#obsessed with this style profile

[tanasha-not-yet]

every drawing is just a poster to put my name on

[alicenpai]

emilico :) super rough + small 5 min style test

been thinking of changing my art style a bit more lately to have more texture + a bit simpler bc all of my previous illustrations were taking too long. the timeline for my most recent drawings was like, nov-jan: 4 zine drawings over the course of 3 months. which burnt me out so bad.. it was too smooth and too anime for my liking.. then nothing until i did that pandora hearts illust in may. which also was exhausting! it's now 2 months later and i gotta attempt at least 1 or 2 new drawings for otakuthon. and i do not wish to have burnout again, so i really need to change up my approach to art :'))))

[amityandeir]

The first thing I see after coming home from work...

Insane

Stunning

Indescribable

Gorgeous

Admin is trying to kill me I think

[dakusan]

BDSM Profiles

stray kids ot8 x reader | eight men. one mission: ruin you beautifully.

🖤 synopsis: Eight profiles. Eight archetypes. One shared goal: your complete, consensual destruction. What began as a playful exploration of kinks spiraled into a curated BDSM character study of Stray Kids—each rendered with precision, filth, and psychological flair. You’re not just being fucked. You’re being understood.

💌a/n: you all already knew i was going to hell. this is just the velvet rope section. so… this spiraled. violently. what started as “hahaha chan’s kink profile” turned into a full BDSM dossier series featuring eight men who are clearly out to ruin us delicately. inspired by this post I wrote , i decided to make it worse. better? worse. let’s say both. i hope you enjoy this descent into the beautiful, depraved psyches of these chaotic domcore men. i wrote it so you’d feel ruined and cherished. just like they’d want. p.s. if you see this on your dash at 2am, drink water. and stretch. they'd want you hydrated. p.p.s. if you send me your bias... i might tell you how he’d destroy you personally. for science. 🕯️ p.p.p.s. reblogs = aftercare. likes are foreplay. do the right thing.

⚠️warnings: 18+ ONLY (MDNI) — explicit BDSM themes, kink content (degradation, overstimulation, bondage, sadism, praise, fear kink, aftercare, etc.), dom/sub dynamics, filthy language, emotional intensity, and possessive behavior — all fictional and consensual.

🎶now playing: "Criminal" – Taemin

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

Bang Chan // 방찬

Dominant | Caregiver | Primal (Dom) Core Archetype: Daddy Dom ⟡ Soft Dom ⟡ Service Top Vibe: “You’re mine, and I’ll prove it slowly.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Daddy kink — You don’t call him Daddy for fun. You do it because his voice drops an octave and your legs give out when you do. Rules. Rewards. Discipline that sounds like worship.

Overstimulation — He’ll edge you until you’re sobbing. Then make you cum until you’re begging him to stop. And he still won’t.

Praise + Degradation — “Such a good girl… even when you’re dripping all over Daddy’s cock like a filthy little thing.”

Mirror play — Makes you watch. Makes you see what you do to him. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how desperate you get for me.”

Bondage — Silk ties. Leather cuffs. His belt. His fucking voice is a restraint.

Obsession kink — He won’t admit it out loud. But the way he tracks your every breath? You’re not just his. You’re his religion.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Emotional dominance — He reads you like a book mid-scene. “You’re not saying anything, angel. Color?”

Controlled cruelty — He’ll ruin you so slowly it feels like mercy. Then smile when you break.

Service-focused — Yes, he’s in charge. But your pleasure is the mission. Even when he’s wrecking you, he’s cataloguing what makes you melt.

Off-scene control — He won’t let you text your ex. He will pick your dress. He does feed you aftercare snacks like you’re his beloved brat.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Bent over the studio desk. Knees on the mirror floor. Legs over his shoulders while he praises you through tears.

Dirty talk level: 8/10 – Degrading Devotion

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take Daddy’s cock like a good little mess.” “You said ruin you. So don’t cry now.” “Look at you. Fucked dumb and still begging. Say thank you.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Gold-standard. Warm towels. Gentle hands. Voice dipped in honey.

“You did so well for me, baby. Let me hold you.”

Lee Know // 리노

Sadist | Brat Tamer | Primal (Dom) | Owner Core Archetype: Elegant Sadist ⟡ Possessive Dom ⟡ Pet Play Daddy Vibe: “You're mine. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Brat taming — He lives for the defiance in your eyes right before he breaks you. You roll your eyes? You’re face-down, ass up, and not walking tomorrow.

Impact play — Leather belt. Open palm. Riding crop. He doesn’t just leave marks—he signs his name in bruises.

Orgasm denial — “Did I say you could cum?” / “Cry about it, kitten.”

Pet play (dom side) — You’re his kitten. He’ll collar you. Make you beg prettily or not at all.

Sadism + precision — Pain with a purpose. Every slap, choke, bite is calculated. He’s not cruel by accident—he’s an artist.

Choking kink — One hand wrapped tight around your throat, the other tracing your trembling lips. “Breathe, baby. You’ll need it.”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Quiet, unshakable authority — No raised voice. Just narrowed eyes, calm hands, and complete ruin.

Owner dynamic — He owns your time, your pleasure, your body. You misbehave? He retrains you. You obey? He rewards filthily.

Degrading praise — “Such a pathetic little slut for me, huh? But mine.”

Control freak, but make it sexy — His rules apply outside the bedroom. That outfit? Approved by him. Your leash? In his coat pocket.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Collared and kneeling. Bent over with your leash tugged. Pinned against the mirror as he marks your throat with his teeth.

Dirty talk level: 9/10 – Velvet Ruin

“Keep crying. It makes your moans sound prettier.” “Say you’re mine. Say it while I ruin you.” “You’re my good little toy, even when you’re being bad.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Subtle but intentional. He won’t coo—he’ll clean you up, kiss your bruises, and tuck you into his hoodie with a quiet, “Told you not to act up, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t talk about how much he cares. He just shows it—in the way he pulls you into his lap, or brushes your hair off your sweat-damp forehead like it’s sacred.

Changbin // 창빈

Soft Dom | Primal (Dom) | Caregiver | Service Top Core Archetype: Devoted Dominant ⟡ Power Top with a Heart ⟡ Strength-as-Love Dom Vibe: “I’ll ruin you gently. But you’ll never forget how safe it felt.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Strength kink — Tosses you like you weigh nothing. Pins you down, holds your wrists with one hand, fucks you deep while moaning like you’re the one in control.

Praise kink (extreme) — You’ll cum from his words alone. “So good for me, baby. Look at you. Look how well you take me.”

Overstimulation + tears kink — You cry? He twitches. You sob? He praises harder. You break? He holds you.

Body worship — He kisses every inch of you like he’s memorizing your skin. Like you’re the altar, and he’s kneeling to serve.

Breath play + control — Gentle but firm. His hand on your throat doesn’t scare—it steadies.

Whimper kink — Your little sounds make him feral. He’ll go slower just to hear more. Then ruin you harder when you beg.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Service Dom disguised as a primal top — He’s giving "Yes, I’m pounding you into the mattress, but I’m doing it for you, angel."

Emotionally invested dominance — The eye contact? The moaned affirmations? He means every word.

Possessive but soft — He doesn’t growl unless someone touches what’s his. Otherwise, he’s wrecking you while telling you how proud he is.

💦 FILTHY FAVOURITES

Positions: Against the wall. Held in his lap. Pinned with both legs over his shoulders as he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

Dirty talk level: 8/10 – Degrading Devotion

“That’s it, baby. Cry for me. So good… so fucking perfect.” “You were made for me, weren’t you? Look at this. You’re trembling, but you’re still taking all of me.” “Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of it—all of you.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Warm. Heavy. Gentle. He’ll carry you to bed, run you a bath if your legs can’t work, then pull you into his chest and kiss your hair like he didn’t just make you forget your name.

He whispers:

“You did so well, angel. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

Hyunjin // 현진

Soft Dom | Rope Top | Primal (Sensual) | Caregiver Core Archetype: Artistic Dominant ⟡ Poetic Power Exchange ⟡ Shibari Siren Vibe: “Let me ruin you slowly—beautifully—and then kiss every broken piece.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Shibari-adjacent bondage — He doesn’t just tie you up. He laces meaning into every knot. His silk scarf is a ribbon, a weapon, a promise.

Sensory play — Blindfolds. Tracing fingertips. Whispered filth so low it makes your spine arch. He builds tension like he’s painting with it.

Praise + degradation blend — “You’re such a desperate little thing… but so good for me, angel.” His voice never raises—but your pulse does.

Power exchange (calm control) — You obey not from fear, but from awe. His command is velvet-gloved and irresistible.

Oral fixation — Your mouth, your whimpers, your moans—he worships them all. But he’ll also fill that mouth when he wants you silent.

Marking kink — He paints your body in bruises and kisses both before and after. Art doesn’t just hang—it stains.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Slow, immersive dominance — His pace is agony. He draws it out until you ache for him. “You’ll thank me later,” he murmurs as you beg.

Silent control — One glance. One breathy command. You’re on your knees before you realize you moved.

Worship-as-destruction — He praises your pain. He kisses through your tears. He breaks you with devotion.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Tied and kneeling. Bound on the bed, legs parted, arms laced above you as he teases every inch. Back arched over a pillow as he takes his time.

Dirty talk level: 9/10 – Velvet Ruin

“You look divine like this—ruined, tied up, crying for me.” “So messy… so mine.” “Give yourself to me, sweetheart. All of you. I’ll handle the rest.” “Such a beautiful little slut.”

💌 AFTERCARE

A ritual. He unties every knot with purpose. Massages every mark he left. Cleans you slowly, lovingly. Holds your face in his palms like it’s priceless.

“You did so well. Still so beautiful. Let me take care of you now.”

He doesn’t detach after scenes—he sinks deeper into you. His care is soft, sensual, and sacred.

Han // 한

Switchy Dom | Brat | Exhibitionist | Degrader with a Praise Problem Core Archetype: Chaos Dom ⟡ Hyperverbal Power Bottom Energy ⟡ Clingy Corruptor Vibe: “You’re my dumb little slut… and my favorite person in the world.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Degradation kink — “Say it. Say what you are. Louder.” He calls you a cumslut while moaning like it’s a compliment.

Praise kink (panic edition) — Five seconds later: “Wait no you’re literally perfect and I love you.” The filth is real. The feelings? Also real.

Exhibitionism / public risk — Fingers under the table. Whispering filth in your ear during dinner. Gets hard watching you squirm in public.

Mutual corruption kink — He wants you just as desperate as him. Wants to make you a mess, and get ruined by you. You fall together.

Spit kink / facefucking — Obscene. Unhinged. Will make you gag and then kiss your forehead.

Hand-over-mouth kink — To tease you. To control you. To hear your muffled whimpers while he whispers: “Shhh… someone might hear.”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Filthy, clingy, unpredictable — He doms with both chaos and heart. You might get ruined with words, then cuddled like he missed you all day.

Talks. So. Much. — Teases, degrades, praises, begs while inside you. His voice is constant—like a vibrator in word form.

Emotionally devastating possession — He’ll say, “You’re mine,” like a command—then nuzzle into your neck like a lost puppy.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Face down, ass up, his hand over your mouth while he moans how tight you are. On his lap, while he whispers filth into your ear in public. Spread out on his bed while he talks you through your own breakdown.

Dirty talk level: 10/10 – Unholy Scriptures

“You like being my little fucktoy, huh? Can’t even think straight without me.” “So messy, so needy—god, I love you like this.” “You wanna be my dumb little slut forever? I’ll keep you right here. Ruined and dripping.” “Mine. All mine. Say it again.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Clingy. Emotional. Sticky with love. He wraps around you like a koala, kisses your cheeks, and mumbles shit like, “You still like me, right?” while brushing your hair back.

“You were so good. So, so good. Still want me to hold you?”

And he will. For hours.

Felix // 필릭스

Soft Dom | Caregiver | Sensual Primal (Dom) | Service Top Core Archetype: Angelic Dominant ⟡ Velvet Daddy ⟡ Praise-Filled Overstimulation Addict Vibe: “You’re so good for me, baby. Let me ruin you gently.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Praise kink (religious tier) — “You’re perfect, baby. So good. So beautiful.” He says it like he means it. Because he does.

Overstimulation kink — He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking. Then he kisses you and coos, “One more for me, sweetheart.”

Breeding kink (lowkey feral) — You think he’s soft until he growls, “Gotta fill you up, yeah? Want it dripping out of you.” Cue the whiplash.

Sensory control — Blindfolds, cockwarming, silk ribbons. He knows what your body responds to—and he uses it until you’re sobbing.

Touch obsession — Always holding you. Always. Hand on your waist, fingers on your neck, lips on your shoulder. Even when he’s pounding you? He’s still gentle with his hands.

Cockwarming + thigh riding — Wants to feel you constantly. Will murmur, “Just sit on it, love. Stay still. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

🔗 DOM STYLE

Soft-spoken, full control — He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. His words go straight to your core.

Emotional domming — You cry? He gets harder. Not from your tears—but from how much trust it takes to let him see them.

Velvet-daddy energy™ — He might not say it—but you feel it when he calls you his, edges you for hours, and kisses your forehead after he ruins you.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Riding his thigh while he whispers, “You can cum just like this, can’t you, love?” / On your back, blindfolded, arms tied in silk, as he fucks you slow and praises every sound you make.

Dirty talk level: 8.5/10 – Degrading Devotion with Angelic Edge

“So good for me, baby. Look how beautiful you are like this.” “You can take more, can’t you? Just one more. Be good for me.” “Mine. Every part of you. Say it.” “Want me to fill you up? Hm? That’s it, pretty thing—beg for it.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Unmatched. Cuddles you into his chest, wraps you in his hoodie, brushes the hair off your damp face, and murmurs endless praise into your skin.

“You did so well. So, so well for me.” “I’ve got you now, angel. Just breathe.”

He makes you feel not just safe—but wanted, in every possible way.

Seungmin // 승민

Hard Dom | Degrader | Master/Mistress | Brat Punisher | Emotional Sadist Core Archetype: Calculated Cold Dom ⟡ Verbal Sadist ⟡ Reluctant Caregiver with Control Issues Vibe: “You wanted this. Don’t start crying now.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Verbal humiliation — “Pathetic.” / “You think you deserve to be touched?” / “Keep moaning like that and maybe I’ll consider letting you cum.” He speaks like a knife. And he means it.

Orgasm denial + punishment — You came without permission? He edges you until you're begging, shaking, sobbing—and still doesn’t touch you.

Face slapping (light but sharp) — Not about pain—about control. “Focus. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Degradation kink — He’ll call you a toy. A whore. A mess. And he’ll say it like it’s your title.

Control kink (extreme) — You don’t get to speak unless he says. You don’t get to breathe fast unless he allows it. This isn’t just domination—it’s discipline.

Emotional sadism — He wants you ruined and grateful for it. “Say thank you,” he’ll mutter after he breaks you. And you will.

🔗 DOM STYLE

Cold and calculated — He’s not chaotic. He’s methodical. He watches your reactions like data and uses them to push you further.

Power-obsessed — Not for ego—for structure. He needs to control the scene, your pleasure, your thoughts. It’s how he stays sane.

Emotionally detached… until he’s not — He acts like it’s just sex. Just dominance. But his hands never falter during aftercare, and the look in his eyes when you're falling asleep? That’s not nothing.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: Forced to kneel. Bent over with your hands tied behind your back. Restrained and denied until you sob.

Dirty talk level: 10/10 – Unholy Scriptures (Ice Edition)

“You’re lucky I even want you like this.” “Keep whining. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” “Say you’re my toy. Say it, or you don’t get to cum.” “Beg properly. Or we start over.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Soft. Devastatingly so. He doesn’t speak much—just pulls you into his chest, covers you with the blanket (burrito style), and holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He’ll clean you up with quiet, precise movements, kiss the inside of your wrist like it’s instinct, and whisper only when he thinks you’re asleep:

“You did well. I’m proud of you.” And if you stir? He clears his throat and says, “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.” Because he will. He always is.

I.n // 아이엔

Soft-Spoken Power Dom | Sadistic Tease | Brat Tamer | Control Obsessed Core Archetype: Gentleman Sadist ⟡ Corruptor-in-Chief ⟡ Angel-Faced Devil Dom Vibe: “You can’t handle me. But I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

🖤 KINK SIGNATURES

Corruption kink — He lives for your firsts. First moan, first sob, first orgasm wrecked by him. “You’ve never done this before? Good. I’ll ruin you nicely.”

Brat taming (quiet but lethal) — You mouth off? He just smirks. Next thing you know, you’re tied down and begging. He doesn’t yell—he calculates.

Control kink (total) — He doesn’t just dominate—you become his choreography. Every angle, every movement, his choice.

Mocking degradation + obsession — “Look at you. Trying so hard to be good. It’s cute.” All said while kissing the tears off your cheeks.

Fear kink (light) — Not true fear—just that breath-catching, wide-eyed, holy-shit-what-did-he-just-say look he gets off on.

Chin-gripping + eye contact — He forces you to meet his eyes. "Don’t look away. I want to see every second of you breaking."

🔗 DOM STYLE

Silk-gloved sadism — He speaks soft. Touches slow. But everything he does is designed to destroy you. And you let him.

Emotionally loaded power play — He doesn’t say he loves you during scenes—but he looks at you like you’re sacred. And wrecks you like he can’t stand how much he cares.

Master of pacing — He can stretch one orgasm over an hour. And make you thank him for it.

💦 FILTHY FAVORITES

Positions: On your knees, chin tipped up by his fingers. Tied open on the bed as he circles like a predator. Bent over while he whispers filth directly into your ear.

Dirty talk level: 9.5/10 – Velvet Ruin with Sadistic Edge

“What’s wrong? You were so confident earlier.” “Keep shaking. It makes you feel tighter.” “You look beautiful like this—ruined, teary, mine.” “I don’t care if you beg. You don’t cum until I say.”

💌 AFTERCARE

Gentle. Reverent. Almost too tender—like he’s trying to make up for what he did to you. He wraps you in his arms, brushes your hair from your face, presses soft kisses to your skin. But he never apologizes.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you now.” His voice is the same one that destroyed you—except now it soothes. And somehow, that makes it even more dangerous.

[harrywavycurly]

Summary: You’ve lost your job and somewhere between online job searches and filling out countless applications you find yourself filling out a profile for “The Sugar Daddy Network” not thinking anything will really come from the silly website. But then almost three weeks later you’re standing inside a coffee shop ready to meet the man you’ve been messaging with for nearly two weeks only to be met with a man you’re very familiar with. Harry Styles. The international superstar who also just so happens to be your longtime bestfriend, you’re stunned to find out you’ve been messaging each other. Harry is willing to act as if nothing happened but you need a way to pay your bills while you look for a new job. Leaving the two of you to figure out how to keep the delicate balance that keeps friendship from turning into something else as you navigate this new dynamic with a man you’ve known for years.🌟

Trope: Friends to Lovers with a Sugar Daddy twist.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!reader

Story Type: Mini Series (4 parts)

Status: Completed 🌟

CW: Minor language, smut, slight angst (I’m a fluff girlie so not a lot of this I promise), jealousy, sugar daddy dynamics, slight obsessive behavior.

