your desk. And eventually—sparring.

“It’s just practice” he said, handing you a wooden staff, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “I’ll go easy on you.”

You had scoffed at first, but the training worked. Slowly, you felt better, stronger. You even started to rely on his guidance.

Jing Yuan thrived on that.

—Eliminate external stressors (+5%)

This was where things became more delicate.

Your days had been filled with stress—work, responsibilities, people. Jing Yuan made sure those were no longer a problem.

Suddenly, the overbearing requests, the bothersome messages—they all seemed to disappear.

And you, unknowingly, started leaning closer to him.

It was subtle at first. The way your body gravitated toward his warmth when you were tired. How your fingers lingered just a second longer when handing him something.

But the true confirmation came one night.

You were exhausted, drained. Without thinking, you collapsed onto the couch, only to feel a firm warmth beside you.

Jing Yuan didn’t move as you curled against his side.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Tired again?”

You mumbled something incoherent, already halfway asleep.

Jing Yuan took his chance. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing the lightest kiss against the top of your head.

You didn’t pull away.

And that was everything.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

----

The day was peaceful. You sat beside Jing Yuan on the couch, absentmindedly sipping your drink as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

Everything was calm—until the notification popped up.

[BOND STATUS: 86%] [New Mission Available]

The glowing system board flickered in front of him, its message clear as day. Jing Yuan tensed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

He turned to you, searching your face for any sign of recognition, but you were completely unbothered.

“…Did you see that?” he asked carefully.

You blinked at him. “See what?”

You couldn’t see it.

The realization sent a slow, satisfied warmth through his chest. This system, this bond—it was for him alone.

“Nothing. Must’ve been my imagination.”

You shrugged and went back to what you were doing, while Jing Yuan turned his attention back to the screen.

The mission list was still there.

[New Mission: Deepen the bond through physical intimacy (+10%)]

How interesting.

Jing Yuan had always been patient. He knew when to pull, when to wait, when to let you come to him on your own.

But now?

The system had given him permission.

The bond was already tightening, wrapping around you like an invisible thread—unseen, unfelt, yet inescapable. You clung to him more and more, sought his presence without even realizing it.

And tonight, he would make sure you would never want to be anywhere else.

The night was quiet, the only sound in your home being the faint hum of the air as you shifted in your seat. You had been tired again. Jing Yuan had noticed it immediately—how your body seemed heavier, your posture looser, your defenses down. You didn't question it when he pulled you toward him, settling you onto his lap with practiced ease.

You never questioned him anymore.

“Relax” he murmured, his voice smooth as he pressed his lips to your temple. His hands traced slow, lazy circles against your back, warm through the fabric of your clothes. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much again.”

You sighed, melting against him.

It was so easy. So easy to let him hold you, to sink into his warmth, to let him touch you as if he had always belonged to you.

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your hips, tracing the shape of you with unhurried confidence. He felt the way your breath hitched, the way your hands gripped his shoulders just a little tighter.

His voice was laced with amusement as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the side of your neck. “You’ve been clinging to me so much lately… have you noticed?”

You stiffened slightly.

You hadn’t.

Jing Yuan chuckled at your silence, one hand tilting your chin up to meet his golden gaze.

“Don’t worry.” His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm, teasing. “I don’t mind.”

And then he kissed you.

He swallowed the tiny gasp you made, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, closer, as if he could merge you into himself.

“… Just let me take care of you”

You didn’t resist.

You never did.

And that?

That was exactly how he wanted you.

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer needs your help examining a crucial piece of evidence...but the moment he sees you, his mind goes blah blah blah...proper name, place name, backstory stuff...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist! female reader, same reader as in pick your poison but you don’t need to read that first—there aren’t any major references, suggestion that the reader engages in casual hook ups, reader has a belly button piercing and a described outfit, spencer's pov only

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling it was slowly gathering dust in my inbox 😭 sorry!

"I think the threshold of my lab isn't exactly the best place for camping."

A woman's silhouette cast a shadow over Spencer as she appeared right above him in the dimly lit hallway.

Spencer sighed in frustration and hauled himself to his feet. As he brushed off his pants, he kept his eyes off the woman in front of him.

"Well, I didn't think you'd make me wait fifty-eight—"

"Oh, just say the hour. Is rounding numbers really that hard for you?" she scoffed, her voice carrying a trace of genuine curiosity. She swiped her access card, unlocking the door to the lab. With her back turned to him, he took in her appearance—an oversized fur coat draped over her shoulders, a designer handbag hanging from one arm. His gaze drifted downward, and to his surprise, he noticed…pajama pants and slippers?

"You should be grateful I even bothered to show up at this hour," she added.

"This is really important," Spencer replied as she led him inside.

She moved through the space with effortless familiarity, heading straight for the light switch. Well, this was her domain, after all—the place where she spent most of her days.

"I don't care," she replied. "Unless you've found proof that Marilyn Monroe was the Zodiac Killer all along—then, well, I care a little. Honestly, you have no idea how much you owe me for showing up..."

He rolled his eyes.

"Should I be thanking you on my knees, or...?"

"I could have been busy. I could have been out with the girls at a club. I could have been having the night of my life..."

"I get it, you made a huge sacrifice answering my request, but can you now—"

"I could have been in bed already. My own. Or not my own," she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Though in that case, I wouldn’t have picked up."

Spencer simply sighed. By now, he was used to it—the way most of their conversations followed the same pattern. How she always set the pace, steering the direction as she pleased. How she sometimes deliberately ignored his words and didn’t care if it made her seem rude. How, in general, she didn’t care what impression she left on others.

He had witnessed it countless times, found it irritating every single time, and yet—every single time—he kept the conversation going. Funny.

She switched on only one of the lights, leaving the room bathed in a soft twilight. Her handbag landed on the long counter beside one of the microscopes, and she tossed her fur coat next to it, completely unconcerned about knocking something over.

Sometimes, he watched her with quiet fascination—the effortless confidence in her movements—and wondered if she had ever, even once, smacked her hip against a doorframe. Or stubbed her toe on a cabinet. Those small, mundane humiliations and everyday mishaps simply didn’t seem to fit with who she was.

He tightened his grip on the plastic bag he had brought with him, the one containing something that needed to be examined. The team didn’t know about it yet.

The thought, the theory, had quite literally yanked him out of sleep. He couldn’t function without checking this lead immediately. But he knew that if he went through the lab, he’d have to wait until morning for the results…so he decided to ask for a friendly favor.

Okay friendly was a big word.

They had known each other for a few months, worked together on several cases, gone on a date, slept together.

Not necessarily in that order.

He was just about to open his mouth, say something, hand her the bag… when, for the first time, he actually saw her in better light than the dim glow—or rather, lack of it—in the hallway. Against his own will, his gaze started its journey over her.

From the slippers on her feet, up the loose pajama pants that ended just below the piercing in her navel, the black camisole with thin straps, to her face—completely free of makeup.

Until now, he had only seen her in two versions. One was her usual, elegant work attire. The other was her evening look—form-fitting, designed to turn heads and keep them there.

On second thought, there was also a third version. Without clothes.

But he had never seen her like this. Casual, comfortable, dressed for nothing more than wandering the walls of her own apartment.

She lifted her arms to tie her hair into a ponytail, and her shirt rode up slightly.

“If my piercing fascinates you that much, I can give you my piercer’s number,” she offered dryly, a fleeting smirk on her lips as she caught his stare. He immediately snapped his gaze back to her face, cursing internally when he realized he probably looked like he had been caught staring. Which, of course, he hadn’t been. “Excellent work. Full professionalism. Experienced hands…”

"I need you to check this stain," he interrupted, raising the bag.

They had been talking too much, and he really needed to know if his suspicions were correct.

She stepped closer to take the bag from him.

“Is this a crucial piece of evidence, or can I touch it?”

“You can touch it…”

She stopped just a step away, shifting her weight onto one hip and tilting her head to get a better look.Spencer instinctively straightened, feeling a strange tension along his spine.Earlier, he had been looking at what she was wearing. Now, what caught his attention was how she looked.

There’s a certain kind of beauty you never quite get used to, no matter how often you see it. The kind that, every time, knocks the air from your lungs for just a second—that fleeting disbelief that someone like this actually walks the earth.

She had it. She radiated it.

And she was just a step away.

She took the garment out of the bag. It was a red turtleneck sweater. She lifted it higher toward the light, furrowing her brow as she examined the stain.

Spencer’s gaze fell on her beautiful face, her eyes shimmering slightly, her lower lip slightly pursed in thought.

Suddenly, she scoffed, snapping him back to reality.

"Mystery solved, and I didn’t even need a microscope," she said, shoving the sweater back into his hands. As he took it, his fingers brushed against hers, catching him slightly off guard. "It’s foundation. I’d recognize that stain anywhere. So, hooray, happy to help, no need to put me in the case report, have a good night, and see you—"

He grabbed her wrist before she could step away, stopping her in place.

"This isn’t a joke," he said, his voice dropping, tinged with sudden irritation.She raised an eyebrow at both his tone and the way he—unintentionally—closed the distance between them. As usual, she looked him straight in the eyes, and as usual, it was hard not to be drawn in. But he tried, because this case was really consuming his thoughts. "Listen, I called you because I need someone to actually test it. Not just glance at it. It'll only take a moment, and then you can go back to crawling into bed with whoever you want. Can you do that?"

The second-to-last sentence made her expression shift slightly.

For a moment, they stood there, unwavering, eyes locked without so much as a blink. Then, the corners of her lips tugged upward—just barely. But it felt more like a forced gesture, an attempt to maintain her carefully practiced expression, rather than a sign of genuine amusement.

"Alright," she replied softly. Not to be mistaken for shyly. There was nothing shy about her, a fact he was reminded of constantly.

"I’ll test it, since it matters so much to you. And then I’m going back to bed." A slow blink before she yanked the sweater from his hands. "With whoever I want."

Why did swallowing suddenly stop being an automatic reflex and turn into something he had to consciously work through?

"That’s great," he said shortly, dryly. He could feel himself slipping into the trap again, letting her toy with him. "Have fun."

"I will."

With that simple assurance, she walked away, and the very particles of air around him seemed to loosen, finally allowing him to breathe again. He turned after her instinctively, the way a swivel chair spins when someone sets it in motion.

She crossed the lab table and leaned over an empty workstation—empty, like all the others. The entire width of the counter separated them now, along with the return of cool detachment to her face. Slowly, Spencer rested his hands on the smooth surface, watching as she got to work. Watching as her hair bounced slightly with the shift in position. Watching as her jaw tensed in concentration. Watching as she leaned over the workstation slightly.

"So," she began flatly, not pausing her work or even looking at him.

Spencer gave his head a small shake, realizing that this time, he really had been staring. At least she hadn’t seen it.

"What exactly am I testing?"

His gaze drifted to her again.

"Something related to the case."

"Wow, I never would've guessed."

He was too distracted to mentally slap himself for how pathetic he was. 

"Uh, it’s not exactly groundbreaking," he began.

He could focus—he just had to try hard enough. He just had to clear the lingering trace of her scent from when she’d stood so close. Had to shake off the echo of her words. With whoever I want, she had said. The more he thought about it, the more accurate it seemed. He firmly believed she could have whoever she wanted. With that confidence. With that face. With that body…

"That’s why I’m checking it after hours. Just, you know…backstory stuff…"

A sound escaped her lips—somewhere between a scoff of disbelief and a startled laugh. She looked at him—no, she pinned him with her gaze.

"Backstory stuff?" she repeated, her lips curling into a smile. Not even a mocking one anymore. She was genuinely amused. "Did you, Doctor Spencer Reid, when asked what the evidence pertains to, actually respond with backstory stuff…?"

“No, I…I mean…”

“Oh God, it’s a good thing they don’t put you in front of cameras. Imagine you, at a press conference. Just casually dropping backstory stuff on national television…”

“I can handle myself in front of cameras,” he clarified, feeling an odd warmth creep up the back of his neck. “But there aren’t any here. And besides, I didn’t realize you wanted me to recite the entire case file from memory…”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said with another amused snort. “Backstory stuff is actually a surprisingly accurate term. You know, very professional.”

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation, though what he really felt was more akin to embarrassment.

“Speaking of professionalism, maybe you could get back to work?” he suggested.

“I don’t have to,” she replied, flashing him a sweet smile. “I already checked everything. And I was wrong. It’s not foundation—it’s nitroglycerin.”

Spencer’s jaw practically hit the floor.

For the first time since stepping into the lab, his mind was running at full capacity.

"Nitroglycerin? Are you sure?"

"Well, I don’t get these things wrong," she said, almost offended.

"Nitroglycerin," he repeated in a whisper.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Suddenly, everything made sense.

She leaned her elbows on the table, watching him with interest.

He wanted to kiss her.

No—he did not—

"Thank you," he blurted out, her words becoming background noise as his thoughts raced. "Thank you for coming. This…this really helps. I have to tell the team—"

He turned toward the door, dazed by the realization.

Something stopped him.

"Spencer," she called gently.

She didn’t seem angry that he was leaving so abruptly. If anything, there was a certain soft glint in her eyes, a quiet fascination with his sudden revelation. Standing in the doorway, he looked at her one last time, feeling himself freeze in place again. He said nothing, sensing that she wanted to say something instead.

She tilted her head slightly.

"You owe me a favor," she said.

There was something about the way she said it—something that sent a slow, deliberate shiver down his spine. Not even a shiver. More like a careful march of cold fingertips down his vertebrae.

So, naturally, he did what any grown man with an IQ of 187 would do.

He parted his lips slightly and nodded.

[lucysarah-c]

Happy Valentine's Day!! What do you think Levi would be like with his partner on Valentine's Day?

