#it was a good excuse to practice side profiles

[velvetrambles]

This is just the plot of the game right (Original)

[sleep-0-deprived]

Dom! Yan professor x himbo reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა

Just imagining your biology professor being a total hard ass, rude and unkind to every student he’s ever had and giving out the most excessive amounts of homework daily, as soon as he met you something sinister had awoken inside him. The way you’d smile at him all stupid wearing shorts that showed to much and jogging pants that let him see the side profile of your cock during the first day of meeting you had this man losing it.

Just imagining you staying back after your college classes, you being freshly twenty three and scraping by if not failing every class you took, only making it to college on a sports scholarship with you staring and blinking at your professor all class. Yandere professor, just imagining him watching you from the corner of his eye the whole class, his hands moving on auto pilot only able to think about you and how you blink dumbly at him while he teaches making him speak up “is something wrong Mr L/n?”

Just imagining you getting stuck after class in tutoring sessions all hours of the day because he claims “I’m just trying to help you achieve better [name]” he’d utter those words so sincerely it would keep you oblivious while he stares at your ass and your pecs, bitting his lips when you lean in your chair showing him the perfect peak of your body having this man insane having to excuse himself for a moment during your sessions while he goes and “fixes” the situation between his legs.

Just imagining Yandere professor who rubs up against you grabbing and touching your body all over at any chance he gets with close proximity, slowly over time building trust off of his age and status, him pushing mid forties and freshly divorced. Just imagining him bringing up chats about his golden retriever just to twist your oblivious trust into something else, making you feel special whilst he gives you all the attention you could ever dream of with the intent of getting you all to himself wanting to possess and keep you like a boy toy.

Just imagining Yandere professor who asks you for “favors” claiming he’d make sure you passed all your classes, that you’d never have to worry about losing your scholar ship. He’d have your face in his crotch with your mouth wide open engulfing his cock all flushed in the face with teary eyes holding his thighs. Oh how he almost felt sorry for those poor girls that drooled after you during your games….almost, but having your mouth stuffed full of cock asking “am I doin good E’nough f’you sherr” while you soured your words with spit making slurping sounds just trying to please a good grade out of him.

Just imagining Yandere professor who does random dorm checkups on you, making you stay over at his apartment the nights your frat bros throw parties, not standing for the thought of some sorority girl getting her manicured hands on you, you were His and he’d fuck you so good that you knew it. Two glasses of wine later sitting in his apartment with your hand gripping the counters in shambles “s-ir!” All you can repeat over and over is his name speaking it like a prayer to your messiah feeling a drunken man going at it fucking you so hard the sounds start buzzing together and the over head light in his kitchen blurs under your pupils.

Just imagining Yandere professor who had your legs spread wide open sitting leaned back on his desk eating your ass out like a starving man. Gripping your skin and kissing your pucker, practically making out with your rim and letting you ramble on cluelessly about your plays and strategies, whining about how “the coach is placing me as Qb this year!” While you grip the back of your professors head looking down at him just blinking and getting comfy when you see him having no intentions of letting you go since him being able to work your body and play with you however he liked was part of the “conditions”

Just imagining your grades going from a fifties and forties across the boards to becoming a straight A+ student having all of your friends asking how you managed to swindle that, having your fiends wanting to know your secret while one of them asks “all those time you’ve been ditching, you must be going off to secretly study huh!” Your closest buddy just laughs and nudges you during practice unable to tell him that you’ve been whoring yourself out to the most hated teacher on campus.

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[deanscherrypie420]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A/N: Hi! This was third most requested on the poll! I hope you guys enjoy, it took me forever to think of a story OMG!

Characters: BAU Team, Reader Y/N

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Reader

Warnings: Soft!Dom Aaron, description of crime scenes, antagonizing, sensitive neck area, implied smut but no actual, teasing, lots of kissing towards the end, pretty cute ending, praise kink, spitting (spits into her mouth once), getting interrupted (they were just kissing, don't worry), (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After getting on your new boss's bad-side, you face his irritation throughout your case. When you get back, however, it seems he's a better profiler than you thought.

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It was her first official day at the Bureau. She had been training alongside a different team for a few weeks before being sent to work with the BAU.

When she entered the conference room, she was greeted by a woman in a dashingly bright outfit. "Hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU. You're the new agent, right?"