Tag List: Open (let me know if you’d like on it)

Extras: here (might contain spoilers)

Appealing

Rewards

Temporary

Pretend

Extras:

Loud

[valleydolli]

Only You | Chapter Two

Cw 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Chapter One… | Chapter Three…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3k

Luckily for Sukuna, his extremely compliant twin agreed to let him pick up his son from school, but the weekend couldn’t have been any slower for Sukuna.

Anything he did to occupy himself and keep you from creeping your way into his mind was a dud. He’s starting to think you’ve put some sort of spell on him. A minute couldn’t pass without you running through his twisted mind.

Any second he had to himself, he would spend it scrolling through your Instagram, saving some, if not all, pictures you’ve posted into a folder he has already made specially for you. Lucky for him, you post a lot, a bit too much. He doesn’t like that, you can't do that when you’re finally his. You just seem too… open.

Too trusting.

Too naïve.

See, you’ve tagged your apartment complex as a location, and you’re wearing a shirt with your work logo in another one of your posts. Your profiles are public for God's sake.

You’re incredibly naive.

You don’t know half of the disgusting, evil men out there. But it’s fine, he’s here now. Sukuna will always be there to keep you safe. He’s your protector. He’s your saviour. He was put on this earth for the sole purpose of protecting you, his angel.

You are his angel.

“What’re you doing to me?” Sukuna whispers to himself. He’s never felt this way before. He's never had someone occupy his mind to this extent. He’s never wanted to be with a woman like this. He doesn’t do relationships, as cliche as it sounds, but he would have rather been alone for the rest of his life. He's never wanted to have a girlfriend by his side, to hold, to kiss, to love, to protect. But with you, it’s different, you’ve changed him for the better. He needs you, and you need him.

You need each other.

*Ping*

‘I’ve found some stuff on the girl…’ Toji messages

Sukuna sighs heavily. Toji really tests his damn patience.

‘Like what, Toji? Don’t beat around the bush.’

‘My bad…’

‘She’s studying Art at university, in her 2nd year, and umm, she’s also a teacher at Megumi's preschool. Yano with your nephew… probably should have mentioned that, huh?’

What. The fuck. Jin AND Toji knew who you were before him?!

‘Toji, don’t piss me off. I told you her name, you don’t know her fucking name?’

‘I’m sorry, I dont know her fucking name. They just call her Miss Fluttershy or somethin, from that kids' show? My little horse? I think she mentioned her name before, I just forgot…’

‘You’re so fucking useless sometimes.’ Sukuna runs his large hand down his face.

My God. Yuji talks about you every fucking day. You gave him those stupid colouring books.

“Miss Fluttershy.”

The kids’ just as obsessed with you as he is.

‘Do you know what days she’s working?’

‘Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays’

‘Perfect.’

~~~

As Monday finally rolls by, Sukuna couldn’t be more thrilled to see you again. There hasn’t been a second since he met you that he hasn’t thought about you. What will you wear? A dress? It’s quite warm today. What perfume will you use? Do you have a favourite? How will you style your hair? In a bun? No, a ponytail!

His body is practically buzzing with excitement just to see your face again.

To smell you.

To hear your voice…

The way you say his name... It’s been echoing through his mind.

So soft and delicate.

What would you sound like yelling his name? What would you sound like moaning his name, while he slid his thick inches into your tight walls.

“Fuck…” he sighs, as he rubs against his growing member—

No.

Stop.

It’s almost 14:00, he’s got 30 minutes until he needs to pick up Yuji, (and meet the love of his life again,) and he looks a fucking mess. Hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow. He looks nasty. It’s not good enough for him. It’s not good enough for you.

Sukuna finally pulls himself out of bed, throwing on a wife-beater, a grey tracksuit and shaving his five o’clock shadow.

Great. Presentable.

15 minutes.

15 minutes until he sees you again.

~~~

“Come on, Yuji, honey, your daddy’s here.”

“No, it’s not my Papa, it’s Uncle,” the pink-haired boy says as he grasps onto your hand.

Oh, the mysterious brother Jin always speaks about, and the Uncle little Yuji admires.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him! I’m sure he’s just as lovely as you.”

“No, he’s a big meanie,” The young boy deadpans.

Oh…

As you turn the corner with little Yuji trailing by your side, you’re faced with someone you didn’t expect to see at your place of work.

Sukuna.

How does he know where you work— wait. Is he here for Yuji? He’s Jin’s brother? The brother Jin and Yuji mentioned countless times?

There you are, and you look so beautiful. He was right, you’re wearing a dress. A floral dress. How adorable. He just wants to dress you up like the doll you are— wait.

You’re flustered. Why are you flustered? Aren’t you happy to see him? Did he do something wrong?

“Sukuna? You’re Yuji's uncle?” You inquired, “Wow… Come to think of it, you guys look so much alike. I should have noticed the moment I looked at you, huh?”

You begin to chuckle to yourself

“Actually, I think Jin and Yuji are happier looking than you.”

“He’s always angry, Miss Flutter,” Yuji chimes in.

He’s holding your hand why is he still holding your fucki—

No, he’s not about to be jealous of his 4-year-old nephew, no way.

Control yourself.

“Mhm, that little brat is my nephew.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji calls out

“You’re right, sweetheart, you’re the cutest one here, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? It’s our little secret.”

He vigorously nods his head, “Mhm, I promise!”

You’re good with kids, you’re so good with kids. You don’t understand how attractive that makes you. Oh, how desperately he wants to make you a mother. A mother to his kids, his twin—

“Suku, can Miss Flutter get ice cream with us?” He hears his nephew say.

Oh my God.

Yuji, you fucking genius.

“He’s right, you should come, it’s by my place, ‘Kaspas.’ I can take you home afterwards?”

Say yes.

“I do love that place, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Angel, there wouldn’t even be a point in Sukuna's miserable life where you could intrude. Ever. If he could keep you by his side forever. He would.

“You could never intrude. Come on, my treat before our date.” He smirks as he desperately tries to convinces you to get ice cream with him… and Yuji.

Just fucking say yes. Do you not want to be around him?

“Hmm… okay fine, I’ll come along. Let me get my stuff quickly.”

Thank fuck.

Sukuna lets out a relieved sigh. You’re difficult. Is that normal for you? If it is, he's got to correct it. He can't have a disobedient girl by his side.

No way.

Again, Yuji pulls him out of his thoughts, “Suku, do you like Miss Flutter?” The young boy asks as he looks up at his uncle.

Sukuna chuckles and leans down to the boy’s ear and whispers,

“Don’t be a nosy brat.”

~~~

As you make your way to the car park, with Yuji still grasping onto your hand, you come into sight with Sukuna's car, an extremely expensive car. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Detective,” He answers back.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking out loud. I’m a detective,” he admits.

“Woah, it pays well clearly,” you say as he opens the car door for you.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just for you, angel,” he winks.

You’ve been watching him drive for the past five minutes. You can’t help but stare. He’s so beautiful. He and Jin hardly look alike as twins. Don’t get it twisted, Jin is just as attractive as his brother, but there’s something so ethereal about Sukuna's features. Almost as if he’s not a real person. Does he have any flaws? He was perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. His arms are… massive, he clearly spends a lot of his time in the gym. His nose… is so… rideable. My goodness, how did you get this guy to approach you?

“You’re staring, angel, you like what you see?” Sukuna questions, as he cocks his brow.

“Yes, I actually do.” You shyly replied

“Well, we don’t live far from each other, you’re more than welcome to see me more.”

“I know I’m just— I’m really busy, as much as I’d like to see you, I need to focus on school and work…”

Sukuna wants to be mad, but you’re such a good fucking girl. You should focus on your studies, yes, but what about him? His focus is on you right now, so why isn’t yours on him?

Bullshit

“But, maybe we could have dinner tonight?” You innocently ask.

“I’m making lasagna, do you like it?”

“I love it, Miss Flutter!” Yuji chimes from the backseat

Honestly, Sukuna forgot Yuji was here.

Sukuna sternly looks at the boy through his rearview mirror. “No, you’re going home after this, brat.” He asserts.

“Hmph,” you hear from the sulking child, as he crosses his arms and pouts his lips.

“I’ll love whatever you’re making,” He grins.

“You might be my biggest fan behind Yuji, Sukuna. You’re not gonna start stalking me, are you?”

Sukuna grin falters

“‘Course not, I’m a normal guy. I promise.”

Liar.

~~~

The three of you arrive at the dessert parlour, 20 minutes later. It’s understandably packed since it’s a warm day. You find a table in the corner of the shop, giving Yuji the seat by the window, and Sukuna sitting opposite you.

“Hi, what can I get you guys today?”

“Cookies and cream!” Yuji yells at the server

“And for you, pretty?”

Sukuna's eyes darken and snap towards the boy. The fuck did he say?

You giggle.

You fucking giggled.

You think that pathetic attempt at flirting is cute?

“Vanilla ice cream, please, and some cookie dough.”

“And for you?” the guy mutters at Sukuna.

Sukuna side-eyes the server and mumbles a quick “nothing.”

The audacity this kid has to speak to you like that and you like it?!

“Sukuna, are you okay? You don’t want anything?”

“I'm not big on sweet things,” he comments bluntly.

“Oh-kayy, it’ll be about five minutes.” He finally walks away.

That little shit. Who the fuck does he think he is. And why the fuck are you feeding into his bullshit?

“What a creep,” he hears you say.

“I swear, everytime i come here he does that shit, it’s boring.”

“Does he bother you?”

“Every damn time. I just pretend I’m into it now, he was way creepier before,” you pout as you look out the window.

Sukunas lips twitch into a smirk.

Angel, you're never seeing that piece of shit again after today. Don't worry your pretty little head.

He’ll protect you.

“Why don’t we take it to go? And I’ll take you and the kid home before dinner,” Sukuna proposes.

“Yeah, I’d like tha—“ you begin to say but that dumbass server cuts you off.

“Here are your orders. And this is for you,” he winks at you before walking away.

It’s his number.

“Well, I guess he’s feeling confident today, huh?” You awkwardly say.

“Come on, Yuji, let’s go,” you say as you grab his smaller hand in yours to leave. You make sure not to pick up the tissue with the server's number on it and make your way to Sukuna's car. But don’t worry, Sukuna definitely made sure to pick up the tissue and stuff it in the pocket of his joggers.

“How about you take Yuji back without me, and I get started on dinner? I'll text you my address,” you say, but you don’t give Sukuna the chance to answer back, you’re already walking away.

“Bye, Yuji!” You wave.

Sukuna hates to see you go but fuck, he loves to watch you leave. How long until he gets a hold of you, really? How long until he can see you every second of every day? Really, how long? What if he kept watch of you—no, that's too much… is it though? He’d be able to keep an eye on you from afar, for now at least. It's not too much if it's keeping you safe.