Happy Valentine's Day! (Totally ignoring the fact that in my country, Valentine's isn't really a thing—lmao.)

Mh… I guess it depends on how important it is to his partner? Like, if they have an unspoken agreement not to do anything over the top, he'd make sure to get the chocolates they like or maybe a flower or two—and that’s about it. I have this feeling that Levi isn’t really into "special days" like Valentine's. He’s more about small, consistent gestures every day rather than grand romantic displays.

Now, if his partner is someone who really, really likes these kinds of occasions, he might step out of his comfort zone and plan something. Not because he genuinely thinks Valentine's is important, but because she thinks it's important—and she is important to him. So, in conclusion, it becomes an important day. Nothing public, though—that’s for sure. Maybe he'd book a restaurant in advance, something low-key, and get her some chocolates or flowers.

Tho… I can’t shake the feeling that when Levi is trying to "win the heart of the person he loves," he goes straight for the classics—only to completely miss the mark lmao.

Like: "Valentine’s… we’ve been on two dates… I want her, I like her. So… flowers. Women like flowers for Valentine's, right?"

He aims for the gentleman, timeless romance approach but somehow takes a sharp left turn into a logic that only makes sense to him.—

"…You’re giving me a plant?" She watches as Levi carefully arranges a potted plant on her balcony.

"Yes. The shop owner said in a year or two, you’ll get flowers in winter." He nods, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. "Why waste money on overpriced flowers wrapped in plastic that die in a week when you can have real ones that last for months?"

'Yeah… I just have to wait two years?' She stares at the pot, blinking. "That’s… really thoughtful. Just that—"

He cuts her off. "I thought about it. I hate watering plants and dirt getting everywhere. I got you a plate for it. No stained floors."

"No… my cat is going to eat it. That’s why I don’t have plants."

Tho haha great story to tale about how they started dating lol

[blastiebabe]

just paint my nails, damn it

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

It was a tiring day, you are currently in your dorm room lying in your bed, scrolling though your phone. The training with Aizawa and All Might earlier have drained almost all of your energy. Just when you are about to close the app where you were bingeing, your phone vibrates. A message from Katsuki.

Katsuki:

my room. now.

You roll your eyes by his sudden authoritative text that is actually isn't new to you. It isn't also the first time that Katsuki asked you to be in his room, over the course of the two of you training together, to studying together, eating together, really, being inside in his room together isn't that surprising.

You and Katsuki hangs out almost everyday, maybe as friends (?) But in your perspective, Katsuki is becoming more than that for you. And you don't know what to feel about it. Hell for sure that explosive dude doesn't even see you as a woman. Therefore, these days, you have been trying to avoid being alone with him. Not that he will let you do so like what he is doing now.

After rolling your eyes, you type a response.

You:

nah, too tired.

Katsuki:

too tired my ass. come. now.

You:

Kats, I'm tired

Katsuki:

and that's why you should come here

For the nth time, you rolled your eyes reading that message. You see, this kind of things is what makes you think there can be a possibility between you both. You left him on read and was about to turn your phone off and just ignore him when it vibrates again, receiving another message.

Katsuki:

please?

You groan as you reach for your hair in frustration. Damn it why is it so hard to say no to that damn explosive man? You stood up, bringing only your phone and going straight into his room wearing pjs, you didn't even knock. You opened the door abruptly.

"What the fuck do you want?" You ask with both your hands crossed to each other. You find Katsuki sitting at the floor of his room beside his bed, in front of him is a coffee table and on top of it are nail polish and other shit that one uses when painting and cleaning nails.

"Well hello to you too, ma'am." Katsuki says without even batting an eye on you, focusing on looking at the colors of nail polish in front of him.

You come inside his room, closing the door, then sits in front of him. "Katsuki, what is it? I just wanna rest for fuck's sa-"

"What color should I paint my nails with?" Katsuki asks, completely disregarding your crash out. He holds up in your face 2 small bottles of nail polish, one is black, the other one is orange.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You ask, completely irritated at how he is treating you when he was the one who asked you to come here when you told him you wanted to rest. "Katsuki, I don't have time to do this, I just want to rest. I'm going back." You say before you try to stand up.

"You're not goin' anywhere." Katsuki says firmly, holding your wrist when you were about to stand up. He sits you back down.

"What are you-"

"Calm the fuck down. Give me a minute." Katsuki says before standing up ang going to his study table. He grabs a food tray, with a bowl of katsudon and a tea and water beside it. Katsuki brings it in front of you.

You look at him, trying to put your questions into words but none came out. When he realized you were struggling, he spoke. "The nerd told me you haven't eaten dinner yet. What are you, a dumbass?"

"What-"

"Eat, the only way to bring your energy back is to eat. So, calm the fuck down and eat." Katsuki says before focusing on the nail polish before him again.

You look at Katsuki and the food, then back to Katsuki, then the food, then Katsuki. "Did you make these?"

"What do you think?" He says without looking up at you.

"Aww, Kats that so sweet-"

"That ain't free, dumbass. You're coloring my nails." He says looking at you. You see the corner of his ears turning pink. Shit, that made your cheeks red too.

You proceed on eating dinner, while Katsuki tries to entertain himself by doing random things while waiting for you. After your last bite, Katsuki still haven't decided what color he should paint his nails. You thank him for the food he has prepared, and you bring the tray back on his study table.

You get back on your position drinking water and looks at Katsuki busy on trying to figure out his nail polish. You stare at him for a brief moment, then smiles. Suddenly all the tiredness washed out of you.

You grab the black nail polish, reached for his left hand and put it above the table while holding four of his fingers, studying it closely, thinking of a technique to color it perfectly. For sure Katsuki would not want anything less than perfect.

"The hell are you doing?" Katsuki asks, looking at you staring at his fingers. You see the subtle redness in his cheeks.

You smile. "Paying you back." You speak. "Black suits you the best, Kats. I have always loved seeing black on you."

Katsuki is trying his damned best to fight all his face muscles and not to smile by that sudden compliment from you. You laugh at this reaction from him. Seeing Katsuki flustered is an opportunity only presented for you, so not making the most out of it is a sin.

"Are you just asking me to color your nails so you can hold my hand?" You tease him.

"What the-?" Katsuki was startled by what you just said. Looking at your teasing expression, he groans. His cheeks redder than earlier. "Just paint my nails, damn it."

You laugh.

Oh, bloody hell, falling for this guy might not be as bad as you think.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ more of katsuki, here! ♡

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Make Me Wanna Make You Fall in Love

Request: NEED A ONE SMUTTY ONE SHOT ABOUT CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF!!!! bonus points if she’s a bimbo chic kinda girl 😫

Roy Kent x YoungGF!Reader

2.4k words (I warned y'all)

Warnings: Roy's much younger girlfriend (mentioned as twenty), the Greyhounds looking at the reader disrespectfully, mentions of a very skimpy outfit (and its lack of underwear), unprotected sex, two uses of daddy, semi-public sex, Roy's young GF is a horny menace

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! A little different from my usual, but, not gonna lie, had a lot of fun with it (and would definitely revisit these two again)! Hope you like it too ✨

“Oh hell, would you look at that one?”

“Could you imagine-?”

“Not leaving much to the imagination, is she?”

Roy cocked an eyebrow at his players, who could only offer sheepish grins in response. While they were never crude, they were still men. Young men who could never help but notice attractive women. Young men who were famous, fit, and rich, and liked using those things to their advantage. Young men who were exactly who Roy was twenty years ago.

Curious about what- or rather who- had them so worked up, Roy glanced in the direction they’d been gesturing in a moment ago. His entire went body went warm at the scandalous sight: your Greyhounds kit rolled up to show off plenty of skin, the tiny, flippy little skirt that stopped high on the thighs he’d been kissing the night before, the high socks and clunky heels that completed the outfit, and those pretty pink lips that wrapped around a straw sinfully.

If he didn’t have a match to coach, Roy’d be dragging you out of the stadium and straight to his bed.

Instead, he turned his attention to the pitch, doing his best to ignore the sight of you jumping up and down excitedly and the sound of your girlish cheering that rang in his ears over the roaring of Nelson Road. Even more, he tried to ignore the way his players kept glancing over at you, trying to catch your eyes that seemed to only be interested gazing at their grumpy manager.

Once victory was secured and meeting with the press was finished, Roy made his way through the changing room and to his office, offering his men words of praise. Now he was in his chair, exchanging some chuckles with Beard and Nate, when you strolled in, a scandalous vision with a fucking lollipop in your mouth. You smirked at the sight of Roy, in those track pants you liked so much, hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair and chatted with his assistant coaches. His eyes lit up when he saw you, not bothering to hide the way they raked down your barely concealed figure.

“Hi, Roy,” you purred, giving your candy a kitten lick. All Roy could do was shake his head at you and smirk, fighting to keep his pants under control.

“We should get going,” Beard said slowly, eyes darting between you and Roy. “See you tomorrow, Coach.” He grabbed a blushing Nate by the shoulder and steered him through the changing room, unintentionally garnering the attention of the last few Greyhounds who still loitered in front of their cubbies.

You approached Roy, hips swaying in that way he liked to watch. Still grinning, he stood and leaned on the edge of his desk, letting his hands find your hips, thumbs brushing over your bare skin. Not caring about the ogling stares from the changing room, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Roy’s; he let out the quietest groan when he got a taste of watermelon on your mouth, undoubtedly from that fucking lollipop.

The last of the players in the changing room lingered, jaws slacked as they took in the sight in the office: Roy, their ever-grumpy, always-scowling manager, with his hands and mouth on this young woman no older than themselves, all giggles and bubbliness in that tiny skirt. Even with his reputation and romantic history, none of them ever expected to see this.

Honestly, they kind of respected it.

Remembering that he was, after all, still at work, Roy pulled back from you with more of a smile now, shaking his head at you. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting the gazes in the changing room. Still in Roy’s embrace, you lifted a manicured hand and offered a little wave, giggling when your acknowledgement caused some blushing and wide eyes among the Greyhounds.

Roy, on the other hand, let out a gruff sigh. “You lot can fucking go home,” he growled at his team. “Now.”

Sure enough, there was a scramble, some hushed murmurings about who the fuck was in Roy’s office, and then silence. With another one of those little giggles, you returned your attention to Roy, who was looking at you with a frown. It was all so nonchalant, the way you released yourself from his grip and sat in his chair, swiveling back and forth a few times.

“What’s the matter?” you pouted. “Don’t like my outfit or something?”

Roy crossed his arms, quirking an eyebrow at you. “I like it very much in fact,” he assured you, his wandering gaze confirming his words. “Unfortunately, so did my team.” He smirked and shook his head. “You fucking menace.”

Pleased by his inability to keep his eyes trained on your face, you twirled a strand of hair around your finger. “Was I a distraction?”

“You,” Roy huffed, taking a step closer, “are always a distraction, darling. Just not sure how I feel about you distracting my players.” He nodded towards your thighs. “You and that little fucking skirt of yours.”

Your eyes brightened, alerting Roy that you were up to something. “Guess it’s a good thing they didn’t know about what’s under my skirt.” With that, your legs parted, revealing something that had Roy groaning.

“Fuck,” was all he could say, falling to his knees in front of you. He took in the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening with your arousal. He shamelessly licked his lips, shaking his head in awe, before finding your face again. “She’s already so wet,” he breathed. “What the fuck were you doing before you came in here?”

Spreading your legs wider, you shrugged, swirling that lollipop in your mouth. “Popped into the loo to watch your press conference on my phone,” you explained slowly, your smile turning wicked. “And I might’ve touched myself while I watched you.”

The sound that came from Roy’s throat could only be described as tortured. Normally, he’d have the good sense to get you out of that chair and take you straight home so he could have his way with you. Or at least take the time to lock every door and close all the blinds to secure some privacy. But no. The sight of you, legs spread in his office chair, admitting that you’d just been touching yourself was more than enough to make him forget every ounce of dignity and reasonableness.

Roy had hardly a thought in his head when he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to your already soaking cunt. The breathy sigh you released spurred him on, encouraging him to dip his tongue inside your wetness and taste your arousal. Some little voice in the back of his head scolded him, desperately trying to remind himself where he was, but he could barely hear it over the sounds of his tongue lapping at your folds.

It took the sound of distant footsteps to finally bring Roy back to reality. He pulled back from between your legs, eyes wild and darting between the two wide open doors. When he looked back at you, you were smirking at him, face flushed and eyes full of sin.

There was no way his resolve could last long enough to get you home. He’d have to make do right here, in his office.

He scrambled to lock doors and close blinds while you watched, your eyes trailing down his figure to where his pants were growing tighter by the moment. You liked Roy like this, all frazzled and, honestly, horny. While letting him get back on his knees and planting his face firmly between your thighs sounded perfect, you knew there was something you wanted even more.

By the time Roy shut off the lights turned back to you, you were already perched on his desk, legs spread. You crooked your finger at him, beckoning him to join you. Not that you needed to signal him to approach; Roy was almost immediately at the edge of the desk. Even in the dim light that came in through the closed blinds, you could see the way his eyes darkened as they made their way down your body and to your bare cunt.

“Need something?” he cooed, finally reminding himself that he was more than welcome to have the upper hand here. He reached down and took that lollipop out of your mouth with a pop! and dropped it into the rubbish bin.

Before you could pout or tease, he hovered over you and attached his mouth to yours, all tongue and teeth and moans as his hands began to roam over your bare skin, pushing you onto your back. This was the Roy you liked best, rough and possessive and maybe even a little mean. When his hands slid up your teeny-tiny kit, he let out a groan into your mouth; of course you weren’t wearing a bra. He took your breast in his large hand, squeezing and pinching until you were grinding up against that rock-hard bulge in his trackpants.

“Roy,” you mewled, knowing you were leaving a glistening mess on his pants. “Need you.”