“C'mon, kid, let’s go.”

~~~

You've never cooked for a guy before. I mean, you've cooked for Satoru before, but he's not a guy, he's… Satoru. Satoru, who lives down the hall, Satoru. You know? You wonder if he and Sukuna will get along if you both continue seeing each other.

You've texted Sukuna your address, so he should arrive soon. Luckily, you're prepared to have guests today, your apartment is spotless, well besides your bedroom but he won’t see that. Fuck you’re nervous, over some guy? But he's not just some guy. You've known his brother, his twin brother, for over a year now. This is insane.

Finally, you hear a knock at your door. He’s here. Gosh, are your palms sweating right now?

Calm down, you’ve got this. The food looks good, and you look good. Everything's going to be just fine. Now just open the door.

Once you swing your door, you’re faced with the biggest assortment of flowers. Peonies, roses.

You're in awe.

“Sukuna… these flowers… they’re my favourtie.”

You tweeted that they were your favourite flowers in 2018… Yes, he scrolled that deep into your socials.

“Gosh, they're so beautiful, thank you. I don't know where to put them. Come in quick before the food gets cold.” You say as you hurry excitedly to your kitchen.

Your apartment's cute.

Cosy, for a girl like you.

Sukuna bets you’d feel cosier in his apartment. You’d have so much more space for your books, your pretty shoes, your dresses. You’d feel at home. Home is wherever he is. You need to live with him. You need his protection. But for now he can just watch you. How? He has 4 mini cameras stuffed in his pockets he's planning on hiding around your apartment. There’s already one outside your door so he can see who comes in and out of your place.

He just needs to figure out where he wants to put the rest of them.

“Here, sit. Do you want something to drink? I have wine, some tropical juice and water of course.”

“I’ll just have water, I've actually got to go into work later.”

“Work.” He’s actually going to beat the shit out of the server that’s been harassing.

That’s still work, right?

“So,” you begin as you take a seat opposite Sukuna.

“I still can’t believe you’re Jin’s twin. You just seem the complete opposite especially in looks. You’re fraternal, right?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 minutes older.” He tells you

You sigh longingly, “I’ve always wanted twins… girls of course.”

You were made for each other.

“Wow, so do I, what a coincidence,” he admits.

“We might as well get started then, huh?” You suggest as you sip your wine.

He chokes on his drink.

What’d you say?

But before Sukuna can reply back there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, you in there?”

A guy? What man is looking for you at this hour.

You roll your eyes before pushing back your chair and making your way to open the door for said man.

“Yes, ‘Toru? I’m kind of busy right now.”

‘Toru?

“I’m sorry but I could really need some help… please?” This “‘Toru” says with a charming smile.

Annoying.

“‘Kuna, you don’t mind if I help my neighbour quickly?”

“Kuna…”

“No, not at all.” Now if he didn’t need to hide the 4 cameras in his pocket around your house, he would mind. But this “‘Toru” guy is honestly helping him out.

“Ten minutes,” you tell him as you shut your door.

Sukuna instantly rises from his seat and makes a Beeline for your bedroom.

It’s messy.

You didn’t make your bed. Do you leave your bed unmade everyday? There’s a bottle of water on your side table. You didn’t finish it.

Weren’t you thirsty last night?

Sukuna runs his large hands across your bed sheets. Running his fingers along each crease you’ve made.

What side do you sleep on? Away from the door, right?

Makes you feel safe.

“Who else has slept in here? That ‘Toru?” He spits as he kneels down to your bed level

He can smell you. So sweet. What perfume is that? He puts his face right into your sheets and breathes your scent in deeply.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your sheets.

He was practically drooling.

“God, I think I love you, Angel.”

He’s started to rub on his crotch, your smell is getting to him.

Rock hard.

He’s a creep but he doesn’t care. You’re like a drug.

An addiction.

His addiction.

He begins to pull out his leaky length from his boxers, rubbing his thumb across his swollen red tip.

So much pre-cum it’s dripping onto the side of your duvet.

He strokes himself back and forth steadily, still breathing into your unmade bed.

It’s your hand stroking him; pretend it’s you. You’re whispering his name softly…

Sensually

His pace quickens.

You might be back soon. He needs to hurry. You can’t see him in such a… pathetic state. You can’t see him in this state at all. Not yet at least.

The schlick sound of his length could be heard from the other room, he’s desperate at this point. Whining for you, pleading for you.

“L-love you. Ugh, I love you, Angel.” He cries out as if he's confessing to you.

“Need you. So b-bad.”

His core tightens, hands clutching onto your sheets.

Wishing the load he’s about to release was spilling into your womb instead.

Soon

His throat lets out a guttural moan, he’s cumming, but not into you.

Into his hand.

His fucking hand.

Pathetic.

After Sukuna recuperates himself, he places each camera in a spot he knows you won’t see, but he’ll definitely see you.

He also takes a few presents for himself from your washing basket.

He’ll definitely make good use out of them.

It’s been 10 minutes and you’re not back yet. What’re you doing with your neighbour?

Just as Sukuna is wondering where you are, you open your front door dishing out apologies for your absence.

He’s not mad… Only because he has a date to attend.

A date with the Parlour Boy.

𝜗𝜚 Authors Note: ehhhh. ehhhhhhh he was creeping me out at the end icl but uh what do you think? i’ve never write this much before. i know for a fact im gonna come back and rewrite things in the future but here you go! goodnight ♡

𝜗𝜚 Chapter One… | Chapter Three…

[hotchnersangel]

PICK A COLOUR

Aaron Hotchner

In which, Aaron Hotchner loves his girl and wants to match her in every way and especially through the intimacy of nail art.

cw: nailtech!reader, fluff, private relationship, curious bau team members

Aaron Hotchner, the brave, intellectual and ever so masculine man was completely comfortable in his masculinity. He wore a suit to work, was in a very fit condition due to his active and strength driven job of Unit Chief at the BAU. However, if you had told him a few years ago that he would fall hopelessly in love with a nail technician and bend to your every will, he would smile at the opportunity to have such a love that consumes him through his core, encouraging him to do whatever he can to please you. He liked the thought of having someone to care for and he liked it even better that it was you he could care for.

The moment Aaron met you, he knew you were special. He admired you in every way possible. Your perfect imperfection, your quirky style, your desperate desire to make others content and happy through your acts of generosity and kindness. He adored everything about you and frankly, he couldn’t remember life without you. He didn’t want to.

He admired your talent for art, especially how every-time he left for a case- he would return and find you painting you nails with another crazy, bright and beautiful design. He loved your passion towards your job.

He used to hate the smell of nail polish, with Haley growing up, he would frown at the smell of it enticing the house or her bedroom.

Now however, it made him smile because the smell reminded him of you.

Aaron had returned one night from a case, utterly exhausted and eager to get home and see his girl, curl up on the sofa and talk about how eventful your days have been. He walked through the door, placing his keys in the jar, taking off his coat and hanging it up before heading into the living room. You were sat there, sprawled across the couch, hunched over the coffee table, a towel beneath your hands and that familiar scent of nail polish. There was a random sitcom playing on the TV, providing you a background noise as you stare intently between the brush in your hand, your tongue slightly sticking out as you focus intensely on your nail design.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m home.” He announces with a smile, admiring the sight before him. The lights casting a warm glow over your figure with the reflection of the TV in your glasses.

You look up briefly, a large grin sporting your face. “Hello you.”

Aaron smiles at you, loosening his tie. “Good day?”

You smile back at him and nod, “go get changed we can talk about it after.”

“Getting rid of me already?” He retorts with a tilt of his head.

“When you smell like paperwork and world conflicting ravenous monstrosities of the human race, yes.” You wink playfully at him and he chuckles shaking his head.

“Always a way with words,” he shakes his head softly with a smile, starting to walk into the bedroom but stopping behind the sofa to kiss your forehead. You lean into his touch and sigh at the unspoken feeling of love.

Aaron changes into his ‘home attire’ and returns to the lounge as you start to screw the lid of your nail polish and admire your nails. Aaron sits himself beside you on the couch and looks at your nails. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you grin at him. A mix of stars, swirls and colour pops from your hands and adds colour into his dark and monotone life.

“Your nails too.” He arches a brow playfully and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Always a charmer you are, Agent Hotchner.” You smile with soft eyes as you look at him. “I’m so obsessed with stars at the moment.”

“I can tell.” He retorts and leans his body to face you.

“Sometimes I forget you are a profiler.” You shoot at him, blowing gently on your nails. “You probably know what colour socks I’m wearing.”

“I’d day yellow considering the colour of the star on your nails but you wore your red plaid jacket today so I’m saying red.” He says casually, looking down where you are now showing him your red fuzzy socks.

“I love that I’m dating a psychic.” You laugh softly and turn to face him now. “Or just a very fashionable individual.”

“I think I’m okay leaving that to you.” He grins and tilts his head. “Have many clients today?”

You nod and start listing off some of the nail sets you have done that day and he listens to every word falling from your mouth, ready to catch each one with open arms and an extremely open heart.

“I had Jamie come in again today, he is so cool let me show you his set.” You whip up your phone and show him the smiley face set you painted on your favourite client that day.

“I love them.” He smiles as looks at the photo. “Do you get many male clients?” He asks, not with any judgement, more so with intrigue and genuine curiosity.

You nod eagerly. “I do, probably 15% of my clientele.”

“You should do mine.” He offers casually and your eyes light up visibly, with shock and admiration to the offer.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” He smiles at you, seeing how happy you are at those words. “Nothing as crazy as the smiley faces though, I don’t think Strauss would enjoy that but…”

“Can we match?” You ask sheepishly, hesitantly verbalising the thought you’d been dreaming about for way too long.

“Stars?”

You nod and smile pleadingly at him and he nods in agreement, completely entranced by the beauty of the moment.

You grin and take his hand, reopening your polish bottle. “So, tell me about your day…”

…

The next day, Aaron goes into work with his subtle nail polish on his ring finger painted with a medium sized star. Honestly, he loved the intimacy of the gesture. It was a symbol of you being carried around not only within his heart but also outwardly flaunting you in a subtle way to his teammates.

Of course, they noticed.

“Did you see Hotch’s nails or am I just dreaming…” Penelope gushes to the team as they eye Hotch in his office.

“I think we all saw it.” Emily smirks and crosses her arm and she leans against Morgan’s desk.

“My man is whipped.” Derek motions a whip cracking with a cheeky expression.

“I’m just offended that he is hiding a talented nail artist from us… I’ve been looking for a new one for well… forever.” JJ shrugs, drinking her coffee mug.

“Let’s do some digging…” Penelope smiles, rushing off to her ‘batcave’, eager to find herself a new nail tech.

[lovemni]

꒰ 승민 ꒱ ── “i love you, but if you move another inch..” ✧

KIM SEUNGMIN! ⓘ painting your boyfriend's nails.. (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!ksm ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff ! I3OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. j/threats , nicknames? ┆ 🪷 ⋮ an original drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note! 𐔌❤︎ ͡꒱ was rewatching the skzsauna ep. and you know i had to make it into a fic. >< didn't like this toooo much though, it didn't turn out as i wished it would TT.

the air cooler hummed softly in the corner, filling the room with a gentle chill that contrasted with the warmth of their bodies as they sat cross-legged on the couch.

y/n was perched on a cushion, knees drawn up, fully immersed in her masterpiece. seungmin, on the other hand, had resigned himself to his fate, his long fingers resting limply in her lap as she bent over them with utter determination.

the scent of vanilla and lingering traces of her shampoo filled the space between them, a sweet contrast to the sharp, chemical smell of nail polish.

she was wearing a tee—one that probably belonged to him—and a pair of cotton shorts, her legs tucked under her comfortably.

seungmin, in his usual loose sweatpants and a faded hoodie, sat in a lazy sprawl, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other trapped in her artistic clutches. his gaze flickered from her furrowed brows to the way her lips pursed in concentration, eyes dark and focused like she was performing life-saving surgery instead of slathering his nails in layers of glitter.

he didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked like a unicorn had combusted in her hands.

“y/n.”

“shut up.”

seungmin sighed dramatically, shifting ever so slightly, and immediately, her grip on his wrist tightened. her fingers were small but firm, skin cool against his own. she had the habit of holding him with just enough force to make him stay put—not demanding, but unyielding.

he loved it. (...kinky ksm????? im sorry this is a joke)

seungmin huffed. “i just said your name.”

“and that’s where you went wrong.”

he rolled his eyes, but she caught the movement, finally glancing up at him. a knowing smirk tugged at her lips, and his heart did something weird in his chest. she had that effect on him—could make him feel exasperated and ridiculously in love at the same time.

“stay. still!”

“i am still.”

“then why is your hand shaking?”

seungmin squinted at her. “oh i don't know, probably because my insanely-artistic girlfriend is threatening me while holding a tiny, very untrustworthy brush?”

y/n barely acknowledged his suffering, her head tilting slightly as she carefully dabbed a broken star-shaped glitter speck onto his pinky.

the brush was small but looked dangerously close to stabbing him every time she got impatient. she tapped it against her lower lip as she gave him a pointed look, before returning to her masterpiece. the glitter paint reflected against the dim lighting, tiny specks clinging to her fingers as she worked. seungmin could feel the slight coolness of the polish drying on his nails, the contrast to her warm fingertips as she pressed down lightly to steady his hand.

he stared at her profile—the gentle curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fanned against her skin, the tiny crease between her brows. she looked beautiful like this, completely lost in whatever chaotic, weird idea had taken root in her pretty mind.

“you take that back.”

seungmin just raised an eyebrow. “not when my hand looks like it got attacked by a five-year-old with a paint obsession.”

she went back to her task, her fingers absently tracing his wrist as she worked. “you wish you looked this good.”

“babe, there is pink glitter everywhere.”

“it’s called style.”

“it’s called a mess.”

she lifted his hand, examining it thoughtfully. “actually, that’s kind of true—”

“i hate this.”

she smirked, leaning in slightly. “no, you don’t.”

she scooted even closer, their knees brushing now. her warmth seeped through the fabric of his hoodie, and seungmin found himself distracted by the scent of her shampoo. the citrus-vanilla mix was comforting—familiar in a way that had nothing to do with the room they were in, and everything to do with her.

seungmin sighed dramatically, tilting his head back against the couch. his dark hair was slightly tousled from how many times he had run his fingers through it in frustration. “i love my girlfriend, i love my girlfriend, i love my g—”

his girlfriend in question, beamed. “aww, you do?”

he deadpanned. “i have to remind myself because of my girlfriend.”

she rolled her eyes and flicked a little more glitter onto his hand, giggling when he groaned in defeat.

just as seungmin opened his mouth to protest, the front door swung open.

“we’re home!— what in the..?”

the cool air from the hallway rushed in, momentarily breaking the warmth of their little space. the sudden noise made seungmin instinctively flinch, his freshly painted nails catching the light as he lifted his hand slightly. y/n, still holding onto him, turned her head slowly—like a criminal caught red-handed.

the blonde mop was the first to enter, pausing mid-step as he took in the scene before him. the soft hum of the air cooler did little to silence the growing laughter that followed.

a kiwi head, right behind him, audibly gasped, eyes darting from her mischievous grin to seungmin’s thoroughly violated nails.

jisung cackled, nearly doubling over, as the guy beside him raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in amusement.

meanwhile, the others exchanged looks before bursting into laughter, their bags slipping off their shoulders as they stumbled into the living room.

the paint was still slightly wet, and she could feel the tacky texture of it against her skin as she held his hand. seungmin gave her a blank look, letting her press his fingers to her chest in her dramatic display of defense.

the laughter of their friends filled the room, echoing against the walls, mixing with the lingering scent of paint and the faintest trace of dinner being cooked in a nearby unit.

seungmin simply sighed, lifting his hand slightly. the glitter caught the light, sparkling mockingly. “before any of you say anything—”

jisung pointed. “what did she do to you?”

felix wheezed. “oh my god—”

y/n gasped, hugging seungmin’s hand to her chest. the scent of vanilla lotion and nail polish swirled in the air. “he looks beautiful. like the diva he is.”

hyunjin covered his mouth. “is that.. is that glitter?”

jisung squinted. “are those tiny stars?”

“they are!” she nodded like a kid, “got these babies off of the tiny shop next to the museum, they're having a sale too!”

minho smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “kim seungmin. blink twice if you need help.”

seungmin closed his eyes. “i hate all of you.”

felix collapsed onto the couch beside them, still dying.

minho moved closer, examining seungmin’s hand. “wow. this is… so bad.”

she gasped, scandalized. “excuse me?”

minho looked at her again. “y/n. it looks like a unicorn got sick on his hands.”

she huffed. “you guys are just uncultured.”

“or maybe you just suck at art.”

seungmin nodded aggressively. “thank you.”

she smacked his arm. “you traitor.”

felix wiped a tear from his eye. “no, but really, seungmin, how do you feel?”

seungmin leaned back against the couch, lifting his glitter-covered hand with a sigh. “i feel like my manly dignity has been obliterated.”

“please, like you had any with that twink-energy in the first pl-” jisung began, only to be shoved to his side by seungmin, obviously.

“rest in peace.”

“on the bright side, at least you have sparkly hands for the funeral.”

“that’s so tragic.”

“you guys are just mad that you don’t have style.”

felix grinned. “i think i’m just glad i still have eyes after looking at that.”

she dramatically turned to seungmin. “baby, defend me.”

seungmin sighed. “i would, but i’m too busy planning my revenge.”

she narrowed her eyes. “that’s terrifying.”

felix clapped his hands together. “okay, but like, dinner?”

hyunjin grinned. “seungmin, you better not touch anything with those hands.”

seungmin groaned. “i hate this friend group.”

jisung smirked. “liar, you enjoy this on a daily basis.”

she kissed his cheek. “i love you too!”

“wait, can you give my nails a makeover too? they're looking super crusty..” jisung cringed, immediately sitting beside her and picking out the colors of the glitter and paints.

“wait me too, please,”

mastertag @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos — send in an ask, message or reply, to be added !!

comments, likes, asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! req. are officially closed till the month of june. thank you for reading love, hope you liked it <3

[luveline]

your bombshell!reader x spencer is feeding me so well, i'm obsessed!! SJSJS since we've seen reader jealous, is it possible to have a fic where it's spencer that's jealous?

thank u!! fem!reader

Your outfit today is simple. Pencil skirt, dark stockings, hair pristine. The thing that catches Spencer's attention, holds it between two squeezing palms, is the shirt and blazer ensemble you've styled. It's cut to fit, sleek and dark and hard to look away from. 

You brush past the back of Hotch's chair with a sigh, clearly unaware of the attention you're garnering from across the way. “What's wrong with him?” you ask. 

“The same thing as usual,” Hotch says. 

“It's not like we've ever instantly solved a case. Gideon knows this takes time.”

Elle pokes her tongue into her cheek, eyes flared wide. She says a lot without saying anything, flicking through the police files in front of her dispassionately.

“How come you stayed?”

It takes Spencer a moment to realise you're talking to him. “What?” 

“You didn't go with Gideon?” You hold your chin in your hand. “Not getting along anymore?” 

Spencer isn't not getting along with his mentor. He would've accompanied Gideon to meet with a past mass murderer, only you're here, and so he'd found unrelated reasons to stay. 

“We're fine,” Spencer says, not wanting to say more and give himself away. 

“Well, he took Morgan.” You pout, your voice dripping to a wistful whine. “What am I gonna do now without him? None of you guys ever wanna play with me.” 

Hotch smiles to himself. Spencer's stomach ties itself in knots, a tight noose that grows tighter still when you notice his expression and lean in toward your superior. “What's that smile for, Hotchner?” 

“Don't you have emails to look through?”  

You hold your cheek in your hand lightly, fingertips digging into the soft of your cheek. Your smile is like a kick to the chest, achingly sweet on such a pretty face. “No…” Your pinky digs into the corner of your mouth. “I don't remember that being on my agenda today.” 

“Consider it an addition.” 

Is Hotch flirting back? Spencer isn't sure why that strikes him so hard. Maybe because Hotch would actually have a chance with you if he wanted it; your flirting with Hotch is more real than if it were with Spencer, because Spencer is a twenty-something know-it-all who still dresses like his mom buys his clothes. 

“It's a lot of emails, boss,” you say. 

“You have time. Start with the ones sent by Hughes and work your way down.” Hotch slides the login information across the desk into your reach. 

You look at it unhappily. Look up at him. 

Just being looked at by you is a full body experience. Whenever you look at him, he begs himself to play it cool as Hotch is now, to treat it as the affectionate playfulness of a friend rather than serious flirting. He'd have a better chance of being taken seriously by you if he didn't blush whenever you so much as breathed in the same room. 

He wishes he could respond calmly like Hotch. (He wishes you'd flirt with him and him alone. He buries that deep.) 

Envy eats at his hands. Pins and needles he tries to shake away. His movements draw your attention, and your smile worsens, which is to say sweetens, like seeing him again is a treat for the eyes. 

“You'll help me, won't you, baby?” you ask.

He goes a little blind. 

Hotch and Elle watch the encounter with similar parts pity and amusement. 

“You can read through them so quickly, I could really use your…” —you drag your fingertips down your face until your nails are at your jaw— “expertise.” 

“Reid has his own tasks–” 

“I can help,” Spencer interrupts. 

You drop your hand from your face altogether. “Thank you. Have I mentioned how much I missed you while I was away?” 

“Only five times,” Elle says under her breath. 

“They try so very hard to keep us apart. It's not fair.” 

Because unlike Reid, you don't have multiple degrees. You're still learning, and you can't be here permanently, but your talent, your knack for profiling, is unignorable. You're guaranteed a place on the team as soon as you can prove yourself to Strauss. Without a Gideon to vouch for you, that could take a while, and yet you're never jealous of Spencer skipping a few hurdles to get here. 

If anything, you admire him. “They don't understand our bond, that's all. And together we're hard to beat. Isn't that right, Spence?” 

Perhaps Spencer shouldn't be jealous. You don't call Hotch by anything so saccharine, after all. 

[patchouii]

It’s peak comedy how in episode one, Alana’s all like “Even if he doesn’t see me and even though Hannibal is great, Will hates therapists and knows all the tricks, so he avoids being honest, etc”. And Will is very vocal about his dislike of therapists, especially since one of them presumably leaked his patient information in the past with Chilton’s comments about how the Baltimore psychiatric scene probably wants to slice open his skull Hannibal-style. And then in episode two he shows up to see his new therapist, who had previously seen him in his underwear and brought him breakfast instead of just sending him some autoreply email for new patients, and says he wants to go back to work because killing Hobb felt good and powerful.

And instead of being disturbed, his new therapist goes on a tangent about how that’s totally valid because God kills people, actually, corners him up against a ladder while asking him how he feels, serves him alcohol during their 7:30 pm appointments, constantly says that Will’s his “friend” and that they’re having “unofficial therapy” or “just conversations”. And pushes the chairs closer so that he can sit closer to him. If that was my therapist, I would’ve been out of there like a shot, so there’s absolutely NO way that Will didn’t smell something generally fishy. Even Bedelia calls Hannibal on his obsessive behavior and says that it’s verging on unhealthy for him, too, and going to turn out badly, and sets a clear boundary between patient and friend while Hannibal affords her the freedom.

Like Will was a professor of criminal profiling who had to study psychology and was constantly begged by the BAU boss to glean people’s thoughts and motives, who’d seen therapists before and is friends with a generic nice therapist, can probably use his empathy to sense the massive weirdly intimate vibes Hannibal is giving off, there’s no way he thought to himself “Yeah, this is totally normal and not at all legally, procedurally, and morally sketchy as fuck, and also very lacking in homoerotic tension and heated eye contact.” Will saw the tip of the iceberg from the start. Instead of letting Will dive in on his own like he probably would’ve, he had to hit Will with it all Titanic style after hiding it by messing with his head. Hannibal could’ve been messing with his other head all along if he’d had less of an insane control complex….

[mister0ctopus]

Server Room (4)

series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary:  Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 4.4K

a/n: sorry for the delay, ive been feeling meh these past few weeks. i couldnt do anything, but i got out of the house yesterday and it was great 😌

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6

“We haven’t seen you in a while!"

Taehyung announces, his full voice cutting through your frantic typing. “This project is keeping you from us,”

You swivel in your chair, blinking as you return to the real world, and you see Taehyung pouting and Jimin, holding out a cup of coffee like an angel of mercy.

"Your boss is always giving you hard projects with tight deadlines!" Jimin states, as he hands you the coffee his irritation seeping through the smile.

“Thanks,” you mouthed. One sip of the caffeine reminded you  that you’d been glued to this chair since morning with no breaks. Your legs probably forgot how to walk.

"Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying! She’s either obsessed with you or trying to kill you," Taehyung chimes in, crossing his arms. “Or both. She doesn’t do this to anyone else on your team. Tell me this is your villain arc.”

You sigh as you stretch your back. "I’m the only senior left in the team, okay? After Mr. Tan resigned, all his VIP clients became mine. I don’t really have a choice."

"You need a break," Taehyung declared. "Let’s try that new place across the street for lunch. Jungkook says they serve the best Mexican food."

Ah, Jungkook.

The name pulls at something in your chest. You cleared your throat.

"Since when are you into Mexican food? You don't like spicy.”

He grins, unbothered. "I can skip the hot sauce. But Jungkook says it’s legit, and he doesn’t lie about food."

"Seems like you’re becoming besties with him," you say, keeping your voice casual.

"Oh, he’s great! Always chill, fun to be around. Knows all the best spots for food!” He turns to Jimin for validation, and they high-five.

"I think I’ll pass," you said, taking a sip of the coffee. "I really need to finish this today. You guys go and let me know if it’s worth the hype."

Jimin frowns, his eye smile turning into a pout. "You sure? You’ve been working non-stop. It’s not healthy, YN. Take a break!"

You glance at the screen, the cursor blinking like it’s mocking you.

"I promise,” you replied, your voice softer. “I will," knowing full well that you wouldn’t.

You decided to take your lunch later than everyone else, choosing the quiet solitude of the office cafeteria at off-peak hours. Ordering something light, you sat in a corner, hoping to catch a moment of peace.

But peace? Lol.

Staring blankly at your mug, you tried to turn your brain off, but the week’s events replayed on a loop—meetings, deadlines, late nights. And, of course, the project. Your golden ticket to the promotion you’d been breaking your back for.

You were halfway through your sandwich when muffled giggles from the table next to you pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced over, only to see a group of girls from HR, eyes sparkling with admiration. Following their line of sight, you landed on him.

Jungkook.

Effortlessly charming as usual, chatting with a girl from Marketing. His raven hair styled to show his forehead. His smile was so easy and disarming it could probably convince a cat to take a bath.

Fuck. Why was he getting hotter?

You hadn’t seen him since the night he dropped you off a few days ago, your entire interaction limited to his car radio and your yawns. You’d been so exhausted you didn’t even have time to process his stupidly perfect profile in the dim glow of his dashboard, and his glances here and there.

The girl laughed, leaning in closer, completely captivated.

Yeah, girl. I get it.

You got it. Of course, Jungkook wasn’t just attractive, he had that rare ability to make everyone around him feel seen, like they mattered.

He had helped you many times, and you couldn’t deny that he made you feel important.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a scoff. "Lunch with my friends, now wooing the entire company.”

Of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, his gaze flicked in your direction.

Caught!

You panicked and snapped your attention back to your table, hyper-focusing on the crumbs scattered across your plate.

Back to work, you reminded yourself. Stop dilly-dallying. Deadlines don’t meet themselves.

Without sparing another glance, you stood, your chair scraping lightly against the tile floor. With purposeful steps, you left the cafeteria, your focus already shifting back to the mountain of tasks waiting at your desk.

Hours later, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of the depths of your typing. The buzzing continued, and when it started to feel too annoying, you finally checked to see what all the fuss was about.

You had been added to a group chat: CABIN IN THE LAKE.

Oh, right! The annual cabin trip. That chaotic tradition where you and the group rent the same cozy Airbnb cabin, always timed perfectly for a three-day weekend, thanks to the holiday on Monday.

It started as Jimin and Taehyung’s tradition. Best friends since college, they used to rally their old friend group for Tae’s birthday back when no one was married, living abroad, or caught up in other life changes. But life stole their original squad, leaving just the two of them clinging to their precious tradition.

Enter: the work friends.

First, there was Yoongi. No one knew how Jimin and Taehyung managed to convince him to join. He initially declined, calling it a hassle, but then showed up ridiculously early on the day they were set to leave. Next came Allie, the organizational queen who meticulously planned everything down to the last detail on Excel sheets. And finally, there was you—the corporate masochist roped in because, apparently, you 'needed a break.' They weren’t wrong, of course.

Now, three years later, it had become your thing.

Allie: 📢 Attention: Our annual cabin escape kicks off this weekend. Prepare yourselves, pack early, and leave the burdens of work behind. NO work allowed at the cabin. @ YN, I’m talking to you. 👀 Jimin: If I see a laptop in there, I will literally throw it outside. Tae: no work on my birthday event please thank you! @ YN I’m talking to you 👀 Allie: @ YN, don’t ignore us! You: Calm down, lol. I’m literally finishing everything this week so I can relax with you all Jimin: finally, work-life balance 😀 You: 🙄 im trying my best to work-life-balance the shit out of this Tae: we invited Jungkook during lunch fyi Jungkook: yeaaahhhh👍 Allie: lets talk tomorrow what food to prepare when youre back from your vacation @ Yoongi Yoongi: 👍 Tae: I wish I had so many paid leaves that I could go on a trip after a fishing trip like Yoongi. Jimin: then stop using your PTOs for stupid shit! Yoongi: seen

The phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Jimin rambling about work-life balance, Tae hyping Jungkook up for the trip, and Allie sending yet another reminder about what to pack. You muted the chat and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Cabin. Lake. Jungkook.

Before you could overthink spending a weekend with him outside of work, you put your attention back to your computer screen, pouring all your tension into the project.

The next day, as expected, you nailed the presentation. Of course, you did. Your boss was full of praise, and the VIP clients were very impressed with the discussion. Sometimes you wondered why you stressed so much, but deep down, you knew the answer. Being good wasn’t enough, you had to be great.

Your sense of self-worth was deeply tied to your accomplishments at work. Sad, but whatever.

You walked into the pantry after the presentation, on your way to another client meeting, when you see your friends, all huddled around.

Yoongi’s fresh off vacation, laughing with Tae, Jimin, and Jungkook. The energy in the room was light, the kind that made you want to linger, but…work. Ugh.

“Didn’t catch a thing!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head.

“So why do you always go fishing with him?” Jimin asked, barely holding back a laugh.

“Eh, I didn’t want him to be alone,” Yoongi shrugged, crossing his arms. “Also, someone had to be there for his dad jokes.”

Jungkook groaned. “Man, I miss Jin’s dad jokes. They’re so awful, but it grew on me.”

“You say that now,” Yoongi said dryly, “but after two straight hours of ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fsh,’ I was ready to jump in the lake myself.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself laughing too. They spotted you lingering in the doorway.

“YN! Join us!” Yoongi called, waving you over.

You shook your head, holding up a hand. “I’m literally just passing by. I have a client meeting in like… right now.”

Jimin and Tae both dramatically groaned.

But before you left, you walked over to Yoongi and gave him a quick hug. “Missed you, though. Tell me more about your fishing trip later.”

“You know where to find me,” Yoongi replied with a smirk. “But it was mostly Jin and I sitting on a boat.”

“Sounds riveting,” you teased, waving everyone goodbye as the laughter resumed behind you.

You caught Jungkook’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The week went by fast, and everyone seemed excited, looking forward to the weekend trip.

After a three-hour drive in the early Saturday morning, you finally arrived at the cabin. The scent of firewood and cedar greeted you like a familiar friend.

The cabin was a perfect blend of modern and rustic charm. It ss a two story retreat with three cozy bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, and an inviting living room. Large windows shows off the breathtaking views of the lake, letting in an abundance of natural light that made the space feel even more open, serene.

The crisp air nipped at your cheeks, but the way the sun glinted off the lake beyond the porch made the chill comfortable.

Slowly, you could feel the tension from work beginning to melt away. This was exactly what you needed.

Everyone naturally fell into their roles without a single word exchanged. Allie and Yoongi immediately took over the kitchen, playing MasterChef, while Jimin and Taehyung turned the living room into an entertainment hub. As for you? Well, you were graciously tasked with giving Jungkook the grand tour—not that you minded… at all.

He trailed behind you, nodding intently as you showed him around. You almost sneered at his attentiveness, the way his eyes widened as if you were explaining something groundbreaking.

So, this is Yoongi’s room,” you said, stopping at the first door by the stairs. “You’ll be sharing with him.” You pushed the door open, staying just outside the hallway, revealing two double-sized beds and a massive window with a stunning view of the lake. Jungkook stepped inside, dropping both his and Yoongi’s bags with a quiet thud.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the view before shifting to the door across the hallway. Before he could ask, you preemptively pointed. “That’s Jimin’s and Tae’s room, and here,” you gestured to the door beside his, “that’s mine and Allie’s. Yoongi insisted on not being next to Jimin and Tae. Gods know what they’re up to at night, they make weird noises.”

Jungkook grunted in acknowledgment, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Oh, by the way, each room has its own bathroom. That’s honestly why we keep coming back here. Aside from the lake and other stuff, of course.” You laughed, your voice echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. Just as you were about to show him the balcony at the end of the hall, someone downstairs shouted your name. Probably Jimin or Tae yelling about the cottage.

“Ah, the cottage by the lake!” you exclaimed, snapping your fingers. “It’s a great spot to chill. Or stargaze. We usually take dinners there or nap. It’s kind of our favorite spot,” you added with a grin, gesturing downstairs.

Jungkook mirrored your excitement with his signature scrunched-nose smile. Before you knew it, Tae and Jimin had joined in, whisking Jungkook away to show him around the cottage and the lake. The three of them looked like overgrown kids finally let loose on a playground.

Back in the kitchen, you joined Yoongi and Allie to finish cooking—though, most of it was already done. You ended up as a taste-tester. By the time everything was ready, the three boys had returned, eager to help set the table.

Lunch was a mix of chaos and calm, the former courtesy of Jimin, Tae, and Allie, while Yoongi’s steady presence, and your quiet nature balanced it all out. Jungkook, as the newest addition to your group, fit in seamlessly. Though he was closest to Yoongi, his easygoing nature made him click with Jimin and Tae almost instantly, their shared humor evident in their playful banter.

By the afternoon, everyone was sprawled in the cottage by the lake.

The cottage was a cozy wooden structure with a slightly weathered exterior, which added to the charm. It is surrounded by large windows , always kept open to let in the fresh breeze and the gentle sound of waves at the lake shore. It was warm and inviting inside, with soft lighting, and a wraparound porch showing panoramic views of the lake.

You and Allie lay on a mat, scrolling through your phones and occasionally showing each other funny memes or cute animal videos. Yoongi was settled in a chair with a glass of whiskey, reading something through his phone with the occasional hum of approval.

The three boys decided to swim in the lake, and you immediately began muttering prayers under your breath, for what, you weren’t entirely sure.

Maybe for divine intervention to stop Jungkook from being so infuriatingly distracting, or perhaps for the strength to keep your jaw from hitting the floor every time he emerged from the water.

He was wearing a black compression shirt that clung to him perfectly, revealing his colorful inked arm here, the outline of a toned torso there, and let’s not even get started on those thighs, perfectly framed by his black basketball shorts. Every time he strolled over to grab a snack from the picnic basket near you, you pretended to be deeply invested in your phone, eyebrows furrowed like you were decoding quantum physics. Anything to mask the heat creeping up your neck and the very inappropriate thoughts threatening to invade your peace and relaxation.

By evening, you all decided to eat dinner in the cottage, the vibe now tinged with the warmth of alcohol and laughter. The moonlight perfectly cascaded over the lake, its silver glow reflecting off the water and illuminating the cottage like a serene painting. The soft glow of lamps inside added to the ambiance, making everything about the place perfect.

Everyone seemed louder now, the alcohol buzz turning the cozy cottage into a chaotic, laughter-filled arena. Tae and Jimin were wrestling on the floor, mimicking exaggerated WWE moves that made Allie’s contagious laugh echo throughout the space. Yoongi, now a little chatty and loud, had taken on the role of their coach, shouting absurd instructions.

“Chokehold, Tae! No, no, Jimin, counter with the sleeper hold!” Yoongi barked, his face uncharacteristically animated as if he was controlling two game characters.

You watched Jungkook laugh at their antics, his bunny teeth flashing as he swatted away Jimin and Tae’s attempts to drag him into their chaos. But when the two of them finally lunged at him, intent on overpowering him, Jungkook barely even flinched. With a fluid, almost effortless motion, he sent both of them sprawling back onto the couch like they weighed nothing more than throw pillows.

Jungkook is strong.

You don’t know what to do with this information.

It wasn’t the strength itself that caught you off guard, you knew Jungkook worked out, but watching him do it with such ease felt almost... dangerous. You wonder how those strong hands gripping your thighs, pinning you against the wall, as he pounds—nope. Nope.

Stop right there you horny bitch.

You gulped down the flavored beer in your hand, the cool liquid doing little to douse the heat crawling up your neck.

“Thirsty much?” Allie teased, nudging you with a smirk as she caught your flustered state.

“I—yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Jungkook’s laugh broke through your spiraling thoughts again, and you stole a quick glance at him. Thankfully, he seemed blissfully unaware of the effect he had on you, just being his playful self, swatting Jimin away like an annoying fly.

You feel the heat building in your core becoming more and more unbearable. You press your legs to try to soothe the feeling but it’s clear that you need more. You need a cold splash of water on your face, or better yet, a shower.

Standing abruptly, you excuse yourself for a 'bathroom break.' Your friends barely glance up, offering quick nods before returning to the chaos around them.

Chaos.

This chaos is the perfect cover for Jungkook.

Ever since he met you, there hasn’t been a single day he hasn’t felt like he’s stuck in his own personal hell.

He’s been avoiding looking at you for far too long, for obvious reasons.

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. Now that he’s close to you and your friends, he’s doing everything to keep it together, to not let anyone, especially Yoongi, catch on. Yoongi’s too observant, and Jungkook’s painfully aware of that. He’s not ready to talk about whatever is going on with him. Or whatever it is he's feeling towards you.

But that moment in the Server Room? He feels a gnawing guilt in his gut, the worry that he made you uncomfortable. He hasn’t heard a word from you about it, though. Didn’t give any hint that something was off. You would’ve said something if you were uncomfortable, right?

You, with your cold, uptight air, focused only on deadlines. You wouldn’t let him get close if you weren’t okay with him. You’d cut him right away if he crossed a line, right?

Was he imagining you there? Maybe you didn’t actually see him. Maybe you weren't actually in the Server Room. He was probably hallucinating in desire. He’s not sure anymore.

But damn, you don’t make it easy.

Earlier, when you were lying on the mat with Ally, your shorts slipping up just enough to flash him a taste of your soft skin, he nearly choked on his drink.  And now, sitting across the cottage from you, your short dress riding up as you adjust your position, the soft glow of your skin under the dim light…

Fuck.

He wonders how your skin would feel beneath his hands… how it would feel if he buried himself in you.

Focusing on Jimin and Taehyung provides some distraction, though the temptation to steal another glance at you lingers like a ghost. Thankfully, no one seems sober enough to notice his wandering eyes, or the way his shorts have grown uncomfortably tight.

You, oblivious to the war raging in his head, excuse yourself with a quick smile at Allie before heading to the cabin.

Thank God.

Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and forces himself to join the conversation.

But just as he thinks he’s getting a break, Yoongi’s voice cuts through. “Jungkook, can you grab the portable speaker I told you to bring?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Jungkook stands up without a second thought, almost like it’s automatic when someone older asks, barely processing Yoongi’s other questions as he heads to the cabin.

You step into the bathroom, stripping your clothes as you go. Your damp panties are a clear evidence of your need, and you groan in frustration. With a shaky breath, you turn on the shower, hoping the cold water will wash away the tension building inside you. But as the droplets hit your skin, they do little to distinguish the fire within.

It hasn’t even been a day in this cabin, and Jungkook is already a problem.

Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone, or perhaps the close proximity is making you hyper aware of him. Maybe it’s the memory of him, lost in his own pleasure in the Server Room, fingers working his body while thoughts of you flickered through his mind. The image awakens something in you. Was it just one-time thing? What did he picture you to be while he touched himself?

You pull yourself out of your thoughts, allowing the shower to wash away your lingering filthy desires.

After the quick shower, you step out, wrapping yourself in a towel. But you’re still burning up.

Sighing in frustration, you sit on the bed and brush through your damp hair, but it's still too wet… so you pat it dry. As you glance into the mirror, your reflection catches your eye. The soft, golden light from the lamp casts a warm glow on your skin, drawing your attention, and for a moment you're entranced by your subtle radiance.

You trail your fingers over your arms, your collarbone, down to your chest. Your nipples harden under your touch, and you groan softly. The cabin is alive with distant laughter from the cottage, your friends blissfully oblivious to your desperation.

The craving intensifies, and without thinking, your hands drift lower, over your stomach, to your thighs. Your legs part instinctively, your fingers finding the slick heat between your folds. You press against your clit, your breath hitching at the electric shock that runs through your body.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands there instead. The way he would touch you, soft and rough. The way he would devour you, make you beg for more.

You picture him. His body, his hands, his mouth—all of it.

As your fingers slide inside, you bite your lip, your body shuddering with need. You pump in and out, the friction building, but it’s not enough. You groan in frustration, you need more.