How could he ever say no to your little pouts and huffs and whines?

He shimmied down his pants, freeing what you had to admit was the best cock you’d ever had. He rubbed the tip against your soaked cunt, teasing you with it, watching your face scrunch up in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He tilted his head at you mockingly. “This what you want?” When you nodded desperately, he brought his tip to your clit, rubbing little circles over your bud. “You sure? You had a whole fucking football team looking at you today, wouldn’t you rather have one of them?”

Warmth spread over your skin as you whimpered. While Roy seemed to be content in his knowledge that you were his, he did like to play possessive and jealous sometimes. He liked hearing you begging, promising that you belonged to him. It brought out something primal, something that made him fuck you just a little harder every time. And, after watching his team ogle you, knowing you’d been touching yourself in the loo, having you spread your legs in his chair as you teased him, Roy knew he wanted to make you beg a little.

Sure enough, you desperately shook your head, spreading your legs as wide as that tight little skirt would let you. “Only want you,” you breathed. Then, feeling like riling the retired footballer up a little more, you added, “Daddy.”

His cock twitched against your clit. While you weren’t the first girl to ever call him that, there was something about the way you said it that drove him mad. Maybe it was that delicious mixture of innocence and lust that danced in your eyes. Maybe it was the way you always paired it with a little pout. Or, maybe, Roy was a just perverted man who liked having a twenty-year-old call him daddy.

Either way, that simple little word always got you what you wanted. And it was definitely going to work this time.

Suddenly his cock was back against your entrance, his precum mixing with your wetness. While normally he’d go achingly slow, teasing and torturing you, he’d already lost that self-control you’d been chipping away at since you’d first strolled into the office. With a soft grunt, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open with that delicious burn. Your eyes rolled back when he bottomed out, filling you much better than your fingers had earlier.

And he fucking knew it.

“How’s that?” he growled as he gave a little thrust that had your breath hitching. “My girl like that?”

You nodded, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Yes, daddy,” you gasped. When his thumb found your clit, you let out a soft sob, not caring if there was anyone still in the building to hear your filthy sounds. The only thing you really cared about was the feeling of Roy’s cock twitching inside you and your walls clenching in response.

He fucked you the way you both liked best: rough, a little careless, full of loud moans and sloppy kisses. When you felt his rocking movements begin to stutter, you rolled your hips, offering your best fuck me eyes and gripping his biceps.

Roy’s mouth found your neck, biting and licking recklessly, stretching you perfectly. Your walls tightened around him, begging to be stuffed. With one harsh stroke to your clit, you felt shockwaves all over your body as you fluttered around his cock, soaking it with your pleasure. Hell, you were sure some of your wetness ended up on his desk; Good, you thought wickedly.

The feeling of your climax was enough for Roy. With a twitch that ran through his entire body, he emptied himself inside you, your name a strangled moan on that filthy mouth you loved so much. The two of you rode out your pleasure, filling the dark office with your moans and the smell of sex.

After what felt like hours, Roy slumped on top of you, breathing raggedly. Your fingers found his curly hair, stroking those thick locks as pure bliss overcame your entire body. As much as you enjoyed teasing and cooing at Roy, this was really your favorite part: both of you spent, Roy emptied, you completely full, holding each other as your heartrates returned to normal.

“You,” Roy murmured in your ear, “are fucking amazing. Can’t fucking believe you sometimes, babe.”

Oh yeah. The sweet and dirty little whispers were pretty great too.

You giggled and squeezed him closer, relishing of his cock and cum still inside you. “Would you believe me if I said I’d be interested in going again?” you teased, rolling your hips gently.

The exhausted chuckle that slipped past Roy’s mouth told you he was more than willing. “Insatiable,” he mumbled to himself. He tksed at your little whine when he pulled out of you. “Come on, then. I’d like to fuck you in my own damn house this time, if you don’t mind.”  He helped you off the desk, planting a little kiss to your temple. “And babe?”

“Yeah?” you breathed, a little dizzy in your heels.

He held you close and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Remind me to show you the showers next time you visit.”

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION sweet epilouge ✫ jeon jungkook

the company heads out for a corporate retreat, where tensions run high and personal boundaries blur. During a casual evening event, the HR team inadvertently discovers the secret relationship between you and Jungkook.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

The private resort was a picture of luxury—secluded, sprawling, and nestled between mountains and a crystal-clear lake. It was meant to be a “corporate retreat,” a weekend of bonding and strategizing between the HR and PR teams, with the CEOs in attendance to ensure productivity.

In reality, it was an excuse for overworked employees to drink expensive wine on the company’s dime while pretending to network.

And, unfortunately for you, it also meant being stuck in the same space as Jungkook for an entire weekend—with no desks, boardrooms, or email chains to act as a buffer.

The HR and PR teams were already packed onto the large charter bus by the time you arrived, hurrying down the aisle in search of a seat. Unfortunately, it seemed every spot had been taken—except one.

Right next to Jeon Jungkook. Great.

Jungkook, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans, barely spared you a glance as he scrolled through something on his phone.

“Uh… there aren’t any other seats,” you muttered, gripping the headrest beside him.

He exhaled through his nose, then shifted slightly, gesturing to the open space next to him. “Sit.”

You hesitated for half a second before sliding in, careful not to brush against him. But the space between seats was too small, and despite your best efforts, your thigh pressed against his.

Jungkook stiffened but didn’t say anything. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from his body. This was ridiculous. It was just a bus ride.

Minji, sitting a few rows ahead, turned and wiggled her brows at you. You shot her a glare. The bus rumbled to life, and soon, the city blurred into the countryside. Conversations hummed around you, but in your little corner, silence stretched.

Until Jungkook spoke.

“You’re fidgeting.”

You glanced up, caught off guard. “Huh?”

He tapped his thigh. “Your leg. You keep moving it.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—Sorry.”

You stilled, but then the bus hit a bump, and you really didn’t have a choice but to press into him. Jungkook tensed. His jaw ticked.

“Relax,” he muttered after a beat, voice lower than usual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal? Easy for him to say.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as your heart pounded against your ribs. It was going to be a long ride.

The night was warm, and the resort’s pool was dimly lit, the water reflecting the soft golden glow of the nearby lights. Jungkook leaned against the edge, half-submerged, the cool water doing little to dispel the heat curling in his stomach.

Because you were there. Laughing. Smiling. Completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

You had arrived late, dressed in a sleek black swimsuit that made his throat dry. The HR team had cheered when you finally joined them, and he had tried—really tried—to keep his eyes off you.

It didn’t work.

Especially not when you waded into the pool, water gliding up your body, trailing over your skin in ways that made his fingers twitch.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away.

“Bro, you’re staring.”

Taehyung’s voice snapped him out of it. He turned to find his friend floating lazily beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Jungkook scowled. “Shut up.”

Taehyung chuckled, but before he could say more, a splash of water hit them both.

“Oops,” you said, all faux innocence, blinking at Jungkook through your lashes. “Was that too much?”

Jungkook raised a brow. “You did that on purpose.”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Something hot and dangerous curled in his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play this?

Without a word, he lunged—water sloshing as he grabbed your wrist and tugged, sending you tumbling toward him with a yelp. The movement was quick, effortless.

Suddenly, you were pressed against his chest, eyes wide, breath hitched.

Jungkook smirked, voice low. “Still feeling playful?”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, Minho’s voice rang out.

“Hey! No making out in the pool!”

Laughter erupted. You pushed away from Jungkook, face burning, while he merely leaned back against the edge, looking far too pleased with himself.

Yeah. This weekend was dangerous.

The resort’s garden was quiet, the scent of blooming flowers lingering in the cool evening air. You strolled along the path, enjoying the peace—until you spotted Jungkook leaning against a wooden railing, watching the koi pond.

Alone. You smirked, perfect.

“CEO Jeon,” you drawled, stepping beside him. “Brooding again?”

He didn’t look away. “Thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

You blinked. Heat flooded your face. “What?”

Jungkook finally turned, lips twitching. “You’re easy to fluster.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I hate you."

Jungkook smirked, the glow of the lanterns catching the sharp curve of his lips. "No, you don’t."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I came here for peace, not to be bullied."

He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Funny. I thought you came here looking for me."

Your stomach flipped. The way he said it—low, teasing, dangerous—made heat creep up your neck.

Before you could retaliate, a voice cut through the still night air.

"Jungkook!"

You stiffened. Eunji.

She walked toward you both, poised and effortless, her form-fitting dress swaying around her thighs. She wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t rushing. No—Eunji never rushed. She moved like she owned every room she entered. And worst of all? Jungkook didn’t immediately tell her to leave.

Your stomach twisted.

“I was looking for you,” she said smoothly, barely sparing you a glance. Then, with a practiced smile, she added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

With her.

The unspoken words lingered, thick as smoke in the air.

Your mood soured instantly.

Jungkook, oblivious—or maybe just indifferent—to the sudden shift in energy, raised a brow. “What do you need?”

Eunji stepped closer, closing the space between them. Then, as if it was nothing, she laid a hand on his arm.

Your breath hitched.

“Just a quick chat about the PR strategy,” she murmured, her fingers grazing his sleeve like she had every right to touch him. Like it was normal. Casual. Expected.

Something bitter curled in your chest. Seriously? She couldn’t have waited? You clenched your fists at your sides, willing yourself to stay calm.

Forcing a tight, polite smile, you cleared your throat. “I should go.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his focus snapping back to you. “You don’t have to—”

But you were already turning away. And when you glanced back, Eunji was still touching him.

Still smiling up at him like she belonged there. Your chest ached.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

The scent of burning wood curling into the cool evening air as the flames from the bonfire flickered against the dark sky. The corporate retreat had been filled with structured team-building exercises and tedious strategy meetings, but this—this was the first moment that truly felt alive.

People gathered in clusters, some perched on wooden benches, others sprawled out on blankets across the grass. Laughter echoed around the open-air patio, the sound of clinking glasses blending with the low hum of conversation.

You glanced across the bonfire-lit patio, where your HR team—Soojin, Dohyun, Minji, and Minho—were deep in conversation, laughing over something Minho had said. Further down, Hajun, Jungkook’s ever-efficient assistant, was nursing a glass of whiskey while keeping a watchful eye on his boss.

Jungkook, for his part, had claimed one of the large wooden logs arranged in a circle around the fire, lounging with an effortless kind of ease that contrasted sharply with the tension you felt coiling in your stomach. He was surrounded by his cousins, Seokjin and Yoongi, both looking equally relaxed.

Seokjin, as usual, had taken up the role of storyteller, gesturing wildly as he spun some exaggerated tale from their childhood, much to Yoongi’s quiet amusement.

And then, of course, there was Taehyung. How he had ended up at a corporate retreat when he didn’t even work at the company was beyond you. But when you’d asked, he’d merely smirked, claiming he was an “unofficial consultant” before pouring himself a generous glass of whatever expensive liquor had been set out.

“Someone had to make sure this trip wasn’t completely boring,” he had added with a wink.

The fire crackled, sparks dancing into the night as the alcohol flowed and inhibitions loosened. Someone had brought out a speaker, soft music blending into the conversations. The warmth of the flames mixed with the lingering buzz of the drinks, and for a moment, the lines between colleagues and friends blurred.

But as you watched Jungkook from across the fire, his jaw tight as he laughed at something Seokjin said, his gaze flickering to you for the briefest second—something told you tonight was going to be different.

Then there was Eunji—your not-so-subtle rival from PR—who had been eyeing you all evening with barely veiled suspicion.

"You're being weird," Soojin murmured beside you, nudging your arm.

You blinked. "What?"

"You keep sneaking glances at CEO Jeon." She wiggled her brows. "Got something to confess?"

Minji, overhearing, gasped. "Wait—no way. Do you have a thing for Jungkook?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"She better, considering they’ve been secretly dating for months."

Every head at your table snapped toward the source—none other than Seokjin, who had the smuggest expression imaginable as he leaned back in his chair.

You choked on air. Jungkook, seated beside him, tensed but said nothing, his gaze flicking toward you as the words registered across the firelit patio.

Silence. Then—

"WHAT?!"

Chaos erupted.

Soojin nearly spilled her drink. Minho swore. Dohyun clapped a hand over his mouth. Minji, ever the dramatist, gasped so hard she nearly lost consciousness. Hajun, sipping his whiskey, merely raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised.

Eunji, on the other hand, looked delighted. "You and Jungkook?" She leaned forward, eyes glinting. "So that's why you've been so smug lately."

"I— No, we-" You turned to Jungkook, expecting him to deny it, but instead, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered something under his breath.

That was all the confirmation anyone needed.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S TRUE!" Soojin shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjected. "Since when?!"

Yoongi, who had been silently sipping his drink, finally spoke up, deadpan. "Since forever."

"Why are we just now finding out?" Dohyun demanded, looking genuinely offended.

Jungkook sighed. "Because it was none of your business? We're not dating."

"Wrong answer." Minji shook her head. "The correct answer was, ‘Because we were waiting for the right time to tell you, our dear and beloved friends whom we trust deeply.’ But no, you went with ‘None of your business.’ Unbelievable."

Soojin turned to you, still in shock. "Are you seriously dating Jungkook? As in, our CEO Jungkook? Grumpy CEO Jungkook? Will-fire-you-with-one-look Jungkook?"

Your face was on fire. "Yes."

The reaction was instant—cheers, dramatic gasps, and a round of mock applause. Even Taehyung looked impressed.

"I'm actually kind of proud of you," he told Jungkook, nudging his arm. "I thought you'd die alone."

Jungkook shot him a glare. "Thanks, Taehyung."

But before the conversation could spiral further, Hajun finally spoke, his voice calm and steady as always. "Alright, enough with the theatrics," he said, setting his glass down. "What matters is that they're happy. And if they wanted to keep it private, we should respect that."