You need something bigger, harder. You need him.

Your eyes lock onto the round brush on the side, its dark wooden handle glistening in the dim light. Something primal snaps within you. Without a second thought, you grab it, your fingers curling around the bristles as you lift it to your lips. The thick, rounded handle presses against your mouth, and you drag your tongue over it, coating it with your spit.

Your heart races as you slide the handle down your body. Lifting yourself off the bed just enough, you position it at your entrance, the anticipation making your thighs tremble. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself onto it, gasping as it stretches you open. Your eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching every inch of the handle disappear inside you.

The sight alone makes your body shiver in need, and soon you can’t hold back. Your hips move instinctively, a slow grind that quickly builds into something desperate. You ride it hard, fast, the rhythm of your movements echoing through the creaks in the room. Each thrust draws a whimper from your lips as your imagine Jungkook beneath you, his strong hands gripping your hips, his dark eyes blazing as you grind against him. The way he’d look at you, the way he would sound as he moans your name, needy and breathy, like how he did in the Server Room.

The creak of the bed grows louder, and in your mind, it’s because of him—pounding into you relentlessly, the headboard slamming against the wall, his deep groans mixing with your cries. How he’d ruin you completely, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your hand remains between your legs, circling and flicking your clit in time with the thrusts. The tension builds and builds, each movement pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally let go, when your orgasm crashes over you, it’s intense—like a pressure valve bursting open. You cry out his name, repeating it as your body trembles, your vision blurring as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

The moment Jungkook opens the door to his room, right next to yours, his gaze immediately lands on the portable speaker that Yoongi had asked him for, resting casually on the table alongside his other things. He walks toward it absentmindedly, his mind spinning in circles, thoughts tangled and restless.

How could he speak to you alone without feeling like his throat is closing in, without that damn knot of nerves tightening in his chest?

For fuck's sake, he’s not some shy guy. Maybe reserved at first, but shy? No. Not anymore. So why the hell does it feel like your gaze alone could drop him to his knees? He will do whatever you tell him—crawl, bark, beg. Whatever you wanted. No hesita—

"Fuck, Jungkook..." A moan. So soft, so faint, it feels like his mind is playing tricks on him.

And then another moan, but this time incoherent, then a soft creak, followed by the rhythmic sound of a bed moving.

His body goes rigid, every nerve on high alert. You’re in there. Alone. What the hell is going on?

He moves toward the wall separating you from him, pressing his ear against it, desperate to hear more of you.

Another moan, louder this time, long and dripping with need.

His breath stutters, pulse hammering in his ears. The muscles in his jaw tighten, his cock twitching involuntarily. The sound of you—fuck. That’s how you sound? Beautiful. Perfect. Needy. And shit… you’re thinking of him? Fucking yourself, imagining him? He’s losing his mind.

His shorts feel suddenly painfully tight. His hands tremble, fumbling at his waistband, pulling the thing that’s aching to be freed out of both pants and boxers in one desperate motion.

The moans and soft whimpers continue and it’s too much. He grips his cock, the hard length throbbing in his hand as he starts to pump. His strokes grow frantic, desperate, matching the steady pulse of the bed as it rocks with your need.  His mind floods with images of you—your fucked out face, wet lips parted in pleasure, the way your body arches, shivering beneath him, trembling with each of his movements. He imagines your nails dragging down his back, marking him, claiming him as his own. The sound of his name on your lips again and again, each breath getting closer to his ear, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, tighter.

When you cry out his name again, he can’t take it anymore, he bursts. His release hits him hard, his body shuddering as he spills his hot white cum into his hand, and some of it staining the walls.

He stood frozen—breathless, trembling, overwhelmed by the weight of a realization.

You, an actress.

Behind the mask of ambition, beneath the cold exterior of reservation and control, lies a desperate, hidden need.

You had begged for it in silence.

He would make sure you screamed for it out loud.

taglist: @taekritimin123, @vantelover1306, @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @almatiarau, @kxthx-b, @lively-potter, @jk-190811, @ilovejungkook9999, @goldietigers294, @dreamyluna18, @va1-erie, @snow-strawberry, @lovieku, @daskewl @jksusawife @daskewl @pp0810 @cherryreadsfics @boyfriendtaekook @michuga @kchukes @ahgasegotarmy116 @michellekosmos @pitchblack0309

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𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 & 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍

requests are open!! but i’m slow sometimes, so pls be patient <3 i swear i’m not ignoring u

commissions are open too!! they become top priority!

𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝:

works with sexual content will be tagged in pink

my writing might include mature themes, so read at your own discretion!

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Office Hours (professor!harry) | (ongoing)

A simple essay question leads to something far more dangerous. As tension rises between you and Professor Styles, you’re forced to ask yourself: is desire worth the risk?

Backstage Serenade (famous!harry) | (on hold)

What starts as just another concert night takes an unexpected turn when Harry Styles himself locks eyes with Y/N from the stage.

London Fever (neighbour!harry) | (ongoing)

Moving into her new London apartment, Y/N never expected her infuriatingly irresistible neighbor, Harry Styles, to become her most dangerous obsession.

No Camera's Allowed (famous!harry) | (completed)

A secret relationship, a high-profile event, and an unbearable amount of tension. When the cameras flash, will the truth stay hidden—or will everything come crashing down?

Press Play (boyrfriend!harry) | (ongoing)

A camera, a suggestion, and a night of absolute filth. Once the recording starts, there’s no stopping what comes next.

Sunburnt & Smitten | (completed)

A sun-soaked, drama-filled collab where Harry learns the hard way that his biggest romantic rival isn’t another guy—it’s the book you won’t put down.

Serendipity & Stumbles (single-parent!harry) [part 1 ] [bonus scene] [epilogue]

Indigo (famous!harry) [part 1]

Raw & Reckless (boyfriend!harry) [part 1]

Easy Money (sugardaddy!harry) [part 1]

Love me, Ruin me, Lose me (playboy&fratboy!harry) [part 1]

Until You Stay (famous!harry) [part 1]

Private Show [part 1]

Polished in Love [part 1]

Matilda [part 1]

Look At Me When You Take It [part 1]

Perfectly Imperfect [part 1]

Soft Spot [part 1]

Silver Springs [part 1]

And The Oscar Goes Too... (famous!actress x famous!harry) [part 1]

Into The Wild (tour guide!harry) [part 1]

The Cost of Keeping You (CEO!harry) [part 1]

Lash Out (And Love Me) (nail&lashtag!reader) [part 1]

if you scrolled all the way ily!! 💞

[gloomglimmer]

𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑  𝟎𝟎𝟏  here  is  my  latest  dossier  template!  designed  to  help  you  explore  and  develop  your  character  in  depth!  please,  like  or  reblog  if  you  intend  on  using. 

BASICS

Full  Name:

Known  Alias(es):

Age:

Gender:

Birthday:

Heritage:

Religion:

Sexual  &  Romantic  Orientation:

Status:  (Alive,  deceased,  missing,  verse-dependent,  etc.)

Residencies:  (List  properties,  safe  houses,  or  frequently  visited  locations.)

Highest  Education  Level:

Occupation(s):  (Primary  career,  side  ventures,  or  any  criminal  affiliations.)

PHYSICAL  EXAM

Facial  Features:

Faceclaim:  (Optional  visual  reference)

Voice:  (Describe  tone,  accent,  speaking  style,  and  cadence.)

Voiceclaim:  (Optional  reference  for  speech  patterns  or  voice  tone.)

Eyes:

Hair:

Body  Type:

Distinguishable  Marks:  (Scars,  tattoos,  or  unique  features.)

Weight:

Height:

MENTAL  EVALUATION

Mental  Illnesses  (if  applicable):  (Diagnosed  or  speculated  disorders.)

Psychological  Profile:  (Core  motivations,  fears,  triggers,  etc.)

Positive  Traits:  (List  at  least  four.)

Negative  Traits:  (List  at  least  four.)

Alignment  Type:  (D&D  alignment  or  custom  moral  code.)

Personality  Type  (MBTI):

Phobias:  (If  any.)

Mannerisms:  (Unconscious  habits,  nervous  tics,  or  common  gestures.)

Hobbies  &  Interests:  (Leisure  activities,  intellectual  pursuits,  or  obsessions.)

STRATEGIC  ANALYSIS

Combat  Style:  (Brutal,  strategic,  erratic,  refined?)

Weapon  of  Choice:  (Blades,  firearms,  improvised  weapons,  etc.)

Hand-to-Hand  Combat  Proficiency:  (Strengths  &  weaknesses  in  close  combat.)

Tactical  Strengths:  (Leadership,  adaptability,  patience,  etc.)

Tactical  Weaknesses:  (Blind  spots,  arrogance,  temper,  emotional  ties.)

Signature  Techniques:  (Favored  moves  or  combat  tricks.)

Pain  Tolerance:  (How  well  do  they  withstand  pain  or  injuries?)

Defensive  Skills:  (Escape  artist?  Counter-fighter?  Tank?)

AFFILIATIONS  &  RELATIONSHIPS

Family:  (List  members  and  relationship  status.)

Allies  &  Associates:  (Trusted  confidants  or  powerful  connections.)

Rivalries:  (Ongoing  personal  or  professional  conflicts.)

Enemies:  (Those  actively  working  against  them.)

Romantic  History:  (List  known  or  rumored  relationships.)

Notable  Friends:  (True  friendships  vs.  strategic  alliances.)

HABITS  &  LIFESTYLE

Daily  Routine:  (Structured,  chaotic,  or  ritualistic?)

Diet  &  Nutrition:  (Healthy,  indulgent,  restrictive,  etc.)

Exercise  Habits:  (Type  and  frequency  of  physical  activity.)

Grooming  Habits:  (Meticulous,  rugged,  or  indifferent?)

Substance  Use:  (Drinks?  Smokes?  Drugs?  How  frequently?)

Sleep  Patterns:  (Well-rested  or  chronically  exhausted?)

Personal  Aesthetic:  (Style,  wardrobe,  and  preferred  fashion  choices.)

Favorite  Books:

Favorite  Music  Genres:

Favorite  Art/Architecture:  (If  applicable.)

SPECIAL  NOTES  &  CHARACTER  LORE

insert  here

[jonathansthickthighs]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Yandere! Choso Kamo x Reader

Description: You start receiving sweet, anonymous love notes from a secret admirer which start turning perverted over time.

Trigger Warnings: 7.4k words, nsfw, college AU, yandere, afab reader, obsessive love, virgin choso, CREEP CHOSO, pervert choso, stalker choso, masturbation, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), choso is kinda pathetic, he calls reader princess, reader is lowkey into choso stalking her, dark themes

Not edited!

Masterlist

I wish you could grasp the exquisite beauty you hold in my eyes. ♡︎

Your eyes widened as you read the note placed in front of you on your desk, heat rushing to your cheeks. Surely this person must be mistaken, was this note really directed at you? You looked around the empty classroom wondering who could’ve possibly left this note on your desk and if they were even in this class. Even if you weren’t sure if the note was for you, suppressing the smile that was forming in your face felt impossible. Nobody had ever said anything like this to you before. Sure, people found you attractive, but the way this was written almost felt innocent— like there was no malicious intent behind it. The complete opposite of what most men that approached you were like.

You traced your hand over the neat calligraphy, feeling your heart rate speed up at the thought of someone truly thinking this about you. You couldn’t help yourself from reading it over and over, allowing your lips to curl up knowing no one was around to see you smiling at a paper like an idiot.

Unbeknownst to you, a tall, pale man with dark hair styled in space buns, stood there observing you discretely through the small window of the amphitheater door. Your reaction to his note caused his heart to leap with joy, the sight of your smile held the power to brighten even his darkest days. Your response to his message only inspired him to dedicate his time to write you more notes that would make you feel as flustered as he was by you when you spared him a single glance.

Choso stepped away from the door smoothly when he started hearing voices approaching from down the hall, pretending to be entertained by his phone. He glanced at the time on the screen, noticing it was almost time for class, but he opted to wait for everyone else to walk in before him. He always did this. Never had he been alone with you in the classroom even though he always arrived before you. He always stood behind a wall watching you stride gracefully into class earlier than everyone else. You were such a smart, punctual, responsible girl and he admired that greatly. He loathed never being capable of being alone with you, knowing he would be a blushing, horny mess— quite frankly, that’s not the first impression he wanted you to have of him.

Taking a deep breath, Choso walked in, making his way to his usual sit, two rows behind you, yet at a perfectly angle where he was able to contemplate your side profile. The moment he walked past you, your eyes locked. You offered him a small, cute smile and Choso wanted nothing more than to beam back at you, but instead he drifted his eyes away from yours, blushing in embarrassment. You exuded such kindness, always greeting him with the warmth of your pretty smile, even amidst the whispers and judgements surrounding his oddness. You kept smiling for him even when he didn’t smile back.

Choso was a very shy man. He didn’t know how to talk to girls, but that wasn’t something he was interested in doing before he met you. Dating had never been something he took interest in. Despite his brothers’ persistent attempts to orchestrate romantic encounters with women, they would always be left disheartened by Choso’s aloofness, proof of his disinterest in the affairs of the heart until he found you. None of them were like you.

The pale man proceeded his daily routine of observing you, not paying attention to what the professor was explaining. To him, this was his time to learn all your quirks and movements. His own personal course of you. Don’t you dare ask him anything on what the class is actually about because he’ll just answer with facts and observations about you. Like how you chew on the cap of your pen furiously when you don’t understand a subject or how you shift in your seat every few minutes because you just can’t seem to find a comfortable position to sit in.

He finds solace in studying your countenance, captivated by your vivid expressions, particularly your expressive eyes. The eyes are the windows of your soul, as they say. They unveil the depth of your emotions, he could tell when something was off about you by merely looking into your eyes— your feelings always danced within them. Being able to stare into your eyes without fear of rejection was one of his deepest desires in life. Feeling lost was a petrifying emotion, but losing himself to the never ending abysm that lived in your orbs was something he would never be apprehensive of.

You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. There isn’t a second in the day where you are not invading my thoughts. I wish I had the courage to speak to you.

Reading the note that was accompanied by a beautiful rose this time, you pouted, wondering why this person was so afraid to approach you. According to your own judgment, you gave off a friendly demeanor. If only you could figure out who was leaving you these notes. You weren’t afraid of approaching them first if they were too shy to do so themselves. You had been getting these notes for a month now and no matter how early you got to class this person always beat you to it. Deciding to form a plan to get this person to show themselves, you started brainstorming.

You could never begin to comprehend the depths of Choso’s love for you. That’s why you would never understand his reasoning when he followed that disgusting man that harassed you on campus. You would never understood why he had to pull the man to an empty alley and make him suffer. Choso hated that he had been at work when it all went down, he wasn’t there to save you and he would never forgive himself for it.

He was lucky you were able to scape him, but nonetheless you would’ve never went through that horrifying situation if only he had been there to protect you. He came to the conclusion that he needed to know your location at all times. That’s why he pretended to bump into you as you made your way to your other class, slipping an AirTag into one of the pockets of your bag discreetly.

He could imagine look of fear in your eyes when this man tried putting his grimy hands on you— it was enough to drive Choso to violence. He wanted to cause that scum the same fear he had caused his precious girl. The lengths he would go for you were unimaginable. What would you think of him if you knew he had stabbed that man to death that night? Even through his internal turmoil about your perception of him, he couldn’t help but feel proud at what he had done for you. From the moment he saw you, he knew he was capable of anything just to keep you safe.

One thing he felt grandly ashamed of was his perverted thoughts. To him you were much more than just a sexual object, but he couldn’t stop his cock from getting hard at the trivial thought of you. Never before had he experienced sexual desire this intense before, because of that, he was still a virgin at his age. Losing his virginity had never even crossed his mind before. Yet, after he met you, he couldn’t stop imagining how pushing his length into your wet, tight heat would feel like.

Every night he would spend it scrolling endlessly through your social media— which he didn’t dare follow— and staring at your beautiful pictures, smiling at him so sweetly. Choso would stare at them intently, thrusting his cock into his fist desperately, moaning your name, imaging you were riding him vigorously trying to make yourself orgasm on his throbbing cock. Thinking about it was enough to make him explode all over his hand and well built abs. Abs he had spent hours at the gym working on to look good just for you. He wanted— no needed you to find him attractive, if he wanted you to only see him he had to make sure he looked his best.

He had trouble containing his excitement when you were around, you simply were too beautiful for your own good. Hence the reason he stood outside the window of your apartment jerking his cock as he watched you rubbing your swollen clit through the window. He wanted nothing more than to climb through the damn window and attach his hungry lips to your clit, which was just begging for his attention. It wasn’t the first time he watched you masturbate, it was clear as day that you needed some help, his help. When you accepted to be his, he would gladly service you every day and night. It didn’t matter how many times as long as you were satisfied, he promised to put your pleasure above his always.

Choso massaged his throbbing cock thoroughly, spreading the precum that leaked from his sensitive tip all over his shaft. He covered his mouth attempting to muffled his pathetic whimpers from being heard by you. He continued watching as you inserted two fingers into your tight cunt, making Choso’s eyes roll all the way to the back of his skull. He wished he could be the one pushing his digits inside of you. He was sure they would feel better than yours, his were so much bigger, they would reach depths you’ve never reached before. Gods, your moans were the most melodious sound he’d ever heard, you were driving him insane— he wasn’t going to be able to hold it much longer. He needed you to come with him. He didn’t deserve to come if you didn’t.

Your facial expressions were the sexiest thing he has ever witnessed. You were simply godly, there was no other way to describe you. The beads of sweat forming on your forehead and coating the rest of your body gave you a breathtaking glow. He needed to taste your skin, kiss and run his tongue all over your delectable body. “Please…” Choso didn’t know what he was begging for, what he did know was how badly he wanted you. His twitching cock was proof of that.

Choso could see your face contort in pleasure. He learned by watching you so often that, when you made that expression, it meant you were close to reaching your peak. He felt relieved knowing that he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. “Let’s come together, princess. P-please, give this to me.” He uttered in a hushed tone, moaning your name lowly.

He shivered as you started fingering yourself at a quicker pace, arching your back. It was almost like you were inviting him to ogle at your heaving breasts, your nipples he so badly wanted to take in his mouth, noticeably perky through the thin fabric of your oversized shirt. Choso would make sure to provide you with a lifetime supply of his shirts, you would never feel obligated to buy an oversized shirt ever again.

Your jaw slacked open as you let it all out, making Choso undergo through a confusing sense of jealousy over your own fingers, yearning to feel you releasing your sweet nectar around his cock instead. Breath heaving, he fisted his pulsing cock a couple of more times, enjoying the sound of the lewd noises that came out of your perfect lips, before spraying an copious amount semen on the ground. He tugged on his cock a few more time, coming down from his high at the same time as you.

“Goodnight, I love you.” His voice barely a sigh as he whispered longingly. He tucked himself back into his pants swiftly before pressing a soft kiss into the tip of his fingers to then drag them it across your reflection in the window. He jumped recalling he should’ve been at his place by now, having lost track of time completely, knowing he had to prepare dinner for his brothers. So with one last look at you, he disappeared into the night.

When Choso arrived to the amphitheater he was surprised to see a note on your desk already. He quickly approached it, grabbing the note, recognizing your handwriting right away.

I want to meet you.

He stilled in place at the five words scribbled on the paper. You were actually interested in finding out who he was? Choso couldn’t decipher what your intent was, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted you to know your secret admirers identity just yet. He knew you were well aware of the swirling rumors about him, everyone painted him as nothing more than a freak. His demeanor remained reserved and he preferred solitude over companionship, which only fueled the disdain others had towards his persona. He wanted to believe you would never see him in such way, but there was always something stabbing him on the side, whispering the possibility that you, too, might harbor the same prejudices as them.

Choso opted to respond to your message briefly, accompanying it by one of your favorite treats before rushing out of the classroom, aware that you would arrive at any moment.

Just like that, exactly one minutes later you entered through the opposite door Choso exited from. You took notice of the note on your desk from afar and quickened your pace towards it in excitement. Smiling, you inspected the treat placed right next to it. How this person knew what your favorite things to snack on were, remained a mystery to you, but it didn’t bother you as long as they kept them coming. Grabbing the note and opening it, your smile disappeared only to reappear in Choso’s face as he watched your reaction. Your facial expression were just so funny to him sometimes.

No. ♡︎

“The fuck?” You exclaimed out loud in disbelief. No? Just no?! You pondered the ulterior motives of this individual. Had they just been playing a month long prank on you this whole time? Visibly frustrated, you plopped down into your seat, glancing at the note once again to make sure you were reading correctly.

Choso felt guilt wash over him when he saw you get genuinely upset, yet he couldn’t suppress the soft giggle that escaped his mouth at how cute you looked when you were mad. He despised that he made you feel this way, but he would reveal himself to you when he was ready and now, was not the right time.

Routinely, he lingered behind for everyone to enter ahead of him before making his entrance. Like he always did, he passed by your row, his eyes inevitably sought yours yearning for that connection he felt with them. This time, an impulse seized Choso, deciding to give you a tentative smile only to not be greeted by your own— mirroring the same coldness he always showed you each time you beamed at him. Bewildered and wounded, he hurried to his seat feeling like he just received a punch in the gut. Was your behavior due to your exasperation at the note or was it because you allowed everyone to taint your mind with the rumors about him?

The pain he felt by your indifference towards him lingered in his chest. Choso spent the whole lecture overthinking, anxiety building in his stomach and causing him to tremble. There was one thing he was completely certain of.

He hated when you didn’t smile for him.

Gloom filled the rest of Choso’s day ever since you decided to stab him in the heart with your frown. Today he had the evening free from his job and he decided to spend it staring at your pictures with a leaky, throbbing erection straining against his sweatpants. He didn’t deserve to ease himself after the events that transpired today. Staring at one of his favorite pictures of you smiling so prettily, he ran his thumb desirously over your face through the screen of his phone. He fantasized about the softness of your skin as he cupped your gorgeous face in his big hands before pressing his lips to yours. He ran his fingers over his chapped lips imagining how they would feel rubbing against your soft ones.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door of his room slam open, holding his phone to his chest securely before facing whoever forced him break out of his delusions. “Yo, bro where’s the—“ Yuji cut himself off when he saw the strange position his brother was in. “You’re not watching porn are you?” He questioned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Choso.

This caused Choso to shake his head rapidly, with widened eyes. “W-what? Of course not, Yuji! What is it that you need?” He inquired eager to usher his brother out of his room with utmost haste.

Yuji smiled slyly, sliding into his bed. “What are hiding, bro?” He curiously interrogated his older brother, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

Choso chuckled nervously, his grasp on his phone tightened against his chest. “N-nothing, just scrolling, heh.” Way to go, Choso, you can never hide anything from your prying brother. This caused Yuji to snicker, throwing himself towards Choso, fighting him for his cellphone. “Don’t think I don’t see your raging boner, bro. Let me see what you’re looking at!” He joked, attempting to force his phone out of his iron grip.

“Why are you even looking there, brother? Gross!” Choso quipped back, his voice muffled by his brothers hand on his face. With a victorious laugh, Yuji suspended his arm in the air seeing Choso’s phone in his hand.

Yuji quickly unlocked his older brother’s phone because, of course, he had no passcode. “Whoa, she’s so pretty. Who is this?” He exclaimed in astonishment, scrolling through your profile, bamboozled at the fact that his virgin brother was finally taking interest in an actual girl.

“Yuji, please just give me my phone back.” Choso sighed in defeat, not wanting to talk to his brother about his obsessive love for you.

“Is she your crush?” Yuji questioned playfully, dragging the last word. Choso furrowed his eyebrows together, before nodding awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. His younger brother erupted in a boisterous laugh, rolling on his bed like a madman. “About damn time, bro! I was staring to think you were going to die alone— wait, why aren’t you following her?” Yuji inquired, confused by what he was seeing on the phone screen.

“I— we’ve never really talked.” Choso sheepishly admitted, heat creeping up his neck in embarrassment.

“Unacceptable. Let’s talk to her now!” Immediately after that suggestion, Choso ripped his phone from Yuji’s hand.

“Are you insane? She’s gonna think I’m a creep!” Which he was, but he didn’t need his brother knowing that.

Yuji shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, so help me understand. You don’t talk to her and she doesn’t talk to you. I bet you can barely look at her in the eye. How exactly do you plan on getting your crush to evolve, bro? Are you going to pine in secret forever? Do you think one day she’ll come to our door asking for your hand in marriage out of nowhere?” I wish.

“You know what?” Yuji snatched Choso’s phone back, smirking, before pressing the follow button.

“Yuji, no!” Choso pulled his space buns in frustration, falling back on his bed. He glanced at the watch on his nightstand knowing you most likely had your phone on your hand at this hour. There was no way you would miss the notification.

“Chill, bro, it’s done. You’re welcome!” Yuji beamed as he threw Choso’s phone back to his chest, his grin radiating with accomplishment as he rose from the bed, making his way out of the room with a satisfied stride. Choso groaned, covering his face with hands as he blushed furiously. Not even a minute after Yuji walked out of the room he felt his phone vibrate and Choso’s heart almost came out through his mouth when he saw the notification.

You followed him back.

The next day you walked through the door of the amphitheater with a gleeful spring in your step— your frustrations from yesterday seemingly dissipated. You decided you weren’t going to force whoever was sending you notes to show themselves. They have the right to remain hidden if that’s what they truly desired and you weren’t one to beg anyone for anything. If something was bound to happen with your secret admirer, it would.

As per usual, a folded paper laid on your desk, but you were quick to take notice of the white paper bag that stood next to it. You furrowed your eyebrows as curiosity took over you, almost skipping towards it. The note was brief and straight to the point.

Would you wear this for me?

As you blinked, a sense of puzzlement washed over you upon reading the note. Now they’re sending you clothing items? The bag, securely sealed with tape, offered no deterrent as you swiftly tore it open. Instantly, a surge or heat flooded your cheeks at the sight of its contents. You moved your gaze around, making sure no one was around before pulling out a box that held a pair of panties, colored a deep purple, made out of lace, see through material. Oh, but they weren’t just any panties, it was one of those vibrating underwear that was controlled by someone else with a controller.

You couldn’t believe what your eyes were seeing right now. Out of all the endless note you had received from them, this was way out of the ordinary. None of them had shown anything sexual, not even innuendos. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t know wether to feel disrespected or severely turned on at the thought of your secret admirer controlling the vibrations during class. You bit you lips giving it some thought before nodding with determination. You shoved the panties back in the bag, advancing out of the classroom in direction to the restroom.

Choso watched in disbelief as you walked out, scarcely able to believe that you were actually going to wear his gift. Today, he had woken up feeling bold and after the confidence boost he got from you the night before, he had decided to procure something a little more special for you. After you followed him back, he saw it as a signal that you didn’t see him as everyone else did. Perhaps you two would be meeting sooner than he had anticipated, yet first, he wanted to test the waters.

He needed to assess the extent of your willingness to invest in him without even knowing his identity. He would’ve never guessed this would be something that excited him at this extent, his cock was fully erect as he eagerly waited for you to come back. He wished he could see the way those panties would cling to your hips and ass— something told him he would sooner than later. He had specifically bought that color to match his hoodie, which he was wore today in hopes you would wear his gift. And you did.

By the time you were back, everyone had settled to their seats already, including Choso. The moment you stepped into the classroom, he pressed the button in its lowest setting drawing a whimper from your lips, making everyone turn their attention towards you. Your eyes widened, swiftly offering an awkward, yet apologetic smile before ushering to your seat. While you were in the restroom you were able to catch sight of what the box the panties came in said— your secret admirer had failed to notice that the box indicated that the vibrations were controlled by a close-range remote control. Now you were able to confirm that your admirer was in this very class.

Choso smirked as he watched you take a seat, nobody else noticed, but there was a slight wobble to your walk— only a person that observed you constantly could differentiate from you usual stride. He proceeded to change the vibrations to the medium setting, almost chuckling out loud when he saw you jump slightly at the sudden change of speed. He could only imagine how wet your cunt was getting. Such a dirty girl, getting off to being controlled by a man she doesn’t even know in front of everyone. Would you be able to orgasm like this?

The pale man had to contain a hiss as he palmed his throbbing cock over his pants under the table, desiring nothing more than to give it to you on the spot. He could see the noticeable embarrassment on your face from his angle. Shifting on your seat every so often, covering your mouth with your hands as you attempted to take your notes and your eyes rolling back every time he changed the speed. He simply loved watching you look around, making sure no one noticed your odd behavior. Choso never knew this could be so hot.

Choso bit his lip, cock twitching in his now too tight pants, seeing your chest heaving up and down. He could tell you were close, so he decided to change it to the highest speed. He watched you lower your head, tightly shutting your eyes closed as you came, muffling your whimpers with your hand. Unbeknownst to you, Choso was in the same exact position as you as he released in his trousers by simply observing you.

He was thankful he decided to wear dark pants today.

I know I messed up, princess. I shouldn’t have given you the panties in the box. Now you know how close I am to you. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed watching you squirm in pleasure in your seat. This is embarrassing to admit, but you were so sexy that you made me come in my pants. I hate wasting my cum that way when it could easily be inside you instead.

I’ve been thinking about it and I changed my mind about us meeting. How about we meet at the fountain in the middle of campus? Tonight at 8pm. I bought you a little something to wear for me. ♡

You hadn’t stopped re-reading the note ever since you left class. The dark, purple summer dress he had bestowed upon you lay delicately on your bed as you wished time would hasten its pace, eager to encounter this mysterious individual. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach as well as fear, what if this person turned out to be less than benevolent? There was barely anyone around campus at that hour, there no one to save you. Memories of the time that man had tried harassing you flooded your mind, not wanting the past to repeat itself. Yet your longing to meet this person persisted more than your anxieties. That’s why you opted to pack a pepper spray and a pocket knife in your bag without forgetting to share your location with your best friend.

Noticing the time to leave was approaching, you quickly dressed yourself, spritzing one of your favorite perfume on yourself before stepping out the door.

Choso was a nervous wreck, having arrived an hour too early. He had been sweating bullets the whole time as he attempted to get ready, forcing him to endure three showers. How was he supposed to look his best for you when his body wasn’t cooperating? He had wore his best outfit for you and made sure his hair was neatly styled in his usual do.

Now, he was there, struggling to regulate his breathing, trying his hardest to control his sweating. He dreaded appearing like a disheveled mess when you finally met. He kept checking the time, despising how extended each minute felt. He scrolled through your account, attempting to make time pass by faster, entertaining himself with your pictures as he always did when he felt down. He took notice of the time, seeing it was already one minute past eight. Where were you?

You were merely a minute late, yet panic took over him, entertaining thoughts of being left abandoned or worse yet, fearing that something had happened to you on the way here. Rising to his feet, he scanned the dimly lit campus and there was no sight of you. This couldn’t be happening to him. He could almost feel tears forming his eyes and just as he was about to check your location, he heard soft steps approaching through the grass.

He turned around and there you were.

He gulped when he saw you were wearing the dress he had gifted you with so much love. You were so beautiful, his heart twisted in his chest. For the first time it was just you and him— with your knowledge, obviously. He stared into your eyes and you stared right back. Your eyes were wide in astonishment. Choso attempted to open his mouth, but no words came out.

“It’s you.” You stated, your voice almost a whisper. Choso’s chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, his gaze was fixated on your pretty face and he couldn’t possibly look away. So, so pretty— he wanted to snatch you away and hide you from the world, your beauty shinning for his eyes only. He probably had a lovestruck look on his face and he didn’t even care about hiding it anymore.

“Y-yeah.” That was all Choso could manage to utter out, wishing he had left his hair down so it would at least cover part of his flushed face.

“You’re a shy little thing aren’t you?” You giggled, taking a few steps closer to him. “You can’t even look at me in the eye for more than a second.” You added as you tried to catch his golden brown eyes, surrounded by what seemed like red eyeshadow, but in reality the crimson around his eyes was brought to you by his lack of sleep. Choso kept his gaze on the ground, feeling the back of his neck starting to sweat. “You were incredibly bold the other day, not what I would expect from a man like you. Consider me pleasantly surprised.” He blushed harder at your compliment.

“Y-you liked it?” Choso inquired attempting to meet your eyes again, almost whimpering at how close you were to him. He could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“Honestly, I found it quite disrespectful.” You started, making Choso’s eyes open up as he started apologizing profusely, but he was cut short. “But that was only at first. The more thought I gave it, the wetter I got. I fucking loved it, Choso.” His dick shot straight up the moment he heard his name leave your lips, he had longed to heart it for longer than you could muster. You drew yourself nearer to him until your soft chest was pressed against his hard one. Choso could stop his eyes from glueing themselves to your chest, being squeezed against his own. He was rock hard.

“Now it’s my turn to be bold with you, Choso. Would you like to go back to my place and show me what you can do with that, instead of a vibrator?” You suggested, biting your lip as you cupped his member in your hand. The golden eyed man couldn’t hold his whimpers when he felt your hand on him. This was not the way he visualized this night, but there was no way he would reject your offer.

“Let’s go.” Choso agreed eagerly.

You grabbed his hand as you both started hurrying towards your apartment which was only five minutes away. He was certain he would never tire of the feeling of your hand on his. He stared at you face, not believing you were truly here with him. He couldn’t stop himself from slipping your hand from his and lifting you up into his arms, carrying you the rest of the way.

“Oh? You seem to know the way to my apartment, have you been stalking me?” You questioned playfully, poking his cheek. Choso stopped on his tracks, looking at your facial expression trying to find the reassurance that you were truly playing with him right now. “Jeez, Choso! Relax a little, I’m only joking. I wouldn’t mind you stalking me, I’ve always thought you were the hottest guy in class.” You winked at him, causing a genuine smile to creep to his red face as he continued his way to your apartment.

The moment you arrived at your apartment, Choso rushed to your bedroom with you still in his arms, placing you gently on your bed. He sat next to you, feeling the sheets of your mattress, reminiscing of all the times he had been in here without your knowledge. You placed a hand on his thigh softly and he flexed it as he felt himself tense up when you got closer to him. “W-wait. I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

You stared at him in bewilderment. “You’re being serious right now?”

“Yes. I-I’m sorry. I wanted to let you know in case I wasn’t… good. We don’t have to continue if you don’t want.” Choso apologized, starting to get up and walk himself out of your apartment, only to be stopped by you.

“It’s okay, Choso. I just can’t believe a guy that looks like you has never done anything like this before.” You admitted as you cupped his face gently. The fact that you found him this attractive made his chest inflate with pride— after all, he always tried to look his best for you. “Can I kiss you?” You asked for permission and he answered with an eager nod. You closed the space between you both, massaging your lips into his surprisingly soft ones. Choso placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze, making you open your mouth ardently for him to slide his tongue in. Your wet tongue felt like heaven against his, you kiss was skyrocketing him into an abysm of serendipity. He never thought kissing could feel this good.

You slowly pulled away, a string of saliva keeping your lips connected to one another. “That was amazing, [Name]. Thank you.” Choso gratefully expressed, a lovesick smile lingering on his face.

Your lips formed into a smirk before pushing him back on your bed, climbing onto his lap and crashing your lips into his once again. He responded right away by sliding his tongue across your bottom lips, desperate for you to allow him entrance into your wet cavern and you complied enthusiastically. As you shared the reverent kiss you started grinding you hips against the tent in pants, making him grunt into the kiss. You pulled away from him momentarily to lift off his shirt, revealing his chiseled abs. “Wow, you’re so strong, Choso.” You praised him, dragging your hand over them, making him hiss at the contact.

“It’s all for you, princess.” He admitted, daring to place his hand on your ass that was half covered by the purple fabric of the dress. “Gods, I’ve wanted to grab this ass for such a long time. You’re so damn breathtaking.” He added squeezing your globs firmly.

“You can touch me wherever you want from now on.” You replied shakily, feeling your panties damped more by the minute. Having him feel you up and grope you this way was making you inexplicably horny.

Choso moved one of his hand tentatively up your thigh until he reached your crotch, looking up at you for permission to touch that sacred place. You gave a nod, understanding exactly what he was asking for. Choso wasted no time, running his fingers over your clothed pussy. You shut your eyes, quivering as you felt him graze your sensitive clit, wanting for him to pull your panties off and touch you without a barrier. “Can I taste you?” You slowly unveiled your eyes to find Choso begging you with his eyes to allow him the pleasure of eating you out. You nodded zealously, getting off his lap, standing in front of him as he remained seated.

Choso pulled your dress off, slowly exposing you to him. “I can’t belive how beautiful you are.” He ran his eyes over your body, adorned by some cute purple, lace lingerie, making him grin adoringly. It seemed that you knew by now he loved that color on you. As much as he loved the way you looked in the little piece you decided to wear for him, he needed it off. Now.

He attempted to undo your bra, needing your assistance due to his lack of experience, making you giggle. He slowly pulled the bra off, revealing your naked breasts to him. He couldn’t help himself from ogling your breasts like a pervert, he had wanted to see you fully nude for such an extended period of time— he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

The curve of your waist was inviting him run his hands through it until they reached your hips and with that he pulled you closer to him, until your breasts were close enough to his face. He took one of your perky nipples in his mouth, sucking like he was starved while he pulled gently on your other nipple. He moved his other hand down to your cunt to rub on your clit over the thin fabric, while simultaneously stimulating your sensitive nipples. It was too much for you, moans flew out of your mouth unstoppably. You were incredibly wet.

He moved on to suckle on your other nipple, enjoying the taste of your skin thoroughly. He released your nipple with a wet pop, yearning to taste your juices on his tongue. He hooked his finger on your panties before pulling them down in a swift motion. He pushed you gently onto your bed. He spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight of your sopping wet cunt. “Such a pretty little pussy. I’ve always wanted to have my mouth right here.” Choso expressed as he placed a finger on your clit, always begging for his attention. “You don’t know how many times I’ve jerked off watching you touch yourself.” He let the confession slip out before he could stop himself.

“You’ve watched me touch myself? That’s so fucking hot!” You threw your head back as he started rubbing consistent circles on you clit. He decided he had teased himself long enough and it was finally time to taste you. He started by giving you a long lick, dragging his inexperienced tongue upwards from your entrance towards your clit, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he delighted himself with your taste for the first time. He stilled for a moment before attacking your clit with his mouth. With your guidance he was able to lick at just the right spot, earning breathy moans from you. You chanted his name as he licked your sensitive bud with no plans on stopping until you fed him your nectar.

“Don’t stop, Choso! Put your fingers inside me!” You squeaked out as he quickly complied, your walls squeezing around his fingers and he reached places you’ve never reached with your own fingers. “I’m gonna come soon!” You whined, squeezing his head between your thighs as you arched your back in pleasure.

He speed up the movements of his tongue, delighting himself with the taste of your pussy, thrusting his digits inside you at a rapid pace. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning into your clit, knowing he was going to make you orgasm with his mouth just like he always desired. Once he felt you clench around his finger tightly he knew it was over. A scream of his name rippled your throat as you let it all out. You shivered as you came down from your, legs trembling in ecstasy. Choso stayed attached to your pussy with his eyes closed, body quivering, lapping up your delightful juices. You had once again made him come in his pants.

Choso stood up from his knees, unfastening his trousers, kicking them off his feet, desperate to finally feel you pussy. You stared at his cum covered cock, taking in his size. “You’re huge, Choso.” You said eyeing him lustfully. The lewd look on your face made his dick stand up completely straight even after having came just now.

You shimmied yourself onto the middle of the bed encouraging him to climb in with you. Choso complied, hungrily contemplating your body. He loved absolutely every part of it. Placing himself on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight, he pressed his lips against yours, missing the feeling of them. While you were kissing he started grinding his cock against your soaking wet heat. His erect member was in desperate need to be sheathed by your warmth.

Choso grabbed his member by the base, rubbing the tip against your entrance teasingly slow, spreading the cum that coated him all over your pussy. “Push it in, please, Choso.” You begged, voice wavering in desire. Hearing you plead for him awakened something different in him, he no longer felt embarrassed or ashamed about anything. You had accepted him. From this day on you had become officially his and he owned your pretty body. Nothing could stop him now, nobody would take you away from him.