A pause. Then—

"You knew, didn't you?" Minho narrowed his eyes at Hajun.

Hajun smirked, taking another sip of whiskey. "I know everything."

Jungkook groaned. You buried your face in your hands. This retreat was not going as planned.

The fire had burned low, embers glowing faintly against the darkened sky. Most of the group had dispersed—some retreating to their rooms, others lingering near the patio, finishing off bottles of wine and whiskey. But you had wandered away, needing space, needing air. The cool night breeze off the lake did little to calm the turmoil in your chest.

You were still thinking about earlier. Jungkook and Eunji.

Eunji’s hand on his arm. Her effortless smile. The way she had looked at him—like she had a right to be there. Like she had a right to him. And worst of all? The way he hadn’t immediately pushed her away.

You exhaled sharply, arms crossed as you stared at the water, your reflection rippling under the moonlight.

Then, footsteps. Jungkook.

He approached quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confidence tempered by something softer. Something cautious. "You okay?" His voice was low, just for you.

You let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked humor. "I mean… our secret kind of... relationship just got very public, so I’d say I’m still processing."

Jungkook’s lips twitched. "Seokjin is never going to let me live this down."

You scoffed. "Seokjin? Jungkook, none of them are letting us live this down."

"True." He tilted his head, watching you carefully before adding, "Are you… mad?"

That made you turn to him fully. "Why would I be mad?"

Jungkook hesitated, his jaw tightening for just a moment. "Because of earlier. At the park."

Your stomach twisted. Of course he knew.

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze back to the lake. "I mean… you didn’t exactly stop her from touching you."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. "You think I wanted that?" His voice was firm now, edged with something frustrated—like the idea of you doubting him genuinely bothered him.

You bit your lip, but before you could speak, he took a step closer, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill. "I only have eyes for you," he said, voice quieter now, more certain.

"I don’t care about Eunji. Or about my ex. I never have. And if I didn’t shut them down fast enough, it’s only because I was too busy watching you and trying to figure out how the hell to make it right."

Your breath hitched.

"So let me make it right now," he murmured, closing the last bit of space between you.

You reached for his hand first, lacing your fingers through his. "I don’t mind," you admitted. "If anything, I think it’s kind of a relief. I hated pretending you weren’t—" You swallowed, cheeks warming. "—important to me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head. "Because I’m done pretending, too."

And then, under the soft glow of the moon, with the sound of the lake lapping against the shore, he kissed you—not in secret, not hidden away, but out in the open.

For the first time, it wasn’t a secret. And for the first time, it didn’t need to be.

previous

[christopherisfoive]

Underneath It All

Han x reader (College AU)

Note: I miss writing dearly however I can not get myself to do so. I have been reading stuff by others and missing those authors who are away. I hope to be able to read their work again soon xx

word count: 5.4k

I let my eyes wander to the bench where he sat with his friends, talking and eating his lunch. From the curl of his hair to the color of his lips, I was always enamored with his presence. I understood his appeal—the way girls around the school followed him, talking to his friends just to steal a moment of his attention.

I sighed and lowered my gaze to the grapes on my tray.

"I don't understand why you don't just go up to him and talk like everyone else does," my friend Kat said. She always insisted I had the confidence to do whatever I wanted—just like she did.

"It's because I can't do that. I'm not you. Also I don't really get the hype."

She huffed and stuffed one of my grapes into her mouth. I shot her an unserious look, but luckily, she turned the conversation around, and we started talking about finals next week. I tried to lure my brain back to its senses, forcing myself to forget about the puffy-cheeked boy sitting mere feet away.

I hear the screeching of a chair and glance up just as Han stands with his tray. Our eyes meet for a split second. His gaze sharpens, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression hardens—dismissive, like we were kids at the playground and I had just stolen his favorite toy.

“Something interesting?” he says, cocking a brow.

I clear my throat and look away, pretending to focus on the grapes on my tray. “Not at all.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, low enough that only I catch it. When I glance up again, he’s already walking away.

Kat smirks. “Oooooh, tension.”

I roll my eyes and swipe a fry from her plate, ignoring the smug look on her face. I just wanted the next class to come already.

Hours pass, and somehow, I make it to the end of the day. My last class—Art Concepts—is with the least engaging professor in the entire university.

Most days, I can focus just fine, but on select afternoons like this, I find myself sketching assignments for my drawing courses instead.

I usually kept to myself in this class anyway. It just so happened that Han and his two friends, Hyunjin and Felix, were also enrolled.

Today, though, I only saw his friends—no Han in sight.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the professor still hadn't shown up. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but most students were just waiting. I let my mind wander, zoning out as my gaze settled on the only empty desk beside me.

I didn’t even realize how long I had been staring until a familiar, taunting voice broke through my thoughts.

"Are you, like, alive? Or…?"

I blinked and looked up—straight into Han’s gaze.

I hadn’t even noticed him walk in. But now, standing there with that ever-present smirk, he seemed way too amused. And worse? While I had been lost in my thoughts, I completely missed the fact that this was the only open seat left.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just waiting," I respond nonchalantly, forcing my voice to stay even.

I look away before he can catch the shift in my mood, but I swear he senses it anyway.

Han hums, dragging out the sound like he doesn’t quite believe me. "Right. Just waiting. Definitely not zoned out, looking completely lost in thought or anything."

I scoff, finally glancing back at him. "Do you always narrate people’s lives, or am I just lucky?"

His smirk widens as he slides into the empty seat next to me. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

I can feel the warmth of his presence, the slight brush of his arm against mine, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I turn my focus back to my sketchbook, determined not to let him get under my skin.

But he’s relentless. "You’re awfully quiet now," he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. "You were doing so well with that attitude a second ago."

I glance at him again, my eyes narrowing. "Maybe I just don’t have the energy for you today."

His lips twitch, and he leans in slightly, too close for comfort. "Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention to my sketchbook instead of whatever this was turning into.

I put the rest of my energy into finishing my sketch, hoping the professor would show up—though I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a last-minute cancellation email. My eyelids felt heavy, and my head bobbed every so often, fighting sleep.

Suddenly, I sat up straight, forcing myself to stay awake.

I could feel Han’s gaze shift toward me. His eyes flicked up and down, like he was assessing me. "You good?"

I didn’t even look at him, keeping my focus on my sketchbook. "Yeah. Just… tired."

He tilted his head slightly, clearly intrigued. "Tired? Or just bored?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "A little bit of both. How about you? Enjoying the show?"

Han chuckled, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I’m enjoying it alright. Watching you struggle to stay awake? Priceless."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, but I couldn’t help the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right, and the worst part? He knew it.

"Why did you show up late? Didn’t want to sit with your buddies today?" I ask with a small, teasing smile, barely keeping the smugness out of my voice.

Han quirks an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, his usual cocky expression falters. "What, you think I’m avoiding them?"

I shrug casually, keeping my gaze fixed on my sketchbook, though I can’t help but notice how he leans in slightly, probably trying to figure me out. "Could be," I say with a slight smirk, though the truth is, I was just trying to throw him off.

He chuckles, but there’s a certain glint in his eyes now. "You don’t know me as well as you think, do you?"

I smile meekly, a bit of satisfaction tugging at the corners of my lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He leans in a little, voice dropping. "Or maybe I just don’t need them to have a good time."

My heart skips a beat at the implication, but I don’t let it show. "Really? So you're fine with sitting next to me then?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the challenge alive.

He smirks, leaning back again. "Oh, I don’t mind. You make this class way more interesting."

I roll my eyes, not sure whether I should be annoyed or… flattered? Either way, I keep my cool. "Sure, because I’m the life of the party."

Han chuckles softly, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me now. "You’d be surprised."

I sit back in my chair, glancing down towards the front of the class, trying to ignore the slight unease swirling in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Hyunjin and Felix staring at us—eyes flicking between me and Han. The second they realize I’ve caught their gaze, they quickly look away, though I swear I see the corners of their lips twitching.

I try not to let it get to me, focusing on the front of the room instead, but it’s impossible not to feel like I’ve become the topic of their conversation.

Han, of course, notices their quick reaction too, and I can almost hear the smug satisfaction in his voice when he speaks. "They can’t keep their eyes off us, huh?"

I sigh inwardly, not giving him the satisfaction of looking his way again. "Maybe they’re just bored."

Han leans closer, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s sharing a secret. "I think they know something’s going on. Maybe they’re waiting for us to make a move."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, leaning back slightly in my chair. "And what kind of move would that be?"

Han tilts his head, a glimmer of curiosity behind his smirk. "I don’t know… something a little less, uh, distant." His gaze flicks briefly to my face, studying me.

I give him a pointed look. "Distant? I’m not the one leaning in every two seconds."

He chuckles, clearly amused by my response, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. "True. You’re different from the others."

I scoff, leaning forward a little. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs casually, but I can see a slight shift in his posture, as if he’s trying to gauge me a little more. "Just that… most girls are pretty eager to talk to me. But you? You don’t exactly jump at the chance."

I keep my expression neutral, but a little voice in the back of my mind tells me he’s digging for something more. "Guess I’m just not like them."

Han raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Guess not." He leans back in his chair, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with. "But it’s interesting, don’t you think? The way you’re not all over me like everyone else."

I don't respond to him. Not because I have nothing to say but because I have this horribly feeling that if I do I'll confess to him about all the times I have thought about talking to him.

I don’t respond to him—not because I have nothing to say, but because I have this horrible feeling that if I do, I’ll accidentally confess to him all the times I’ve thought about talking to him.

The thought hits me like a wave, and my throat tightens. I can’t bring myself to say anything more. If I open my mouth, I might just blurt out all the things I’ve been trying to avoid. All the days I’ve watched him from across the room, imagining what it would be like to just walk up to him and say something.

Instead, I stay silent, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my heart’s picking up speed. I keep my gaze locked on my sketchbook, willing myself to focus on the lines in front of me, even as his presence next to me feels too loud.

Han doesn’t push me for an answer, but I can feel his eyes on me—probing, like he’s waiting for me to crack.

I can feel my heart beat in my ears, each thud louder than the last. My breath catches in my throat, and before I can stop it, I let out a small, awkward cough, hoping it’ll cover up the fact that I’m suddenly drowning in this unwelcome feeling.

I try to look down at my sketchbook, but it’s like the weight of his gaze is heavy on me now. I know he’s still watching, and it makes my skin burn with embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Han’s voice breaks through the silence, and it’s so much softer than I expect.

I swallow hard, willing my face to stay neutral. "Yeah, fine," I say quickly, trying to sound casual, but I can feel the heat in my cheeks betraying me.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

I glance at him, just for a second, and then immediately look away when I realize the intensity in his eyes. Great, now he probably knows I’m acting weird.

Han doesn’t laugh or tease this time. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, and then his voice comes, softer than before. "You sure you’re fine?"

I look up at him, trying to keep the nervous flutter out of my chest, but his gaze is a little too intense. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come out immediately. Why is he being like this?

He leans a little closer, his tone casual but with an undertone of something more. "You don’t usually act like this. You, uh, okay?" His eyes flicker to my face, like he’s trying to read me.

For a second, I consider just brushing it off. But the way he’s looking at me—so quietly observant, like he’s seeing through my walls—makes me hesitate. I can’t just say something random and pretend everything’s fine.

I clear my throat, finally forcing words out. "Yeah. I’m just tired."

Han doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push further. He leans back, though his gaze still lingers for a moment longer than I expect. "Alright. Just making sure."

By this time, it's been almost thirty minutes, and the professor still hasn’t shown up. I glance at the clock, my patience running thin. I decide that saving myself by leaving is the best option. The thought of heading back to my dorm and possibly taking a nap on my desk sounds like pure bliss right now.

I start packing my things back into my bag, my mind already half-out the door. I’m just about to zip it up when I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, feeling the weight of the day settle in.

Before I can grab my bag and head out, I hear Han’s voice again, this time sounding a bit more serious than I expect. "You leaving?"

I pause, the motion of stuffing my sketchbook into my bag halting as I glance up at him. Han’s eyes are no longer playful, and his posture is slightly more upright, like he's actually paying attention to me for the first time today.

I hesitate for a second, debating whether to just walk away or give him some kind of answer. Finally, I shrug, trying to sound casual even though I can feel the heat rising in my chest. "Yeah, don’t think this class is happening."

Han studies me for a moment, and then his lips curl into a small, almost knowing smirk. "You sure about that? I think you just might be missing something."

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine, but it’s enough to make me stop mid-motion. I stare at him, my hand frozen on the zipper of my bag. Is he serious? Does he want me to stay?

I stare at him for a moment, unsure if I heard him right. His expression has shifted again, no longer playful, but still too hard to read. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a strange pull—like maybe I’m missing something, like maybe he wants me to stay.

I glance at the door, my mind already made up. I should just leave. This class is practically canceled anyway.

But something in the way Han is looking at me makes me pause. Why do I feel like I’m being baited?

He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is stare back, unsure of how to respond. I can’t decide whether it’s his confidence or the curiosity building between us that’s keeping me rooted to the spot.

Finally, I let out a small, almost nervous laugh. "You really think the professor is going to show up?" I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear I’m still trying to deflect.

Han just shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his smirk returning. "Could be. Or maybe, you're just avoiding something."

I frown, unsure of what he means, but the way he says it catches my attention. He’s not even teasing anymore. There’s something in his eyes—something that makes me feel like he’s trying to figure me out, in the way that only someone who’s actually paying attention would.

I bite my lip, looking back at my bag again, but somehow, I don’t feel the urge to rush out the door anymore. I feel... caught.

Han’s eyes flicker to my bag and then back to me. "You know, I’ve never actually seen you stick around after class." His voice is low, and even though he sounds nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight behind it. "What’s the rush?"