Satisfying your plea, he pushed in, stretching out your tight cunt with his girth. He grunted in pleasure as you engulfed him in your heat, burring his head in the crook of your neck. Your jaw slacked open as you felt his immense size enter you, feeling him in your stomach as he bottomed out. “F-fuck, princess. You feel amazing, s-so tight!” Choso complimented, conscious that he wasn’t going to last at all. Your pussy clenched deliciously around him, a sensation he had never felt before. He knew you’d understand.

“Oh, Choso! You’re so deep inside my pussy!” You managed to babble out, already feeling drunk on his cock. You grabbed onto his space buns, undoing them so you could see him with his hair down and what a great decision that was. This man was gorgeous, his long raven locks falling down his face, giving him a more rugged look. You couldn’t stop the moans that escaped your lips at just the mere sight of him.

Choso whimpered your name, ramming his cock deep inside you at a steady pace. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer, princess. I’m s-sorry.” He uttered out shakily, caressing your face lovingly. He started pumping his cock inside you at an inhuman speed feeling his orgasm approaching faster by the second.

“L-let me feel your cum inside me, Choso. Just like you said you wanted in your note!” Your words alone made him quiver out his orgasm with a loud groan of your name. He moaned, throwing his head back as your cunt milked his semen out of him, injecting it straight in your womb. You moaned enjoying the warm feeling of his spent filling you up. He continued thrusting erratically and sloppily, stilling inside you, wanting to feel the warmth of your pussy for a little longer.

“I love you so much.” He confessed breathlessly, keeping his head buried in your neck as he caught his breath, relishing the way your body molded into his perfectly. You were meant to be his. Deciding to finally pull out, he hissed as he watched your mixed juices drip out of your hole. This had been the best night of his entire life.

All thanks to you. ♡︎

[dakusan]

How The y Court You (Vampire Seduction 101)

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight vampires. eight courtships. and every quiet, calculated way they make being chosen feel like fate.

🌹synopsis: Welcome to Vampire Seduction 101. This isn’t a love story. It’s a field guide for how they choose you, study you, orchestrate you. Not all vampires hunt with fangs. Some use flowers. Letters. Custom playlists. Some knock. Others already have your keys. Every profile begins with a courtship style. They don’t fall in love. They fall into you. And build the cage from inside your chest. You call it seduction. They call it already done.

💌a/n: okay. LISTEN. first of all—i’m sorry for the first version. i don’t know what spell i was under. i thought i was writing vampire seduction and somehow ended up with ✨vampires but make it porn✨. it didn’t fit. it didn’t breathe right. this version? better. because vampire courtship actually is not sex. not chaos. it is ritual. precision. obsession dressed in quiet affection. i wanted to make it NSFW originally but that’s not what this is. i really hope this version is much better and you enjoy it more. thank you for being patient. i hope it lives in your chest cavity the way it’s living in mine 💋🦇. p.s. if this one hit different—slower, sharper, deeper—reblog it. let me know the ritual worked. p.p.s. tell me your favorite vampire. i’m collecting data. for science. or stalking.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Paradise — EXO « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:37 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

🩸 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 // Abnormal | The Leader

Composed. Relentless. Devotion built like a fortress around you.

Courtship Style: Chan doesn’t flirt. He fortifies. He doesn’t chase. He chooses. And once you’re chosen—everything changes.

You don’t notice it at first. The second cup of coffee on your desk. The way your groceries never seem to run out. The warm hoodie folded on your couch that you swear you didn’t leave there.

You start dreaming of him before you ever see him. And when you do? It’s in passing. At night. Always near a streetlamp. Always watching.

He never says too much. Never touches. But his voice? Low. Measured. Gentle like a lullaby made of steel.

“Let me walk you home.” “You shouldn’t be out this late.” “I noticed your lights were off for three days. Were you sick?”

He calls it concern. You call it comfort. But it’s ownership, waiting to bloom. Chan learns you like a blueprint. He catalogues your sighs, notes your routines, tailors his presence to your loneliness. And when he finally touches you—just a brush of knuckles, a hand at your back—you lean in like you’ve been waiting your whole life.

Mini Ficlet:

You don’t remember when it started. Maybe it was the day someone left orchids on your doorstep—your favourite, though you’d never told a soul. Maybe it was the night a man’s silhouette walked you home from the shadows—always just far enough to not be real.

Or maybe it was now. Now, when he stands in front of you, dressed in charcoal wool and midnight silence, placing a velvet box in your palm like it weighs less than his restraint.

“It reminded me of you,” he says.

Inside is a necklace—simple, but devastating. A dark garnet set in a delicate rose gold setting, the stone carved with your initials.

You’ve known him for three months now. Or rather, he’s let you know him. Bit by bit. Hour by hour. He speaks slowly. Moves gently. But you’ve never doubted the force beneath it. When he takes you out, it’s always somewhere quiet. expensive. safe. Private rooftops. After-hours galleries. Candlelit corners of museums you didn’t know opened at night.

“I booked the entire floor,” he said once, when you gaped at the empty hall of mirrored sculptures. “I wanted it to be just us.”

It should be too much. Too fast. Too intense. But he never touches you without asking. Never pushes. Never forces. Still, every time you wake up, there’s something new: — your favourite pastry waiting at your desk — your name whispered in a stranger’s dream — a tailored coat in your size, already broken in with your scent

You never see him do these things. But you know it’s him. Always him.

There’s something devastating about how deliberately he loves. He never hides that he wants you. He just refuses to take without invitation. He never kisses you first. But he watches your mouth like it’s a sacrament he’s not yet holy enough to touch.

He sends letters, sometimes—written in ink so rich you’re sure it was pressed from crushed roses and wine. Folded into parchment that smells faintly of smoke and sandalwood. Each one signed with his name.

On one of your dates, he brings you to a vineyard. Not a restaurant—the entire vineyard. It’s winter now, barren and beautiful, trellises skeletal under silver clouds.

He lights a fire. Pours wine he says is older than most empires. Then he tells you something no one else has.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he says, voice low, eyes locked to yours. “Not your blood. Not your time. Not even a kiss.”

“Then why all this?” you ask.

He smiles. “Because if I’m to be damned by desire, I want it to be desire I earned.”

The silence between you shifts. Thicker now. Softer. You look at him. Really look. The broad shoulders draped in black wool. The hand curled around his glass—barely suppressing the tremble when your knee brushes his under the table.

He’s not pretending to be calm. He’s just choosing to be.

You realize, suddenly— He’s not waiting for you to fall in love. He’s waiting for you to realize he already has.

And when you kiss him that night—finally, breathlessly, fingers in his curls—he sighs like a man who’s been underwater for centuries, and just now remembered how to breathe.

Because Bang Chan courts like a vow. And you? You’re already his holy thing.

🩸 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 // Abnormal | The Prince of Teeth

Elegant. Ritualistic. Lethal devotion wrapped in silence.

Courtship Style: Minho doesn’t fall often. But when he does—he falls decidedly. No games. No glamours. No guessing. He won’t flood you with gifts or whisper pretty nothings just to hear himself speak. He won’t show up where you are by chance—he’ll ask to see you. And if you say yes, he shows up on time, dressed well, and holds the door open like he was born to. He doesn’t love loudly, but he loves deliberately. He watches what matters to you—and shows you that he saw. You like cats? He donates to a local shelter in your name. You’re learning to cook? He handwrites his family’s jjigae recipe and includes a box of the exact spices he uses. You wore a necklace once and never again? He asks why—and listens to the answer. He doesn’t flirt with words. He flirts with consistency.

Mini Ficlet:

You don’t expect flowers from Lee Minho. But he brings them anyway. Not roses. Never anything cliché. Today it’s blue thistles and white tulips—sharp and quiet and unexpectedly lovely.

“They reminded me of you,” he says, handing them over with a half-shrug, like it’s no big deal. Like your heart didn’t just knock against your ribs.

Your second date is simple. Thoughtful.

A tucked-away gallery filled with black-and-white photographs. He barely speaks—just watches you wander, nodding occasionally when your eyes light up.

“You like architecture,” he says after. “You kept staring at the lines.”

You blink. “You were watching me?”

“Of course I was,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How else would I know what to give you next time?”

Your third date? A quiet, high-windowed café. A sketchpad set on your seat. You didn’t tell him you draw.

“I saw the graphite on your fingers,” he explains. “I figured you ran out of pages.”

Minho’s romance isn’t chaotic or grandiose. It’s intentional. He doesn’t drown you in affection. He builds a place for it. One you can trust. One you can return to. Again and again and again.

He never makes promises. He makes patterns.

Wakes you up with a morning message—dry, short, often sarcastic. But always sent at the same time. Asks how your day went every evening. Remembers the answer. Brings you lunch when you forget to eat. Doesn’t scold. Just puts it in front of you and says, “Try the soup.”

Minho is steady like a tide. Silent when you need it. Fiercely present when you don’t know you do. Not a whirlwind. Not a fantasy. He’s the man who waits outside your building with a paper umbrella when it rains and says, “Took the long way. Needed the walk.”

Your fourth date? He teaches you how to make dumplings.

The kitchen smells like sesame and steam. Your hands are messy with flour, your braid keeps slipping loose. He rolls his sleeves up, doesn’t complain once when you ruin his shirt with soy sauce.

You ask him why he’s doing all this.

His gaze is unreadable for a second. Then he says: “Because I like you. And I’m not going to pretend I don’t.”

“So this is… what? Wooing?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He leans against the counter, eyes sweeping your face. “I don’t want almost. I want you. Properly.”

No one’s ever said that to you so plainly before. No hunger hiding behind it. No game. Just truth, dressed in clean hands and sharp cheekbones.

That night, he walks you home without touching you once. Doesn’t kiss you at the door. Just looks at you for a long moment—like he’s memorizing the way the light hits your face.

“Tell me when,” he says.

You nod.

And the next morning, there’s a single white tulip waiting on your windowsill.

Because Lee Minho courts you like he means it. And when he loves, he does so with silence, surety, and the kind of care that turns staying into a sacred act.

🩸 𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 // Normal | The Enforcer

Fiercely Devoted. Tenderly Observant. Worships the ground you walk on.

Courtship Style: Changbin doesn’t flirt to impress you. He adores you from day one—and you know it. He’s the type to fumble his words when you smile too hard, then spend all night writing a letter that says what he really meant. He respects space like it’s sacred, but still makes sure you feel chosen. Every second. Every step. You mention you’re cold once? He shows up the next day with a custom hoodie embroidered with your initials. You say you’ve never been to a concert? He books VIP tickets. And gets a seat that faces the stage and lets you lean on his shoulder. He doesn’t overstep. He doesn’t assume. But he makes it clear—he wants you. Not for a night. Not for a thrill. For always. He listens better than anyone you’ve ever met. Recites your favourite quotes back to you when you forget how to believe in yourself. Cooks for you when you’re too tired. Asks permission before touching you, even just to brush your hair behind your ear.

Mini Ficlet:

You don’t notice it at first. The extra protein bar in your locker. The umbrella left leaning by your door on a rainy night. The playlist you found on your phone one morning—filled with songs you’d mentioned once, offhand, at dinner.

But then there’s him. Seo Changbin. Big smile. Bigger heart. Eyes that track you like you’re gravity.

“You okay?” he asks, every time you look the tiniest bit off. “Need anything? Water? Snack? A nap and a forehead kiss?”

You laugh the first time. He doesn’t.

“I’m serious.”

He takes you to the gym on your second date—not for a workout, but because he wants to see what makes you strong. Between sets, he grins every time you beat your personal best. Offers his water bottle like it’s sacred. Wipes a bead of sweat from your temple with a reverent thumb.

“You’re amazing,” he says, voice low and proud. “Do you know that?”

Your third date is homemade bibimbap at his place, candles flickering, your favourite show queued up. He wears an apron. It says “Simpire Chef” in stitched red thread.

You ask if it’s a joke.

“Nope,” he says. “It’s a lifestyle.”

The fourth date is a quiet walk through a night market—he buys you a moonstone ring from a stall you barely glanced at. Later, when you ask how he knew your size, he only winks.

“I have good instincts. And maybe I borrowed one of your rings when you weren’t looking.”

You roll your eyes. But your chest is glowing.

It’s never about the money. It’s about how much he notices.

He remembers your deadlines. Sends silly voice notes when you’re stressed. Brings your favourite fruit to your apartment with your name carved into the peel like it’s a ritual.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he says once, when you pause before reaching for his hand. “You don’t have to rush anything. Just let me stay close.”

And you do.

Because Changbin courts like a man who believes love is a promise. Not a prize. Not a performance. Just a steady hand held out, palm up. Waiting. And when you take it—finally, fully—he laces your fingers together, brings them to his lips, and whispers against your knuckles: “I’d wait another lifetime just to do this right.”

🩸 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 // Abnormal | The Siren

Romantic. Expressive. Devoted like a disciple.

Courtship Style: Hyunjin doesn’t date you. He paints you into his world. Everything becomes about you—from the brushstrokes on his canvas to the songs he hums when he thinks no one’s listening. He doesn’t just fall. He descends, feather by feather, like an angel surrendering to gravity. He brings you flowers, yes. But they’re always arranged by meaning. White gardenias for secret admiration; Purple hyacinths for deep sorrow you never told him about; A single red camellia when he’s ready to say “I love you” without speaking. He writes you letters. Not just love letters—devotional scrolls. He doodles your initials in the margins, signs them with wax seals, and never asks if you’ve read them. He leaves them tucked in books, under your pillow, slipped inside your coat pocket. His love doesn’t demand. It offers. He’ll take you to art museums and stand behind you, barely touching, whispering how the light catches on your hair. He’ll draw your silhouette a hundred times before ever daring to kiss you. Hyunjin courts you like you’re a divine secret.

Mini Ficlet:

You find the sketchbook before you find the courage to ask.

It’s filled with you—your eyes in the morning light, your smile caught mid-laugh, your hand reaching for something just out of frame. Each page is dated. Some are smudged. Some soaked at the corners, as if he wept while drawing you.

You’re not even dating.

Not yet.

Hyunjin walks you home every time you stay out too late. Buys your favorite pastries without asking. Sends you poems at 3AM with a “This reminded me of you. I hope you’re dreaming something soft.”

Once, you told him you liked the stars.

So he brought you to a hill just outside the city, wrapped you in blankets, and traced constellations onto your palm with his finger.

“This one,” he said, guiding your wrist, “I’ll name after your laugh.”

Another time, you cried in front of him—something small. Stupid, you said.

He didn’t speak. Just knelt in front of you, pressed his forehead to your knee like a knight surrendering, and whispered: “Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“I look awful,” you mumbled.

Hyunjin tilted his head, resting his cheek on your knee now, grinning up at you with that infuriating, heart-melting sparkle.

“You look real. I like real,” he said. “Also, your nose gets pink when you cry. Very cute. I might draw that next.”

You shoved his shoulder, half-laughing through your tears. “You’re a menace.”

“Your menace,” he said immediately—then paused. “I mean. Hopefully. Someday. Pending approval. From HR. Which is... you.”

You broke into full laughter then, the kind that shook your shoulders and made your ribs ache. And Hyunjin—Hyunjin looked at you like he’d just witnessed a miracle. Like you’d cracked open a world he’d been painting blind, and now there was colour.

He never rushes you. Never asks for more than you’re ready to give. But he offers—daily, hourly, like a love letter folded into time.

On your birthday, he brings you a cake he baked himself. It's lopsided. Icing smudged. He’s got flour on his cheek and a candle stuck in crooked.

“Is this edible?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“No promises,” he grins. “But it’s made with love. And too much cinnamon. And possibly one egg too many. You like protein, right?”

You eat the whole thing. Together. Off paper plates, sitting on the floor, laughing so hard you forget what loneliness tastes like.

And when he kisses you again—weeks later, on a rainy morning under a café awning, fingers laced tight in yours—he does it laughing. Giddy. Like a boy who just found out magic is real and has your name.

“I loved you before I met you,” he murmurs after, pressing his forehead to yours. “But this? You choosing me back? This is my favorite version of fate.”

Because Hyunjin doesn’t just romance you. He reveres you. He cherishes you. He makes you feel like being loved by him is both sacred and silly—a sacred thing with jelly on its chin and glitter in its pockets.

🩸 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 // Normal | The Shadow Walker

Clingy. Chaotic. Loves you louder than anyone ever has.

Courtship Style: Jisung doesn’t court you in the traditional sense. He adopts you like a stray thought he can’t put down. One day you’re acquaintances, the next he’s texting you twenty memes a day and showing up with bubble tea “just in case you were sad or bored or hungry or slightly thirsty or missed me a little.” He doesn’t confess. He accumulates. Your Spotify wrapped suddenly has his favourite songs; Your fridge always has his weird snack combos; Your phone background mysteriously changes to a photo of you two (he swears it “just glitched”). He’s the loudest thing in your life—and the softest, too.

Mini Ficlet:

One day, Han Jisung was your loud, chaotic friend who kept showing up with a second sandwich. Now? He's asleep on your couch in a hoodie that smells like you, mumbling your name into a pillow like it's a prayer wrapped in drool.

You don't even fucking remember when you agreed to go on a date with him. But, here you are, him always in your space, on your couch napping and drooling.

“Did we… start dating?” you ask one day, halfway through a Netflix binge, your head on his shoulder.

He pauses. Blinks at you. “We’re not??”

You laugh. He doesn’t.

“No seriously, babe. I’ve been in a committed relationship with you for, like, seven months. I made you a playlist called ‘She Could Punch Me and I’d Say Thank You.’ That’s not something I do for friends.”

You do start dating officially after that. Or maybe you just start acknowledging it. Either way, nothing changes—and everything does. He still texts you in all caps. Still fake-cries if you don’t answer in five minutes. But now? He kisses your cheek when he drops off food. Holds your hand when you walk. Shouts “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND” any time you do literally anything, including sneeze.

You tell him he’s embarrassing. He tells you you’re hot when you’re annoyed. You throw a pillow at him. He pretends to die.

But beneath all that chaos is something startlingly serious. Like when you’re stressed and he reads to you until you fall asleep. Or when he shows up at your workplace during a late shift, holding your favourite drink, eyes all soft and worried.

“I just wanted to see your face,” he says, quieter than usual. “It makes the noise in mine stop.”

And when he finally tells you he loves you, it’s not loud. Not a joke. Just whispered against your neck after a long day, arms around you like armor.

“I know I’m a lot,” he murmurs. “But I’ll love you right. Every version of you. Loud or quiet. Messy or magic. Just let me stay, okay?”

Because Han Jisung courts with friendship, laughter, and loyalty. You don’t fall in love with him. You trip—face first—and he’s already there at the bottom, holding out a juice box and saying: “Took you long enough, baby.”

🩸 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 // Abnormal | The Dreamer

Gentle voice. Corrupt touch. Dangerous devotion.

Courtship Style: Felix doesn’t ask for your attention. He radiates until you can’t help but turn toward him. He’s warmth incarnate—smiling like a sunrise, touching your arm just a second too long, laughing like the two of you already share a secret. He burns easy, but never recklessly. His affection is loud, his intentions louder, and his desire? Always hiding behind a wink. Or a lip bite. Or a murmured: “Tell me to stop flirting and I will. You won’t, though… will you?” Felix courts like he’s falling and loving it. He brings you coffee with your name written in hearts. He sends voice notes just to say he missed your voice. He insists on “sun days”—your private tradition of skipping responsibilities just to stay in bed with the curtains open.

Mini Ficlet:

You swear you’re not imagining it. The way his gaze lingers. The way he always finds you, no matter where you are. The way his hand always settles just above your knee under the table, like a promise he’s not quite ready to cash in.

He brings you sunflowers one day. Not roses. Not peonies. Sunflowers—loud, bright, unapologetic. Like him.

“They reminded me of your laugh,” he says, grinning as he sets the bouquet in your arms. “All sunshine and kind of… illegal. In a good way.”

Your cheeks burn.

“I should arrest you,” you mutter.

“Oh please do,” he purrs. “But be gentle. I bruise easy.”

You shove him. He laughs. But then—he looks at you. All warmth gone. What’s left is molten.

“I’m serious, you know,” he says softly. “About you.”

Later, he takes you on a date that isn’t a date (Except it is. He’s just waiting for you to call it that). Rooftop blanket. Takeout. Shared earbuds. His pinky hooked around yours like a pinky promise. The stars are out. So is the moon. So is his heart, apparently.

He leans in and murmurs, “Y’know… if you ever wanted to, we could just stay like this forever.”

You laugh. “What, on a roof?”

“No,” he says, smile curling. “On you.”

You roll your eyes. He doesn’t mind. You always roll them—and you always blush after.

He starts showing up more. With snacks. With games. With that stupid grin. You say you’re not in the mood to hang. He offers to just sit beside you, “for atmosphere.” Then somehow you’re tangled on the couch, your head on his chest while he scrolls for a movie you’ve already seen.

He insists you bake something together one night.

“I’m not a baker,” you warn.

“I am,” he says. “You just stand there and look cute.”

You throw flour at him. He retaliates with sugar. It escalates fast. You’re breathless, covered in powdered sweetness, half-laughing, half-melting when he pins you to the counter with dough-covered hands.

“You’ve got something on your face,” he whispers.

“You do too.”

He kisses you anyway.

You burn the cookies. He calls them love-blasted shortbread disasters. Eats six.