I feel my stomach flip. He’s definitely noticed something, and I’m not sure if I like that.

I bite my lip, my fingers tracing the edge of my bag, the words swirling in my head. It’s you. You’re the reason I feel like I’m in a rush.

But I can’t say that. I can’t tell him that.

Instead, I clear my throat, trying to shake the weight of my own thoughts off. "I don’t know, maybe I just... have stuff to do." The words feel hollow, like they’re coming from someone else, but I push them out anyway, hoping it will stop him from seeing right through me.

Han doesn’t seem convinced, though. His gaze never wavers, like he’s watching for any little sign I might give away. And somehow, I feel like I’m standing completely exposed, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking but is waiting for me to say it.

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my cool. "I don’t like staying after class. Just feels... pointless."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel like he’s trying to coax me into admitting something—anything.

I let out a breath, my heart beating just a little faster. There’s this feeling creeping up my chest, like maybe, just maybe, if I told him—if I said the words—something would change. But I can’t.

"Anyway," I say, my voice steady but shaking on the inside, "I should probably go."

I stand up quickly, trying to escape the suffocating tension. I can feel his eyes on me as I move, and it makes my pulse quicken even more. It’s him. He’s the rush. He’s the one who keeps me from leaving. But I can’t say it. Not now. Not ever.

I push through the door of the building, the cool air hitting my face as I step outside. I take a deep breath, hoping the open space will calm my nerves. The campus is quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle having quieted down as students filter out of the building, heading in different directions.

Finally. I’m free.

But as I take a step forward, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me. A little too close to be a coincidence.

I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.

I keep walking, my steps faster now, almost instinctively, trying to escape this strange feeling gnawing at me. I feel the weight of his gaze even without looking back.

But then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.

"Not running away again, are you?"

I freeze. My heart stumbles in my chest. Han’s standing just behind me now, a few steps away but enough to make it impossible to ignore him. The teasing tone is still there, but it’s quieter, more deliberate. His presence is almost… unsettling now.

I slowly turn to face him, trying to keep my expression neutral, but I’m sure he can see the flicker of confusion in my eyes. He looks completely unbothered, like following me out here was the most normal thing in the world.

"I’m not running away," I say quickly, my voice a little sharper than I intended. I don’t even know why I feel defensive; it’s not like I owe him an explanation.

Han doesn’t seem to mind my tone. He just looks at me with that same unreadable expression. His eyes flicker toward the building we just came from, then back to me.

"So, what is it then?" His voice is low, casual, but the question hangs in the air like a challenge. "You avoiding me?"

I laugh, but it’s tight, forced. "No, I’m not avoiding you." My stomach twists, but I refuse to let him see how much his words are affecting me.

Han steps closer, the space between us shrinking, and I feel my pulse quicken. "Funny," he says with a half-smile, his gaze intense. "Because it sure seems like it."

I try to step around him, my thoughts a jumbled mess, but Han steps into my path again, blocking my way. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes are serious now. He’s not playing games anymore.

"Are you really just going to walk away?"

My breath catches, but I stay silent, my heart pounding like it’s about to escape my chest. I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with that same piercing gaze. I feel pinned in place, like I’m stuck between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

I take another step, trying to brush past him, but Han mirrors me, moving just slightly to the side to stay in my path.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asks, his voice low, almost like he’s teasing, but there’s a seriousness in the way he looks at me. "You can’t just walk away from this."

I turn my back to him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. He’s not going to let it go.

"What’s your deal, huh?" I snap, spinning around to face him, my voice shaky but loud. I can feel my emotions starting to spiral out of control. "Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep following me?"

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he’s right back to that confident, collected expression. He steps even closer, barely any space between us now. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can stop it, the floodgates open. "Curious?" I laugh, the sound coming out bitter. "You want to know why I’m avoiding you, right?"

I don’t wait for him to answer. The words are spilling out before I can think, like they’ve been locked inside me for far too long.

"It’s you, okay? You… you intrigue me." I wince as I say it, my own voice feeling too loud, too vulnerable. "I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about talking to you all the time, and I just… I just can’t."

I can’t believe I’m saying this. My heart is racing so fast, I’m sure he can hear it. I’m terrified of how exposed I feel, how raw my emotions are right now.

Han’s eyes soften, just slightly, and for a second, I think maybe he’s going to say something comforting, but then his lips curl into a small smile.

"So, you do want to talk to me, huh?" He leans in a little closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Then why don’t you?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I want to run away. I want to disappear into the ground and never come back. But I can’t. Not now. Not with him standing there, waiting for me to finish what I started.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it. His eyes are still on me, waiting for my next move, the silence stretching between us like an invisible thread pulling me in.

"So, you think about talking to me all the time?" Han’s voice is a little lower now, almost teasing, but there’s something behind his words I can’t quite place. He steps just a little bit closer, his proximity making everything feel heavier.

I try to pull back, but something in me is rooted to the spot. "I…" My voice falters, and I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crumble.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes glinting with something that I can’t quite name. Then, finally, he steps back just a bit, his shoulders softening, as if he’s deciding to give me space. But instead of turning away, he looks at me with a soft, genuine smile.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says quietly. The teasing edge is gone, replaced by something warmer. More real. "I just… didn’t expect you to say that."

The words settle around me like a weight, and for the first time since this entire conversation started, I feel like I can breathe. His presence isn’t overwhelming now—it’s almost comforting. Like he’s not trying to get anything out of me, but just… understanding.

I don’t know why, but the sudden shift in his demeanor makes me feel like I’ve been holding my breath all this time.

"You intrigue me, too," I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels almost like a confession, but it’s true.

I can’t look at him directly, not after everything I’ve said, so I focus on my hands, suddenly feeling all too aware of how much I’ve just exposed. My cheeks heat up, and I pray he won’t notice.

But then, Han reaches out, just lightly touching my arm, and my heart skips a beat. It’s so gentle, almost like he’s trying to steady me without saying a word.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, his voice soft, the teasing gone completely now. "You don’t have to explain yourself."

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy—so intense—begins to soften. The walls I had built up around myself start to crumble in the most unexpected way. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time since I’ve known him, and I can’t help but smile softly.

For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us like a quiet thread connecting us in ways I never imagined. My heart is still racing, but it’s not in a panic anymore. It’s the kind of racing that feels real, like something is about to change.

Han’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and I can feel the weight of everything I’ve just said hanging in the air. His eyes soften just a little, and I wonder if he can feel the shift too. Maybe he’s as caught up in this as I am.

The tension feels like it’s building again, but this time it’s different. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable—it’s something else. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me, or if it’s because I finally said the truth out loud, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

But before I can say anything else, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart gives a little lurch, and I look away just as Hyunjin and Felix come around the corner of the building. Han doesn’t break eye contact with me until they catch up, and then he turns his head slightly, breaking the spell we were caught in.

"Hey, guys," Han says, his tone shifting as his friends approach. They give him a knowing look, and then they glance at me, but they don’t say anything right away. It’s like they’re waiting for him to explain.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a little out of place. "Hey," I mumble, trying to act casual even though my heart is still pounding.

Han looks over at me, his eyes glinting with a teasing edge again, but there’s something different in his expression this time.

"These are my friends, Hyunjin and Felix." He gestures toward the two of them. "You’ve met Felix before, right?"

Felix gives me a warm smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. "Yeah, I think we had a class together last semester!"

Hyunjin just gives me a small nod, his eyes sharp, but he doesn’t say much. I’m sure he’s observing everything, like he always does.

I try to smile back at them, but the conversation feels a little distant now. I’m still reeling from the earlier exchange with Han, and now, with the three of them standing there, I’m not sure what to say.

"Nice to meet you both," I say, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Han catches my eye again, and I can feel the unspoken words between us. The way he looks at me now is different—like he knows something I don’t.

As soon as Hyunjin and Felix join us, the atmosphere shifts again. I notice Felix giving me another friendly smile, but Hyunjin, on the other hand, seems to be observing us a little too closely.

Han looks at him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "What?" Han asks, his voice tinged with a quiet warning.

Hyunjin leans in a little, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Han, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn’t know you were so... chatty these days."

Han’s cheeks flush slightly, and I catch the briefest moment where he looks like he’s about to say something, but he just gives a short, almost dismissive laugh instead. He turns to me, trying to play it cool again. "Don’t mind him, he likes to tease."

But Hyunjin’s eyes never leave Han, and he raises an eyebrow, his tone light but with an edge. "Oh, we can tell."

Felix seems to catch on to the vibe pretty quickly and shoots a look at Hyunjin, trying to diffuse the moment with a casual comment. "It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out, right?"

Hyunjin shrugs, his gaze still lingering on Han for just a moment longer before he finally turns to me with a bright, friendly grin. "Sorry if we’re making things awkward. We’ve just been waiting for Han to make a move for, like, forever."

My heart skips, but I force a smile, pretending I didn’t catch the hint. I look at Han, who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "A move?" I ask, genuinely confused.

Felix jumps in quickly, laughing a little too loudly. "He means just, you know… being less of a weirdo around people."

Han shoots him a glare, and I can see his usual easygoing confidence slipping just slightly. "I don’t know what they’re talking about," he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But it doesn’t seem like Hyunjin is done just yet. He leans in a bit, looking at Han with a playful, knowing grin. "Sure, sure. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you show us how you really feel."

I’m still not entirely sure what they mean, but it’s enough to make my heart race again, a mix of confusion and something I can’t quite place bubbling up inside me.

I glance between them, trying to piece together what they’re saying. Felix and Hyunjin are clearly enjoying themselves, but Han seems... almost caught off guard by their teasing. It’s subtle, but there’s something in the way he won’t meet my eyes, something that makes my stomach twist.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin grins, shooting me a playful wink, his tone light but knowing. "Oh, don’t worry about it," he says, before nudging Felix. "You’ll figure it out soon enough."

I blink, still unsure, but I feel my cheeks start to burn again. My eyes flicker to Han, who's now standing just a little too close for comfort. He’s still quiet, but I can feel the weight of his presence beside me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something.

My heart is pounding, and I try to brush off the tension, but it’s getting harder to ignore.

As if sensing my confusion, Han finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. "It’s not like that." He glances at me, his gaze lingering just long enough for me to catch the subtle vulnerability in his eyes before he looks away.

The moment feels heavy, and I’m not sure if it’s my racing heartbeat or the silence between us that makes it so hard to breathe. I feel like I should say something, but I’m not sure what to make of any of this yet.

Felix and Hyunjin continue their walk ahead, but I’m left standing there, caught between confusion and something else—something that feels a lot like... curiosity.

I glance at Han again, but this time, he doesn’t look back. Instead, he gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, like he’s resigned to something. "You should get going," he says, his voice almost gentle.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah… I should." But even as I turn to walk away, I feel his presence linger behind me, and I know that whatever this is between us... it’s not over yet.

[cigarettesaftersae]

i'll like you - 08 seven minutes in heaven

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: reo mikage x f!reader | contains : fluff, angst, jealousy, academic rivals, fake dating

masterlist

WN: emotional talk, friendship lost, no smut (ik the title is supposed to be freaky but no freak)

(erm about 5k words but nothing too serious:p)

Naomi stumbled upon Yuna’s desk the moment the bell rang, her usual nosy, insufferable self on full display. Gorgeous, smart, kind, and, of course, rich—yet somehow, she managed to be as obvious as ever.

“So… Yuna,” she drawled, tilting her head with feigned innocence. “Did Y/N like Reo?”

Yuna barely blinked. “No. Do you like him?”

Naomi let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Heh, well…” The girls around them giggled, feet shuffling in anticipation. Everyone knew what was coming next.

“I mean, we practically grew up together and everything,” she continued, voice laced with a sickly sweetness. “But I… I guess I can’t really like him anymore since he has a girlfriend, right?”

Yuna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Maybe if Naomi got bangs, she’d be a perfect Lila Rossi knockoff.

“I was just curious,” Naomi added, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t know Y/N had a thing for him at all. It’s so… sudden.”

A dramatic sigh escaped her lips, poisoning the air with artificial sorrow. “I just thought Reo and I had something special,” she murmured, voice trembling just enough to sell the act.

Right on cue, the girls around her swarmed with words of comfort, clinging to her faux distress. Yuna, however, kept her hands to herself.

She knew.

She knew Naomi’s perfect-girl act, her fake sweetness, the way she wove a flawless love story with Reo like it was destiny. She also knew that Naomi was planning something—something that involved you.

Yet, here she was. Being her ‘friend.’

It wasn’t like her at all. But then again, lately, nothing felt real. Not Naomi. Not Reo. Not herself,

not even you. Everything was a lie.

He’s frying your brain, you figured that he was a yapper and such but WOW did you not expect this. Maybe if you just close your eyes—

“Y/n! Are you trying to sleep? I’m still talking to you.”

“Yeah, no, you’re sending extra epic echolocation straight into my ears,” you grumble.

Reo only grins, completely unfazed. “Do you have a favorite chocolate? Or did you like the ones I got you last time? Are you allergic to anything?”

“Peanut butter.”

“Wait—really?”

“I don’t know.”

His brows furrow. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

You groan, turning to the only person who might save you. “Nagi, take your boyfriend or something.”

“eh?…I thought he was your boyfriend,” Nagi mumbles, barely looking up from his phone.

Reo huffs, undeterred. “Come on, why won’t you tell me anything?”

“Because if I do, you’ll buy some overpriced $1000 junk like you did for me and my mom earlier. No more questions, I already answered enough.” You drop your head back down, finally able to close your eyes for a whole second—

“Do you have a favorite animal?”

“Reo.”

“My love, you’re hurting me.” Reo pouts, acting heartbroken

Lifting your head, you meet his gaze, his violet eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What if I get to know more about you instead?”

Reo grins. “Alright. I play the guitar, I play soccer, I speak multiple languages, and—”

“I meant know you. Not the version you project to everyone else.” Your voice lowers slightly. “I hated that version of you anyway.”

He raises a brow, amused. “So… are you saying you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, Barney.”

An offended scoff escapes Reo’s lips as he clutches his chest dramatically. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Look at you, purple head.” You gesture vaguely at his hair, but the longer you stare at him, the more a strange guilt settles in your chest. It creeps in like thorns growing on the stem of a ripe red rose—unseen at first, but impossible to ignore.

A sigh escapes your lips before you ask, softer this time, “What do you actually like? Not what you show off to others—what do you really like? Or hate? Your friends? Your favorite flowers?”

Reo pauses, tilting his head in thought. Seconds tick by. Thirty. Forty. A whole minute.

Finally, he exhales, a small frown tugging at his lips. “…I don’t know.”

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet admission. But you get it. His whole life has been a performance, shaped by expectations, by a lie he never really chose.

“Well,” you murmur, leaning forward just a bit. “Don’t you like soccer? Tell me about it.”

“Here, first edition by way.” Reo’s delicate hands extend a book toward you. One that you’ve been dying to read but never could find it but there it was. Just another item placed around in the 50,000 book—or maybe more, library in the Mikage house— or whatever that building was. How is that a house?

You hesitantly take hold of the book, you’re still spellbound to see it in person, right in front of your two eyes. A star so bright, and full of glitter yet this time it wasn’t out of your hand’s reach. “Is this the only thing you got me?”

“Did you want more?” Reo’s eye light up

“No. You better not have gotten more.”

The hand tucked behind his back slowly reaches out to expose a small keychain and before he could open his mouth in protest you stop him, “ah- no. Why did you even get that?”

“I just..saw it at the store and it reminded me of you.”

“I told you to stop spending things for me, this relationship isn’t even…real” You say softly, avoiding your gaze as you rub the back of your neck

“Well, yes. But our friendship isn’t right?”

It takes a good moment before youre able to gaze into his eyes and respond “It isn’t”

“Oh— and uh dinner with my parents this Friday.” His subject change wasn’t the thing that surprised, it was the fact that it was tomorrow!

“What— wait you didn’t tell me it was this week, I thought we started the Friday dinners next week!”

A chuckle. Just a nervous childish chuckle paired with a cute smile was all you received from Reo as he shy's away. He knew this would make you angry, you weren’t exactly ready to meet one of the richest families on Earth. “Well… They actually found out before I could tell them and then they just arranged to meet you Friday— or tomorrow I guess”

“Reo! I don’t even know what to wear! Have you seen my wardrobe? It’s not Mikage fancy like”

“I like your wardrobe” His happy little smile paved the way through your stress

“But Reo-” His hand softly brushes through yours in reassurance.

“Y/n, I already arranged everything for you. I’ll pick you up at 6 after school, and if you want I’ll pick something out for you to wear. You just need to sit and look pretty and eat. I’m sure the look pretty part is easy for you though.”

The last sigh allowed you to finally breathe normally, stress out the window as Reo continue to rub the sides of your shoulders and soft knuckles. His touch ever so hazy, a kiss of gentle, and melodic “I have practice today so…” Reo stopped mid-thought, gaze lingered, unreadable. He wanted to kiss your cheek a nice goodbye before heading off but he stilled. “I’ll see you tomorrow” His figure began to fade.

As Reo left, there was no point in staying at school any longer. With a sigh, you picked up your feet and headed toward the gates. The sun dimmed down, hueing it’s lucent colors on your radiant skin. Warm, you felt. Just from the touch of it’s lingering kiss, a gift from the Sun was like a gift from Reo. But the moment passed to soon, now it seemed like the dark night had conquered the sky but it didn’t. It was just Yuna.

She looked at you for moment till she started walking, speeding up to avoid you at all cost. “Wait—” it slipped out of your mouth, you’re desprate, hungry, starving—don’t leave. please

She stopped in her tracks the moment she heard your voice, her head turning back to look at you, but her eyes didn’t carry the same look she use to give you.

“I never really liked Nagi…” You try to reason, you could even break down on your knees, bruise it as it may— please, please forgive me.

“Ok..” The shatter on your heart couldn’t get any worse, you knew how angry she was. But did she know how miserable you are. How wretched of the nothing you are without her?

“Yuna—”

“Why are you dating him? Reo. You barely even talked to him, and Naomi and him are soon to be lovers one day.”

“He’s…gracious and caring”

“Is that just another labyrinth lie”

“What— no no it isn’t”

“You’re all a bunch of liars.” Naomi and her personality? Fake. Your and Reo’s relationship, a facade. Her head look down at her feet, avoiding your heavyhearted gaze. One look into your eyes and she’ll give in.

“I don’t want to talk you anymore” And with that, makes Yuna the biggest liar. She loved to talk to you right now. About how she’s having trouble understanding the math assignment, or the new boy on the streets, the spider she saw in the shower, the haircut she’s been wanting to get, but mostly just talk to you. Be with you. But her body takes control of it’s own and wanders away from the very one she die for.

Arriving home after that was nothing more than depressing, all this time you thought Yuna was avoiding you but it hit you the moment you saw her. You were the one avoiding everything, using Reo as a way to function with Yuna gone, pretending like there weren’t nasty gossip about you and Reo and now you have to meet your fake-boyfriend’s parents. Your life is a mess. You wipe away the small tear dripping down your cheek once you heard the door creak open, your mom entered. Gently setting herself next to you. “Is something wrong?”

“No…well…yeah?”

“Is it about your boyfriend? Is he treating you wrong”

You softly chuckle, her motherly humor filling the room’s warmth. Engulfing you with love

“Kinda. Tomorrow I have to go to dinner with his parents.”

“Oh…yeah… I wanted to talk to you about that.” Your mother grew in a deep breath. “I know that the choices I did in my past wasn’t…necessarily good and it can effect you gravely, but never let anyone talk you down on that. You are the greatest gift I can have.” She kiss you on the head, her hand wraps around yours “He must really like you if he’s willing to face the consequences. You know, when I went to school with his parents, they were such bitches.”

“Mom!”

“I know, I know—one dollar in the cussing jar.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But I meant it. If there’s anything bothering you, you’d tell me, right?”

You nod, offering a small smile as she leaves the room.

But the truth is—he wasn’t the problem at all. If anything, he was the reason you were still here, still happy. The weight in your chest wasn’t because of him. It was because of her.

Yuna.

The mess you made, the way things fell apart between you two—it haunted you. How could you ever forgive yourself for what happened? For the hurt you caused?

After she left, it was like the world lost its color. You spent a week drowning in your own thoughts, sinking deeper into something you couldn’t quite escape. The sky stayed gray no matter how many times you looked up, hoping for a change.

But then, when you lifted your head again, it wasn’t Yuna standing there.

It was Reo.

And for the first time in a long while, the sky didn’t seem so gray.

The next morning you’re greeted with a limo, again. Reo exits the car to say hi, but his great smile was already good enough to fill you with warmth. He almost looked like Yuna in a slight moment. “Y/n! Good morning.” He moves to the side to let you in first but quickly stops you, “Are you sure you can come to school, you look sick.” He starts to worry, hands feeling your forehead for any high temperatures, he’s looking around you if any bones or muscles are sore, or if you’re limping. “It’s okay, I’m not sick.” You reassure him, a small laughter leaves your lips as you see him worried so quickly

”Your eyes are really swollen, are you sure?’ He leaned in more close, more worried. His breath making whole contact on the hair on your skin.

“Uh— yeah you know I just got makeup in my eye so…” You try to excuse yourself and look away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“…Were you crying? Was it because of me? If you don’t want to see my parents today I’ll tell them no.”

“No it’s not that… um lets just get in the car and head to school first.” Before you could slip into the limo, his hand lands on your shoulder

“You can tell me if anything is wrong, you’re my friend y/n”

You sigh with a soft smile “Stop worrying and let’s go. We’re gonna be late”

“Late— Oh shoot we need to hurry!”

“You go ahead Nagi, we’ll meet you.” Unhurried, Reo insists his other duo to go first which was quite obvious to you what his intentions was. His heel quickly turns to face you fully, still carrying that angelic smile. “Soo…” He started off slowly, building, rhyming into your ease, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You both start walking towards the school, students in their uniforms, some messy, some neat, some— are something, pass by as you walk with your ‘boyfriend’ and to your measure girls and boys gather around to admire Reo Mikage and the flowers that following behind him as he walks. “Yeah…—well, I don’t know maybe.” Your breath hitched just for a second before saying her name, it felt impossible to say. It felt like you didn’t deserve to say her name for how horrible you were to her. You did lie to her, and you still are by playing around with the Mikage boy. “I spoke to Yuna yesterday.” Your voice steady, soft, and low. Eyes on the ground, avoidant on everything around you even the pink petals following on your shoulders and the thins between your hair. You couldn’t see but Reo’s attention shifted all upon you, and only you.

“Oh…” Reo softly caresses the side of your shoulder “I know it seems hard…I mean you’re going to meet my parents today, and you’re arguing with Yuna, but you’re never alone. You have your mom, whose nice and always seems like the type to fight for you. And you have….me. So cry or don’t cry, whatever happens from now on. I’m here.” You crane your neck up, embracing all the details of his beauty. He looked more dreamy up close. The soft pads of his thumb caress your dumpling cheek, wiping away your tear. You start to tear up even more, your nose speeding it’s way to breathe. Reo starts to panic, his eyes widen in fear Did I say something wrong?!—Was I too insensitive? Gah, I’m so stupid!

“Y—y/n! Is—is it because of me? I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry—” He quickly hugs you, comforting your head in his chest as you sob. His hand swaying back and forth in the locks of your hair. His touch smooth and caring. His other arm wrapped around you, feeling evermore secure then ever. “I’m sorry…”

Oh, and let’s not forget the crowd. Yeah, they’re still here—watching, wide-eyed, as you and Reo share what might just be the most intimate moment of your life. Their gasps are barely audible, breaths hitched in awe, eyes locked onto the quiet intimacy unfolding in the middle of the field. The world around you feels like it’s slowing down, wrapped in the warmth of his touch, his words, him. And yet, the weight in your chest lingers.

The longest seven minutes of your life. That’s how it felt—wrapped in Reo’s warm embrace, his hand smoothing over your hair as if trying to silence every unspoken fear inside you. Your breath steadies, the tear-stained ache in your chest easing, and yet… he doesn’t let go. Even with the crowd long gone, leaving only the two of you beneath the gentle breeze of the afternoon, he still holds you. "Reo…” Your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to make him straighten, body instantly attentive, as if ready to spring into action at your every word. You hear the nervous gulp in his throat. "Yes?" His response is soft, cautious. You take a breath. "Thank you. Sorry I’ve been a whole mess lately." Reo scoffs playfully, his grip around you not loosening. "It’s no problem," he mumbles, barely above a whisper, like he’s scared his words might make you crumble again. For a moment, there’s only silence—comfortable, but filled with something else. Something unspoken. Then, Reo gently pulls back just enough to see your face, he brushes your hair out of your face and gazes at you a little too long. “Reo” You say softly again

“Hmm?”

“I think the bell rang already”

WN: emotional talk, friendship lost, no smut (ik the title is supposed to be freaky but no freak)

Naomi stumbled upon Yuna’s desk the moment the bell rang, her usual nosy, insufferable self on full display. Gorgeous, smart, kind, and, of course, rich—yet somehow, she managed to be as obvious as ever.

“So… Yuna,” she drawled, tilting her head with feigned innocence. “Did Y/N like Reo?”

Yuna barely blinked. “No. Do you like him?”

Naomi let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Heh, well…” The girls around them giggled, feet shuffling in anticipation. Everyone knew what was coming next.

“I mean, we practically grew up together and everything,” she continued, voice laced with a sickly sweetness. “But I… I guess I can’t really like him anymore since he has a girlfriend, right?”

Yuna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Maybe if Naomi got bangs, she’d be a perfect Lila Rossi knockoff.

“I was just curious,” Naomi added, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t know Y/N had a thing for him at all. It’s so… sudden.”

A dramatic sigh escaped her lips, poisoning the air with artificial sorrow. “I just thought Reo and I had something special,” she murmured, voice trembling just enough to sell the act.

Right on cue, the girls around her swarmed with words of comfort, clinging to her faux distress. Yuna, however, kept her hands to herself.

She knew.

She knew Naomi’s perfect-girl act, her fake sweetness, the way she wove a flawless love story with Reo like it was destiny. She also knew that Naomi was planning something—something that involved you.

Yet, here she was. Being her ‘friend.’

It wasn’t like her at all. But then again, lately, nothing felt real. Not Naomi. Not Reo. Not herself,

not even you. Everything was a lie.

He’s frying your brain, you figured that he was a yapper and such but WOW did you not expect this. Maybe if you just close your eyes—

“Y/n! Are you trying to sleep? I’m still talking to you.”

“Yeah, no, you’re sending extra epic echolocation straight into my ears,” you grumble.

Reo only grins, completely unfazed. “Do you have a favorite chocolate? Or did you like the ones I got you last time? Are you allergic to anything?”

“Peanut butter.”

“Wait—really?”

“I don’t know.”

His brows furrow. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

You groan, turning to the only person who might save you. “Nagi, take your boyfriend or something.”

“eh?…I thought he was your boyfriend,” Nagi mumbles, barely looking up from his phone.

Reo huffs, undeterred. “Come on, why won’t you tell me anything?”

“Because if I do, you’ll buy some overpriced $1000 junk like you did for me and my mom earlier. No more questions, I already answered enough.” You drop your head back down, finally able to close your eyes for a whole second—

“Do you have a favorite animal?”