He writes notes. Sticky ones. Slips them into your jacket, your bag, your favourite book. One night, you find him humming in your kitchen—wearing your apron. Cooking something elaborate. With candles already lit.

You blink. “Did you break in?”

“I used the key you pretended not to give me.”

“…That’s not how pretending works.”

He grins. “Neither is love, apparently.”

He doesn’t ask to stay over. He just does. He doesn’t ask to hold you closer. He just fits. Like the spaces between your fingers were always waiting for his rings. Like your nights were always meant to end with him whispering: “You know I’m falling, right? Faster than I should. Not that I’m gonna stop.”

And maybe it’s the way he never lets you doubt it. Not in the way he kisses your temple after you’ve fallen asleep. Not in the way he carries you to bed when you refuse to move. Not in the way he holds your face like you’re the sun—and he’s the vampire stupid enough to burn for you (not that he'd burn, given he's an Abnormal, but go with it). Because Felix courts with warmth, with chaos, with craving— but above all, with clarity.

🩸 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 // Normal | The Beloved

Dry wit. Reluctant softness. Secretly yours before you even know it.

Courtship Style: Seungmin doesn’t court like a romantic. He courts like a realist who accidentally fell too hard and refuses to admit it. He won’t say he likes you. He’ll just roast your taste in music. Then send you a playlist. Labeled: “Fix your standards. Start here.” He won’t compliment your outfit. He’ll say, “You wore that? On purpose?” Then immediately take a photo when you’re not looking and make it his phone lockscreen. His flirting is all sharp edges and sidelong glances. If he calls you annoying, you’re already halfway to being his. And still—beneath the banter, Seungmin shows up. Remembers how you take your coffee. Waits until you’re home safe. Asks how your day was and actually listens. Buys your favourite gum. Takes you on dates disguised as “hangouts” and grumbles when you call it cute.

Mini Ficlet:

You’re fighting again.

Over something stupid. Probably the last donut or your tragic Spotify history. He’s smirking. You’re pouting. The usual.

“I honestly don’t know how someone with your taste functions in public,” Seungmin says, shaking his head like a disappointed tutor.

“Keep talking,” you shoot back, “and I’ll block you on everything.”

He blinks. Then grins. “Cute. Like you could go five hours without texting me.”

You go quiet.

Because, well. You can’t.

Later that night, there’s a knock at your door. You open it to find—

A box of your favourite snacks. A hoodie you thought you lost. A note.

“Thought you’d be dramatic and sad. I’m not doing this because I care. I just don’t want you crying on my hoodie.”

You roll your eyes. Smile anyway.

He’s not big on grand gestures. But he shows up when it counts. You mention your favourite childhood show once? The next week, he has the full DVD set in his bag. “Stumbled across it. Don’t flatter yourself.” You say you’re too tired to go out? He drags you to the convenience store. Buys two drinks. Tosses a jacket over your shoulders without looking at you. “I needed air. You just happened to exist nearby.”

One day, you fall asleep on his couch. You wake up warm. Covered. Music low. The lights dimmed. He’s in the kitchen, quietly washing mugs.

You say nothing. Neither does he. But when he turns to glance at you—his eyes soften like he’s watching a sunrise he doesn’t want to end.

You catch him smiling. He scowls instantly. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m soft.”

You laugh. “You are soft.”

He groans. “Ugh. I knew I should’ve let you freeze.”

You start noticing it everywhere. The way he always buys an extra snack, then pretends he “accidentally” got two. The way he adjusts his walking pace so your steps line up. The way his sarcasm slows down when you’re quiet—like he knows when to tease, and when to just… be there.

One night, he calls you without a reason.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You didn’t send me a meme today. Thought maybe you died.”

You snort. “Would you miss me?”

“No,” he says flatly. “I’d just have to find someone else with horrible taste in music. Tragic.”

But the next day, your favourite drink shows up at your door. No note this time. Just a sticky tab on the bottle that says:

You better not be sad again. I’m busy this weekend and can’t deal with your feelings until Monday.

And then:

...Unless it’s serious. In which case, tell me now so I can cancel.

That’s how he does it. Quiet commitment. Unspoken loyalty. Sarcastic devotion. You’re not dating. Not officially. But you’ve already become a habit to him. You realize it the day he gets genuinely mad—not fake-annoyed, not teasing. Someone hurt your feelings. And when you tell him, he goes silent. Dead quiet. Then he asks, low and sharp: “What’s their name?”

You blink. “Why?”

“Just curious. No reason. Definitely not going to curse them.”

“…You’re not serious.”

He tilts his head. “You think I wouldn’t? For you?”

You freeze.

Because his voice doesn’t sound sarcastic anymore. It sounds deadly. And suddenly, it’s so clear: He’s been choosing you. Every day. In every way. Not with grand declarations. But in the spaces between arguments. In the silences after laughter. In the way he always remembers where you left your phone, what song calms you down, and when to stop joking—just to wrap you in the quietest kind of love.

So you lean against his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. But he lets you stay there. All night. And when you wake up? There’s a note stuck to your forehead.

I like you. Don’t make it weird.

🩸 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) | The Smile with Fangs

Soft charm. Hidden heat. A smile that sneaks under your skin.

Courtship Style: Jeongin courts like he’s been planning it forever—but wants you to think it’s spontaneous. A mix of Chan’s old-school romance and Felix’s sunshine flirtation, he leaves you laughing and breathless in the same moment. He’ll bring you flowers “because they looked lonely without you,” but hide a note inside that reads like a love letter. He buys matching rings, shrugs when you notice, then blushes when you wear yours. He’s all easy banter and eye contact that lasts a second too long. He doesn’t just listen—he memorizes. The way you sip your drink. The songs you hum. The one day you said you hated rain—and how he always shows up with an umbrella. With Jeongin, the courting is gentle until it isn’t. Until the teasing falls away and he’s looking at you like he already belongs to you. And he does.

Mini Ficlet:

It starts with a dare.

“I bet you won’t show up to our next hangout in something that isn’t tragic,” he says, eyeing your hoodie with mock disdain.

So you show up in a dress. And he chokes on his drink.

“You look—” he starts, then stops. Tries again. “That’s… illegal.”

You raise a brow. “So I won?”

“No,” he grins, cheeks pink. “I did.”

Later, he tugs you by the wrist into a photo booth, insists on five different poses, and refuses to give you the strip. “Evidence of your crimes. It’s safer with me.”

You roll your eyes. But when you get home, the photos are in your bag. You have no idea when he managed to do that so quick, but he did.

He doesn’t mention it the next day. Just sends a text.

jeongin 🦊: u look better in those pics than me. rude.

you: you insisted on five poses.

jeongin 🦊: exactly. more chances to suffer.

You laugh. But your fingers linger on the photo strip anyway. Especially on the third one—where you're both laughing so hard his eyes are almost closed, and your head’s tilted toward his like it belongs there.

From then on, the courting becomes a quiet game. He sends you videos of cute animals with captions like “you when I look at you”. He wears that one cologne you complimented—then pretends not to notice when you lean in a little closer. He starts showing up to your classes, "coincidentally" holding your favourite drink. Leaves your favourite snack in your bag with a sticky note: “bribery. stay cute.” He draws hearts on the fogged-up café window and denies it. Blames the barista.

He randomly brings you keychains from vending machines. Ones that make no sense—tiny frogs, a plastic spoon, a lopsided heart. “This one’s you.” he says, handing you the spoon. You start collecting them on your bag.

He buys a small sketchbook and fills it with dumb little doodles: you as a cat. You as a villain. You as the reason he’s broke because “someone eats too many croissants.”

He doesn’t say I like you. But he wears the bracelet you made him from string and beads. Keeps the wrapper from the gum you shared in his wallet. Asks your friends what kind of earrings you’ve been looking at lately, then acts surprised when he “randomly found” them on sale.

One evening, he takes you to a rooftop arcade. You win every game—barely—and he pretends to be devastated.

“You’re cheating,” he accuses.

“Am not.”

“Then marry me,” he blurts.

You freeze. So does he.

“…That was a joke,” he says immediately.

It wasn’t.

The next week, he gives you a hoodie. Custom-made. Embroidered over the heart: fox boy’s favourite.

Jeongin’s courtship isn’t loud. It’s a slow-burn playlist. A silent “text me when you get home.” A bag of snacks he swears he didn’t buy for you—but somehow match your exact cravings. It’s teasing that feels like touch. Laughter that feels like safety. Looks that linger too long.

He courts you like a secret he doesn’t want to keep anymore.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy

[keirareidss]

suggestive comments and coffee stains -s.r

♡ summary: you're obsessed with teasing your adorable, easily-flustered co-worker pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, suggestive language, case details, wc: 2.7k based on this request

Another serial killer has brought the BAU to Nebraska for their expertise. You were new to the team, but skilled nonetheless. Aaron Hotchner had you transferred from the organized crime division a few weeks ago and this was your second case with your new teammates.

You'd already taken a liking to Garcia and you bonded with Agent Prentiss pretty quickly. The person who intrigued you the most, though, was Agent Reid. He was a genius, an IQ of 187 and he could read 20,000 words a minute. He also had the most adorable blush on his face whenever you gave him a compliment, which you made sure to do often.

Him and his sweater vest stole your heart from the moment you saw him. He'd given you that little tight-lipped smile and a wave when you joined the team and made you a coffee the next day.

Looks like pretty boy has a crush. You heard Morgan teasing him in the kitchen later.

No. I'm just... welcoming her. You hoped that wasn't true. To be honest, you were developing a little crush on the young man. He was endearing with his little rambles and his glasses.

The unsub was kidnapping and torturing young men, signs of sexual assault found when their bodies were dumped. You arrived in Nebraska, heading to the police station to set up. Hotch sent Morgan and Prentiss to the last dump sites, JJ to talk to the press, and he went with Rossi to the morgue. You and Spencer stayed behind to make the geographical profile.

"So what do you like to do in your free time?" You asked, sitting at the conference table, your feet kicked up on it, a file in your lap. Spencer was up at the board pushing pins into the map.

"What?" He looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed at your sudden questioning.

"Like, do you have any hobbies?"

"Oh. I- I don't know. Sometimes I play chess in the park."

"Oh, fun. You should teach me how."

"You don't know how to play chess?" He turned around fully now, tilting his head.

"No, but I know a few chess jokes."

"Really? Tell me one."

"Why does MC Hammer only play blindfold chess?"

"Why?"

"He won't let anyone touch his pieces." You respond, grinning in anticipation for his laughter but it didn't come. Only a furrow of his eyebrows once again.

"What does blindfold chess have to do with touching pieces?" You smile drops slightly at having to explain the joke.

"Well you call out the coordinates, not play with actual pieces. There's no board in blindfold chess."

"If there's no board why is there a blindfold?" You giggled at him.

"You're thinking way too far into this." He frowns, turning back to the map. You stood up, striding over to him. "What about this one?" He looked over at you and leaned closer to him. "I'll play with your pawn all night until it turns into the knight I'm looking for." His face goes red and he looks away.

"I- I think I liked the other one better." He stammered, avoiding eye contact. You headed back to your seat as Spencer kept his back fully to you, hiding his blush.

Caffeine was needed if you were going to get through this, this job truly worsened your coffee addiction, so you were going out on a coffee run, bringing Spencer with you. For help carrying the cups, of course.

You headed to a cafe nearby, wanting better quality coffee than the stale police precinct stuff. It was early enough in the case that you weren't in your groove yet. You didn't have many leads so all you could do was wait for something big to happen. You know when you're cutting something and the scissors just start gliding cleanly? That's the feeling you were anticipating. The smooth glide of the denouement.

Spencer walked alongside you, his hands moving animatedly in the air as he explained growing conditions, processing methods, roasting styles, and whatever came to mind about coffee beans. You'd prompted the ramble, asking him purposefully, 'why does coffee taste different in different places?'

The bell above you dinged as you opened the door to the cafe, Spencer pausing his rant so you could order your long list of requests from the team. He continued talking as you waited for the drinks, standing against the wall. You watched him with a small smile, his excitement in his knowledge clear from his face and demeanor.

Eventually, his rant came to an end and he went silent with an awkward little, 'so... yeah'. He'd somehow made his way from coffee beans to frog habitats and you didn't even remember your initial question.

"You really know a lot." You said in awe. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down with a blush.

"Yeah, I guess." Your name is called and you go to grab the drink holder, Spencer picking up the other two drinks. He follows you to the small counter on the other side of the cafe where you set down the drinks to grab straws. You turned to grab the two drinks from Spencer, not realizing how close to you he was. You walked right into his hand as he was holding it out to you, the drink spilling all over your button up (thank god it was an iced coffee).

Spencer's eyes widened comically and he quickly grabbed a handful of napkins rubbing at your shirt.

"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, that- I didn't mean to- I was just-"

"Spencer, it's alright." You chuckled, looking down at his hand. If there wasn't a napkin in his hand he would be basically pawing at your breasts. You could feel the coffee staining your shirt, soaking through to your skin as something else was soaking your panties between your legs.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, wincing when the stain didn't come out. "I- um, you can take my jacket." He stammered, pulling his blazer off.

"It's okay Spencer. You know," You step closer, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. "I would have been wet no matter what, seeing you." You would think he was a malfunctioned robot the way he froze, mouth agape, speechless. You raised your eyebrows, a teasing grin on your face.

"I- I don't-" Okay, he really was malfunctioning. You Took the blazer from him, putting it on before cleaning up the rest of the coffee spill. You left him standing there wide-eyed, heading to the counter to re-order JJ's drink. He'd apparently gathered himself by the time you got back to him, holding one of the drinks and waiting for you to give him the other one.

He was quiet on the walk back, his face still bright red to the tips of his ears. What you didn't realize was that his mind was racing. Sure, he's been flirted with before, but not from someone he liked to call a friend. He couldn't tell if you were being serious. Were you actually interested in him or did you just want a quick fuck? He didn't know which he preferred.

On one hand, he was sure he wasn't in love with you. It was just a little crush. It happens. On the other hand, he didn't know if he'd be able to have a one night stand with you and not catch feelings. He could see it happening pretty clearly, you would fuck him in a hotel room or something, and he'd be lusting after you for the rest of his long, miserable career. God, why did you have to say that to him?

"Are you okay? You've been acting weird." You confronted Spencer a few days into the case. It was looking like it was going to be a long one.

"I'm not acting weird." He instantly defended. You raised your eyebrows at him. He was most definitely acting weird. The past few days he'd been sort of... avoiding you. When you sat next to him in the conference room, your knee brushing his, he'd find some reason to get up. He needed the bathroom or he wanted to refill his already filled coffee cup or some other bullshit excuse.

You were starting to suspect he was upset with you. Had you crossed a line with your comment? Did you make him uncomfortable?

"Yes you are. Look, I'm sorry I said that in the cafe the other day, I was just-"

"It's not about that." He cut you off quickly, a rosy blush already rising on his cheeks. You'd cornered him in the precinct kitchenette, making sure no one was around when you started interrogating.

"What is it then?"

"It's just... I mean... were you serious?"

"What?"

"Like... did you mean it?"

"When I said you made me wet?" He instantly went red, his eyes flickering to find anything else he could look at. "Yeah. I meant it." You stepped closer, crowing him against the counter. "Why? Does that turn you on?" His breaths were coming in quicker now as he stared down at you. Someone cleared their throat behind you and you stepped back, turning to find one of the cops awkwardly going to the coffee machine.

You give Spencer one last sultry glance before heading back to the conference room. Spencer felt his face heat as the officer's eyes bore into him. He quickly left the kitchenette, following you back to the conference room.

The AC had stopped working in your hotel room. Unfortunate, seeing as that was supposed to be where you get rest after working an intense and stressful case, and if you couldn't do that. how were you supposed to get any work done on said case?

You decided to head across the hall, knocking on your coworkers door softly, in case he was asleep. You didn't want to deprive someone else of rest.

"Hey, what's up?" Spencer answered the door, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"The AC in my room is broken, can I stay with you?" Spencer felt his heart speed up at the thought of what that could mean.

"I- there's only one bed. Doesn't JJ or Emily have room?"

"Emily snores and I think JJ had phone sex with her husband. It's a few nights, Spence, please?" He hesitated before sighing, stepping aside to let you enter his room. You grin, heading past him to set your go bag on the desk in the room. He hadn't even seen you holding it when he answered the door, but that might have been because his mind was preoccupied with picturing everything that could happen with the two of you in one bed.

"Mind if I shower?"

"Go ahead." Spencer said, his voice rough. Great, now he was picturing you in the shower. He sits on the bed, poring back over the files while he listened to the sounds of water running in the bathroom. If he strained his ears enough, he could hear the faint sound of you humming softly.

Soon, the water turned off and he could hear your humming more clearly. The door opened and you walked out in your pajamas, hair dripping down your back. You went back to your go bag, putting your work clothes inside. Spencer's eyes caught the pair of sleek black of panties you slipped back into the bag. He quickly averted his eyes when you turned back around, heading for the bed with your hairbrush.

"What are you looking at?" You asked brightly, peering at his files.

"Just the missing persons reports for all the victims. Something doesn't seem right." He mumbles.

"Oh?" Now you're intrigued. You shuffled across the bed leaning against his side to look closer at the files. He glanced at you, feeling the heat of your body through your shirt. Around the neckline and your shoulders were damp from the ends of your hair. "What's not right about them?"

"Just... I don't know, the way they were reported. It seemed so... formal. And they're all so similar."

"Hmm." You hummed, letting your head drop to his shoulder. "How long have you been looking at these?"

"I dunno. A few hours." You sighed, reaching out to clean up all the files. "Wha- no, it's-" He immediately protested.

"Spencer, you need a break. You've been looking at these for too long." You said, gathering them all and reaching across him to put them on his nightstand.

"I'm fine." He said weakly, staring at you, nearly bent over his lap. You sit back, on your knees next to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yeah. Shoot."

Do you... do you ever think about me?" You looked at him through your eyelashes and he shifted on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess."

"No, I mean," You shuffled closer, setting a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where his cock was hardening in his pajama pants. "Do you think about me like this?" Your voice gave off the illusion of innocence. He stared up at you, eyes going wide as he blushed.

"I..."

"Have you ever thought about me touching you?" You asked as your hand trailed further up, palming his cock. He let out a small moan, his hips jerking a bit.

"Yes." He breathed. You grinned, your hand slipping past the barrier of fabric, under his boxer briefs to grasp his cock in your palm. His breath hitched as you began stroking. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"I think about you too. You're so-" You cut yourself off, kissing him as if you'd been holding yourself back and couldn't help it anymore. "adorable, I can't fucking help myself. Every time you wear one of those-" You press another bruising kiss to his lips. "fucking sweater vests, I just wanna-" Another kiss. "rip it off you." He whimpered against your lips.

"Are you being serious?" He asks, pulling away to look into your eyes. He couldn't believe someone like you was actually into him like that.

"Spencer, I'm dead serious." You said, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, catching the precum that dribbled from the top and spreading it down his length. You pulled his pants down enough to free him from his confines, slowly jerking him off.

You moved your kisses to his neck, the skin feeling warm under your lips. He breathed out shakily, a moan slipping past his mouth. You pulled away from him, shuffling further down the bed and bending down until your lips meet the tip of his cock.

He gasps as you take him into your mouth, taking as much as you can before pulling back up. You take a deep breath through your nose, sinking down again, taking more of him until he hits the back of your throat.

Your head bobs up and down as he whimpers, trembling underneath you. His hand finds your hair, grasping tightly, making you moan, the vibrations on his cock making him jerk.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm close." He whines, his head falling back. His hips jerk up and you move your hands up, holding him down against the bed. You swirl your tongue around the head, and Spencer lets out a high pitched moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!" Seconds later hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. You swallow it down greedily, hollowing out your cheeks as you drain every last drop.

You pull off his length, a trail of spit following as you lift your head to grin at him. His eyes are closed, strands of hair falling over his forehead. You brush it back, him blinking up at you blearily.

"You're... you're so..." He trails off, staring up at you with wide heart eyes. You chuckled, your hand trailing his jaw.

"So what?"

"Perfect. I can't believe you like me." He breathes and you laugh incredulously.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Cause you're you. You're... flawless."

"So are you." He scoffs, shaking his head and your eyes widen. "You are! Do you need me to show you?" You asked, your hands trailing up his thighs, making him shudder.

"I don't..." You chuckled as his breath hitches. You lean down, pressing your lips to his.

"Ready for round two?"

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