“Reo.”

“My love, you’re hurting me.” Reo pouts, acting heartbroken

Lifting your head, you meet his gaze, his violet eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What if I get to know more about you instead?”

Reo grins. “Alright. I play the guitar, I play soccer, I speak multiple languages, and—”

“I meant know you. Not the version you project to everyone else.” Your voice lowers slightly. “I hated that version of you anyway.”

He raises a brow, amused. “So… are you saying you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, Barney.”

An offended scoff escapes Reo’s lips as he clutches his chest dramatically. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Look at you, purple head.” You gesture vaguely at his hair, but the longer you stare at him, the more a strange guilt settles in your chest. It creeps in like thorns growing on the stem of a ripe red rose—unseen at first, but impossible to ignore.

A sigh escapes your lips before you ask, softer this time, “What do you actually like? Not what you show off to others—what do you really like? Or hate? Your friends? Your favorite flowers?”

Reo pauses, tilting his head in thought. Seconds tick by. Thirty. Forty. A whole minute.

Finally, he exhales, a small frown tugging at his lips. “…I don’t know.”

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet admission. But you get it. His whole life has been a performance, shaped by expectations, by a lie he never really chose.

“Well,” you murmur, leaning forward just a bit. “Don’t you like soccer? Tell me about it.”

“Here, first edition by way.” Reo’s delicate hands extend a book toward you. One that you’ve been dying to read but never could find it but there it was. Just another item placed around in the 50,000 book—or maybe more, library in the Mikage house— or whatever that building was. How is that a house?

You hesitantly take hold of the book, you’re still spellbound to see it in person, right in front of your two eyes. A star so bright, and full of glitter yet this time it wasn’t out of your hand’s reach. “Is this the only thing you got me?”

“Did you want more?” Reo’s eye light up

“No. You better not have gotten more.”

The hand tucked behind his back slowly reaches out to expose a small keychain and before he could open his mouth in protest you stop him, “ah- no. Why did you even get that?”

“I just..saw it at the store and it reminded me of you.”

“I told you to stop spending things for me, this relationship isn’t even…real” You say softly, avoiding your gaze as you rub the back of your neck

“Well, yes. But our friendship isn’t right?”

It takes a good moment before youre able to gaze into his eyes and respond “It isn’t”

“Oh— and uh dinner with my parents this Friday.” His subject change wasn’t the thing that surprised, it was the fact that it was tomorrow!

“What— wait you didn’t tell me it was this week, I thought we started the Friday dinners next week!”

A chuckle. Just a nervous childish chuckle paired with a cute smile was all you received from Reo as he shy's away. He knew this would make you angry, you weren’t exactly ready to meet one of the richest families on Earth. “Well… They actually found out before I could tell them and then they just arranged to meet you Friday— or tomorrow I guess”

“Reo! I don’t even know what to wear! Have you seen my wardrobe? It’s not Mikage fancy like”

“I like your wardrobe” His happy little smile paved the way through your stress

“But Reo-” His hand softly brushes through yours in reassurance.

“Y/n, I already arranged everything for you. I’ll pick you up at 6 after school, and if you want I’ll pick something out for you to wear. You just need to sit and look pretty and eat. I’m sure the look pretty part is easy for you though.”

The last sigh allowed you to finally breathe normally, stress out the window as Reo continue to rub the sides of your shoulders and soft knuckles. His touch ever so hazy, a kiss of gentle, and melodic “I have practice today so…” Reo stopped mid-thought, gaze lingered, unreadable. He wanted to kiss your cheek a nice goodbye before heading off but he stilled. “I’ll see you tomorrow” His figure began to fade.

As Reo left, there was no point in staying at school any longer. With a sigh, you picked up your feet and headed toward the gates. The sun dimmed down, hueing it’s lucent colors on your radiant skin. Warm, you felt. Just from the touch of it’s lingering kiss, a gift from the Sun was like a gift from Reo. But the moment passed to soon, now it seemed like the dark night had conquered the sky but it didn’t. It was just Yuna.

She looked at you for moment till she started walking, speeding up to avoid you at all cost. “Wait—” it slipped out of your mouth, you’re desprate, hungry, starving—don’t leave. please

She stopped in her tracks the moment she heard your voice, her head turning back to look at you, but her eyes didn’t carry the same look she use to give you.

“I never really liked Nagi…” You try to reason, you could even break down on your knees, bruise it as it may— please, please forgive me.

“Ok..” The shatter on your heart couldn’t get any worse, you knew how angry she was. But did she know how miserable you are. How wretched of the nothing you are without her?

“Yuna—”

“Why are you dating him? Reo. You barely even talked to him, and Naomi and him are soon to be lovers one day.”

“He’s…gracious and caring”

“Is that just another labyrinth lie”

“What— no no it isn’t”

“You’re all a bunch of liars.” Naomi and her personality? Fake. Your and Reo’s relationship, a facade. Her head look down at her feet, avoiding your heavyhearted gaze. One look into your eyes and she’ll give in.

“I don’t want to talk you anymore” And with that, makes Yuna the biggest liar. She loved to talk to you right now. About how she’s having trouble understanding the math assignment, or the new boy on the streets, the spider she saw in the shower, the haircut she’s been wanting to get, but mostly just talk to you. Be with you. But her body takes control of it’s own and wanders away from the very one she die for.

Arriving home after that was nothing more than depressing, all this time you thought Yuna was avoiding you but it hit you the moment you saw her. You were the one avoiding everything, using Reo as a way to function with Yuna gone, pretending like there weren’t nasty gossip about you and Reo and now you have to meet your fake-boyfriend’s parents. Your life is a mess. You wipe away the small tear dripping down your cheek once you heard the door creak open, your mom entered. Gently setting herself next to you. “Is something wrong?”

“No…well…yeah?”

“Is it about your boyfriend? Is he treating you wrong”

You softly chuckle, her motherly humor filling the room’s warmth. Engulfing you with love

“Kinda. Tomorrow I have to go to dinner with his parents.”

“Oh…yeah… I wanted to talk to you about that.” Your mother grew in a deep breath. “I know that the choices I did in my past wasn’t…necessarily good and it can effect you gravely, but never let anyone talk you down on that. You are the greatest gift I can have.” She kiss you on the head, her hand wraps around yours “He must really like you if he’s willing to face the consequences. You know, when I went to school with his parents, they were such bitches.”

“Mom!”

“I know, I know—one dollar in the cussing jar.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But I meant it. If there’s anything bothering you, you’d tell me, right?”

You nod, offering a small smile as she leaves the room.

But the truth is—he wasn’t the problem at all. If anything, he was the reason you were still here, still happy. The weight in your chest wasn’t because of him. It was because of her.

Yuna.

The mess you made, the way things fell apart between you two—it haunted you. How could you ever forgive yourself for what happened? For the hurt you caused?

After she left, it was like the world lost its color. You spent a week drowning in your own thoughts, sinking deeper into something you couldn’t quite escape. The sky stayed gray no matter how many times you looked up, hoping for a change.

But then, when you lifted your head again, it wasn’t Yuna standing there.

It was Reo.

And for the first time in a long while, the sky didn’t seem so gray.

The next morning you’re greeted with a limo, again. Reo exits the car to say hi, but his great smile was already good enough to fill you with warmth. He almost looked like Yuna in a slight moment. “Y/n! Good morning.” He moves to the side to let you in first but quickly stops you, “Are you sure you can come to school, you look sick.” He starts to worry, hands feeling your forehead for any high temperatures, he’s looking around you if any bones or muscles are sore, or if you’re limping. “It’s okay, I’m not sick.” You reassure him, a small laughter leaves your lips as you see him worried so quickly

”Your eyes are really swollen, are you sure?’ He leaned in more close, more worried. His breath making whole contact on the hair on your skin.

“Uh— yeah you know I just got makeup in my eye so…” You try to excuse yourself and look away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“…Were you crying? Was it because of me? If you don’t want to see my parents today I’ll tell them no.”

“No it’s not that… um lets just get in the car and head to school first.” Before you could slip into the limo, his hand lands on your shoulder

“You can tell me if anything is wrong, you’re my friend y/n”

You sigh with a soft smile “Stop worrying and let’s go. We’re gonna be late”

“Late— Oh shoot we need to hurry!”

“You go ahead Nagi, we’ll meet you.” Unhurried, Reo insists his other duo to go first which was quite obvious to you what his intentions was. His heel quickly turns to face you fully, still carrying that angelic smile. “Soo…” He started off slowly, building, rhyming into your ease, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You both start walking towards the school, students in their uniforms, some messy, some neat, some— are something, pass by as you walk with your ‘boyfriend’ and to your measure girls and boys gather around to admire Reo Mikage and the flowers that following behind him as he walks. “Yeah…—well, I don’t know maybe.” Your breath hitched just for a second before saying her name, it felt impossible to say. It felt like you didn’t deserve to say her name for how horrible you were to her. You did lie to her, and you still are by playing around with the Mikage boy. “I spoke to Yuna yesterday.” Your voice steady, soft, and low. Eyes on the ground, avoidant on everything around you even the pink petals following on your shoulders and the thins between your hair. You couldn’t see but Reo’s attention shifted all upon you, and only you.

“Oh…” Reo softly caresses the side of your shoulder “I know it seems hard…I mean you’re going to meet my parents today, and you’re arguing with Yuna, but you’re never alone. You have your mom, whose nice and always seems like the type to fight for you. And you have….me. So cry or don’t cry, whatever happens from now on. I’m here.” You crane your neck up, embracing all the details of his beauty. He looked more dreamy up close. The soft pads of his thumb caress your dumpling cheek, wiping away your tear. You start to tear up even more, your nose speeding it’s way to breathe. Reo starts to panic, his eyes widen in fear Did I say something wrong?!—Was I too insensitive? Gah, I’m so stupid!

“Y—y/n! Is—is it because of me? I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry—” He quickly hugs you, comforting your head in his chest as you sob. His hand swaying back and forth in the locks of your hair. His touch smooth and caring. His other arm wrapped around you, feeling evermore secure then ever. “I’m sorry…”

Oh, and let’s not forget the crowd. Yeah, they’re still here—watching, wide-eyed, as you and Reo share what might just be the most intimate moment of your life. Their gasps are barely audible, breaths hitched in awe, eyes locked onto the quiet intimacy unfolding in the middle of the field. The world around you feels like it’s slowing down, wrapped in the warmth of his touch, his words, him. And yet, the weight in your chest lingers.

The longest seven minutes of your life. That’s how it felt—wrapped in Reo’s warm embrace, his hand smoothing over your hair as if trying to silence every unspoken fear inside you. Your breath steadies, the tear-stained ache in your chest easing, and yet… he doesn’t let go. Even with the crowd long gone, leaving only the two of you beneath the gentle breeze of the afternoon, he still holds you. "Reo…” Your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to make him straighten, body instantly attentive, as if ready to spring into action at your every word. You hear the nervous gulp in his throat. "Yes?" His response is soft, cautious. You take a breath. "Thank you. Sorry I’ve been a whole mess lately." Reo scoffs playfully, his grip around you not loosening. "It’s no problem," he mumbles, barely above a whisper, like he’s scared his words might make you crumble again. For a moment, there’s only silence—comfortable, but filled with something else. Something unspoken. Then, Reo gently pulls back just enough to see your face, he brushes your hair out of your face and gazes at you a little too long. “Reo” You say softly again

“Hmm?”

“I think the bell rang already”

“Wh—What already!? We have to hurry before they take attendance”

[hotchnerrtg]

Sir A.H

Summary: You find yourself drawn to Hotch in ways you can’t ignore , as your connection deepens together he finds him self drawn to you as well .

Fem!reader BAU x Aaron Hotchner

Content | Pure fluff vulnerability comfort

Content warnings | use of [your name] vulnerability confession heated moment

Word count | 1.K

Notes are at the button below

You couldn’t stop thinking about him for the past couple of hours …

There was something about him. Something that completely captivated you, even when you knew you should be concentrating on the case. It wasn’t just his ability to command attention in a room, though that was powerful in itself. It was his sheer confidence when he stood up to give a briefing. His posture, his tone. The way his presence seemed to settle over everyone else, leaving no room for doubt.

But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he moved. When he folded his arms across his chest, you swore it was overpowering. The way his body language demanded respect and attention without saying a word. It was... intimidating.

And that’s when it hit you—the reason you couldn’t think straight. You were so caught up in him, so caught up in the way he seemed to affect you without even trying. Your thoughts were a mess every time he walked into the room, and you hated how easily he commanded your attention.

He was the kind of man who could make you feel small, and yet you didn’t mind. It was all-consuming.

It happened again—your eyes flicked toward him as he stood in front of the team, giving directions for the next step in the investigation. His voice was steady, unwavering, and there was an authority in it that made your heart skip a beat.

"Are you okay?" Emily’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You hadn’t realized how hard you were staring at Hotch.

You quickly nodded, trying to compose yourself. But deep down, you knew you had to get a grip.

When the briefing ended, you found yourself lingering at the back of the room, hoping to avoid direct interaction. But, of course, Hotch noticed.

"Is there something you need, [Y/N]?" His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying edge that made your heart race.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath. "No, sir," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt your face flush, knowing you couldn’t even make eye contact.

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze unwavering. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the air in the room seemed to thicken.

"Good. Just make sure you’re ready for the next part of the case," he said in a low, commanding tone before starting to walk away.

You stood frozen for a moment, then, before you could stop yourself, you found your voice.

"W-Wait, sir..." you called out.

He paused and turned around slowly. "Yes?" His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that told you he wasn’t going anywhere until you spoke.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your gaze fell to the ground, unsure of how to express what was on your mind. "There is something..." you murmured.

Hotch remained silent, waiting.

"Do you want to talk in my office?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.

"Umm, here is fine," you said quickly, not trusting yourself to move. Your hands trembled slightly, and you glanced up at him, your breath shallow.

He stepped closer, and you swore you could feel the tension between you as he closed the door behind him, trapping the two of you in the room.

"Go on," he said, his tone still authoritative, though there was a hint of curiosity now.

You hesitated for a moment before your voice barely reached him. "It’s you..." you started. You felt the words get caught in your throat. "You asked if I needed something… it’s you I need." Your voice was soft, almost fragile, and you looked away again, embarrassed by your admission.

Hotch didn’t speak right away. He just watched you closely, his gaze never leaving your face.

"I don’t know how to explain it, sir," you continued, your words more hesitant now, but the truth was spilling out, despite yourself. "I just... don’t know what to do with it."

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The silence between you stretched, heavy and thick, before he finally spoke.

"Tell me," he said, his voice lower now, steady as always, but there was something different in it, something softer. "What is it that you need, [Y/N]?"

Your heart hammered against your chest as you looked at him, struggling to find the right words. "I... I need your touch," you whispered. "I need your body close to me, sir." You shook your head, as if trying to push the words back in. "But that's probably a bad idea, right?"

The weight of the words hung in the air, and you could feel the tension grow even thicker.

"I can’t stop thinking about your arms around me," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "I never do this. Never let my guard down, sir, but you... you’re just so intimidating. I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I’m sorry," you added quickly, realizing how vulnerable you sounded. "I can take it all back... I shouldn't have said anything."

You turned to walk away, but before you could reach the door, Hotch stepped forward, his hand shooting out to grasp your arm, holding you in place.

"No," he said, his voice firm, but the look in his eyes was unreadable. "You don’t get to walk away from this. Not until we talk."

His grip was gentle, but there was an undeniable authority in it. You had nowhere to go.

"Talk, sir?" you managed, your voice trembling.

"Please," he murmured, guiding his hand down your arm slowly, sending a shiver through you. His proximity was overwhelming. Your heart was racing as he moved even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Call me Hotch. Especially if you're into me."

You swallowed hard, your head spinning as his words sunk in.

"Especially?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, his voice low, almost a command.

You tried to step back, but his grip tightened slightly on your arm, keeping you close to him. The intensity between you both was unbearable, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

"I can’t," you breathed. "I can’t call you that, sir."

"Why?" His voice was sharp, but there was a touch of curiosity now, and you felt him move even closer. He was so close that you could feel the tension in the air between you.

"Because... sir." You tried to pull away, but his gaze held you captive.

"No," he said softly but firmly. "I want to know why."

You tried to catch your breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Saying your name... it does something to me. If I say your name, I won’t be able to stop myself from doing what comes next." You felt your face burn with embarrassment. "I don’t know what to do, Sir.”

There was a long pause, and his eyes searched yours, deep and intense.

"Then don’t stop," he said quietly. "Let’s see where this goes."

You swallowed hard, the words escaping before you could stop them. "Do you really want to go down that road with me, sir?"

Hotch’s eyes never left yours as his fingers lightly brushed your arm. The intensity between you both grew even more, and the air around you seemed charged with anticipation. "I can’t think straight right now," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I want to grab onto your shirt right now, sir," you breathed, barely able to control yourself, your heart hammering in your chest. "And I—" You stopped, the reality of your words dawning on you. "We can’t," you muttered, stepping back, trying to break the tension. "I just... I don’t know what’s gotten into me."

"Why are you so intimidating?" you whispered, your voice shaky. "Why are you so consuming? Why do you make me want you in a way I know I can’t have you?"

Hotch’s gaze softened, his hand gently cupping your chin to guide your face back to his. His eyes were intense, but they held no judgment. "Tell me I’m a fool for wanting you, sir," you whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Tell me to walk away."

His thumb brushed your skin, and he shook his head slowly. "I can’t do that," he said quietly, his voice barely a breath. "I can’t tell you to walk away."

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even realize how your hands had found their way to the fabric of his shirt—his white button-up shirt, the tie a little askew from the stress of the case. Your fingers traced the material, feeling the warmth of him just inches away. His eyes dropped to meet yours, his breath shallow as he seemed to struggle to keep his composure.

"We don’t have enough time. We’ve gotta be on the jet in five," Hotch said, his voice strained, trying to clear his throat.

But you didn’t move away. Instead, you guided your hands around his chest, pulling him closer.

"Please, Hotch," you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke his name. That was all it took. His resolve cracked.

Without another word, he pulled you into a hug—the hug you’d wanted. The way you wanted to be in his arms the entire time. The kind of hug that made everything feel better, the kind that made you forget about everything else. The embrace was warm, comforting, and just a little more intimate than you’d ever imagined.

"I—I’m into you, Hotchner," you admitted softly, your breath shaky. "And I don’t think this is going to go away anytime soon," you confessed, the words spilling from your lips as your heart raced in your chest. "Please... don’t let me go."

He held you tighter, and the sound of your name on your lips made his heart skip a beat. He loved hearing it, loved the way it felt coming from you. He wanted to kiss you, he really did, but he didn’t. He just kept his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

"We’ve gotta get ready to head to the jet," he said after a moment, his voice thick with restraint. "But I’m not going anywhere, I promise."

@hoe4hotchner

@hotchs-big-hands

@mggslover

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@kiwriteswords

I would l love your guys thoughts on this . Still learning to write Hotch you guys are so inspiring I wanna get better at writing. Hope you guys enjoy this one . Happy v-day .

Love Kris 💌💕

[sun-undone]

more hbh thoughts

i desperately need to know who did ant’s halloween makeup, his glittery highlight in 2x06, and his hair for formal like ??????? is my guy super artistic???? do he and spider pre together and spider is always recruited to help his queer bestie with his Look???? i require answers

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[feralsunflowerchild-deactivated]

.

[highdefhoetry]

in his hands.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, hand kink, cnc-ish, fingering, G-spot stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, verbal teasing, praise, use of term "babygirl", aftercare, some mild possessiveness, caleb is a meaniehead

word count: 1760

Caleb sits across the table from you, completely oblivious to your stolen glances as he twirls the pen between his fingers. He follows a strange pattern where he spins it once, twice, then lays the tip back onto the blank sheet of paper in front of him. His fingers tap, tap, tap on the edge, clicking the pen open and closed. The black beads on his bracelet clink against each other with every movement, the perfect accessory to the thick ring on his index finger. You find yourself unable to look away, despite knowing what would happen if you were noticed.

You’ve always liked his hands. To you they were perfect, lovely to look at and even better to hold. The length of his fingers. The large size of his palm. The chapped skin on his knuckles. The warmth you felt whenever thw two of you held hands. They were a comforting familiarity, one part of him that remained unchanged yet had grown with him as he matured.

You understood why he still called you pipsqueak. With palms pressed against one another, yours still looked tiny compared to his.

While you're busy daydreaming, he plays with his pen a few more times, seemingly lost in thought, before he suddenly looks up and meets your eyes. When he notices you staring back, a little smirk creeps up his face, one you know will be followed by playful teasing. You quickly turn your head away.

You’ve been caught. And when you glance back at him and see the cocky look in his eye, you know that he’s not going to let it go until he’s teased you to hell and back.

“What’s up, pipsqueak?” he teases. “See somethin’ you like?”

You shake your head and bury your face back into your work, trying to ignore his quiet chuckles. 

“Don’t get all shy now,” he cocks his head to one side to better see your face, seeking out the flustered expression you’re trying so desperately to hide. “Fess up. Why were you starin’ at me?”

You stay silent, mumbling some half-assed excuse about not being able to focus. He laughs at your poor attempt to change the subject. A sudden warmth covers your hand, followed by soft strokes from calloused fingertips. When you turn your face away to hide the heat rising in your cheeks, he takes your hand and holds it gently.

“Come on, now. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He rubs his thumb across your knuckles, slipping it in the spaces between each finger. You eventually succumb to his gentle touch, intertwining your fingers in his. You toy with the ring on his index finger, poke at the black beads on his bracelet, trace the patches of flushed red on his knuckles that contrasts the paleness of his skin. You stroke each one with your thumb and index finger, feeling the dry, cracked skin beneath your hands.

A good deal of time passes before you finally snap out of it. When you meet Caleb’s gaze once again, you find him grinning victoriously, as if he’s just won some unspoken contest you never agreed to enter.

“You…!” is all you manage to stutter out.

“Me?” he smiles innocently. “What did I do?”

“...”

He lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a small peck in an attempt to softly coax you out of your shell. It makes you melt from the inside out, but still, you refuse to admit defeat. He watches you carefully for a few more seconds, giving you one last chance to come clean. When you don’t, he gets up from his seat across the table and circles around to your side. Before you can get a word of protest out, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the soft comforter, trapping you in place with both hands at either side of your body. You try struggling, but he simply pins you down by straddling your waist, making it so that all you can do is wriggle slightly beneath him. He leers down at you with a wild, uncouth grin, like a wild beast about to consume its prey. 

The sweet, honey-eyed Caleb is gone. You realize a little too late that you are totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

“I won’t let you run away, from this” he growls, with one hand on your thigh and the other gripping your arm, holding you firmly in place.

“Caleb…!”

“I saw you staring at my hands,” he gives your thigh a squeeze, smirking when he hears your muted squeal. “What do you want me to do with them? Hmm?”

You put up a half-assed fight, pretending to hate how he’s cornered you despite your growing wetness. He quickly picks up on this after slipping his hand under your panties. His fingertips brush against the entrance of your hole, circling it for a moment before sliding towards your swollen bud. He smiles when you let out a small moan.

“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

His voice is gentle and low, but his touch is firm. He rubs your clit in a slow, deliberate motion, with just enough pressure to build you up but not enough to push you over. You arch your back and press your mound further into his palm, begging him without words. 

“Say it,” he leans forward, mumbling in your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You start to whine, unable to handle the way he’s teasing you. He’s being extra mean tonight, barely flicking your throbbing bud and ignoring the attempts you’re making to guide his fingers into your hole. You know he won’t comply until you give him what he wants. Which is the last thing you want to do.

“Mmm… Caleb…” you whimper cutely, hoping to appeal to his sense of mercy. He chuckles darkly, his once friendly eyes filled with sadistic glee.

“What are the magic words?”

“Nghhh… Caleb, please!”

“Please, what? I’m pleasing you right now, aren’t I?” 

He sticks one finger into your pussy, just for a moment. When he pulls it out, he slaps your mound hard just to throw you off. The tiny, surprised shriek you let out is met with a mean-spirited laugh. 

“Okay!!” You cry out, unable to hold back any longer. “Finger me, please!”

“Yeah? You want my hands inside you?”

“Yes! I want them inside me, please…”

A wicked grin stretches across his face as he savors his victory. Satisfied with your pathetic pleas, he finally yanks down your panties and gives you what you want.

First one finger pushes itself into your hole. He pumps it in and out, making sure to caress that sweet, sweet spot inside of your walls. You’re singing like a bird within seconds. Another finger is added, easing in gently so as not to hurt you. He finds his rhythm and uses your moans as his guide, focusing on your G-spot to build you up to the biggest orgasm possible. He presses his thumb against your clit, massaging it in tandem with his rapid fingering, and soon you’re squirting all over his hand. He pulls out momentarily to lick his fingers, savoring the taste of you on his skin. His amethyst eyes lock onto yours, feasting on the desperation permeating your gaze. Distracted, you cry out when he shoves his fingers back inside.

This time, he’s a bit more forceful. That first little orgasm was just a warm up. When he gets like this, one is never enough, and he won’t stop until he’s brought you to tears. With his swift fingers curled inside you, he pumps in and out at such a fast pace that you begin to see stars. That one little spot inside of you becomes his target, a button he presses over and over again until you reach climax once again. The second time is much more intense than the first; you can feel the soaking wet bed sheets underneath you, along with the slick fluid covering his fingers. 

Still not enough. He wants more.

He fingerfucks you again and again, forcing out countless orgasms that shoot through your body like hot lightning bolts. Your voice starts to feel hoarse from the screaming and shrieking, sounds that only seem to spur him on. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, having given up on keeping track long after the third or fourth. And Caleb shows no signs of stopping. 

He whispers his affection into your ear while he plays with your pussy, telling you how beautiful you look as he makes a mess of you and how lovely your voice sounds when you make those cute noises for him. He fills your head with sweet praise, his words worshipping your form and beauty, weakening you with every syllable.

“That’s it,” he coos while coaxing the last orgasm from you. “That look on your face… that’s mine. Only make that face for me.”

You mumble something in agreement, barely able to form coherent words as you cum one more time. Inexplicable pleasure ripples through your body, setting ablaze every last nerve ending from head to toe. You go limp, covered in sweat and completely worn out from his torment. Caleb pulls out his fingers, licks your fluids off his skin one last time before he switches gears. He grabs a towel from the dresser and gently pats your face dry, pushing some of your tangled hair away from your face. That crazed look in his eyes is now gone, and once again he admires you with utmost affection. He asks if you need water, if you want a warm blanket, if you wanted to be held or left alone. You say yes to the first two, and cling to him when he asks the third. 

After you finish drinking a full glass of water, he wraps you up in the warmest blanket on the bed and cuddles up next to you, playing with your hair in a soothing, gentle manner.

“Soooo,” the teasing tone returns to his voice. “When were you gonna tell me you had a thing for my hands?"

You pout at him, feigning annoyance, but he just laughs and hugs you tighter. 

“I’m definitely going to use this against you, by the way.”

You don’t have the energy to argue back. Exhausted, your heavy eyelids shutter closed, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber, which Caleb’s arms still wrapped snugly around you.

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting to silently listen to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”