Y/N nodded and shook her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "Hi, yeah. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." She stated simply, pulling out a chair to sit down. Penelope stepped out of the room for a moment, calling the rest of the team in.

One by one, they all piled in. Two other women came to shake her hand and she declined, passing it off with a joke. They didn't seem to mind, sitting down beside her and engaging in small talk.

The last person to come in was an older man dressed in a nice suit, clean cut black hair and dark brown eyes. She perked up, recognizing him immediately.

SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit chief.

"Y/L/N, good to finally meet you. We've heard great things." He complimented, reaching out to shake her hand. She gave a sharp smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Thanks, unfortunately I can't say the same about you." She set her hand on top of his, gently pushing it down to decline his offer. He noticeably stiffened, and the room filled with tension. "Excuse me?" He questioned, brows knitted tight together.

"I mean, you're practically a rogue agent. You're constantly under the microscope," She shook her head with a quiet laugh, "And from what I hear, you've always been off the rails, even with a stick up your ass."

Before Aaron could respond, Garcia interrupted, getting into the grimy details of a murder in Colorado. After the brief, everyone exited the room, leaving Y/N and Hotchner in the room alone.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing tight as he leaned in behind her. "I advise you to stay in your lane. Keep that dirty little mouth of yours shut." He whispered in her ear.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, heat rising to her cheeks. He patted her on the back before stepping out, returning to his office to collect his to-go bag.

She stood up and grabbed her bag from beneath her, already prepared for her first day. When she made it to the jet, she claimed a seat next to the blonde woman, who she vaguely remembered as Jennifer.

"Rogue agent, huh?" The older man in front of her asked. She studied him, his fingers in a triangle shape resting on the table, grey hair blooming within his black strands.

She grinned and nodded, leaning back into her chair. "I can't repeat what I've heard?" She prodded, tapping her foot on the ground. She knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she didn't care.

As if he read her mind, he hunched forward and reciprocated her smirk. "Not if you want to last longer than day one. You may have heard some interesting things about Aaron, but I'm sure you've also heard that he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. Especially not from beginners."

She swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on her. She tried to think of a witty response, something to drag her out of the pit she was in. Her brain paused when the same hand from before ruffled her hair, a stiff smile on Aaron's face. "I'm sure it was a mistake on her part. Right, Y/N?"

She nearly choked, reaching up to fix her hair. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She croaked out, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Rossi just shook his head and 'tsked' in disapproval.

After another quick conversation about the case, Aaron paired everyone up. "Morgan, JJ, you check out the body. Rossi, Prentiss and Reid, set up with local PD."

After not addressing her, she raised a brow. She turned to face him, an annoyed look on her features. "What about me?" She questioned, and he gave her a smug grin.

"You're with me. We'll examine the crime scene." Was all he said, turning his attention back to the file. She slumped in her chair, glaring at Morgan when she heard him chuckle.

Dammit.

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"So what do you see?" He quizzed her, motioning towards the crimson stained kitchen. She studied it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought.

"Rage fueled kill. Blood painted on the walls, clearly over-kill. He doesn't like authority figures, this is the third he's killed this week." She explained and he scoffed.

"You aren't projecting, are you?" He asked her, and she froze. "What do you mean?" Her fists balled up, biting her lip to withhold any rude remarks she might let slip.

"You have issues with figures of authority. You tried to embarrass me in front of my team, and the whole drive here you ignored everything I've had to tell you." He stepped closer to her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"If I had to guess I'd assume parental issues. You have a sharp tongue, a defense mechanism to keep people at arms reach. Should I keep going?" He had a stern, yet calm look in his eyes. She bit her cheek and pondered, unsure how to respond.

"You're uncomfortable." He noted and she raised a brow. "Am not. You're not as intimidating as you think, Aaron." She snapped back, and he stepped even closer, his face mere inches away.

"I didn't say intimidated, but thank you for letting me know that's how I make you feel." He smiled down at her, making her stomach churn. She turned on her heel and hurried out, slamming the front door behind her.

He chuckled and shook his head, walking out behind her. "Where are you going?" He asked and she crossed her arms, stopping at the end of the road. "Away from you." She muttered and he stopped a few feet in front of her.

"You're acting like a child. Get in the car, now." She huffed and brushed past him, ramming her shoulder into his as she went. He had to hold back from grabbing her and slamming her onto the car.

She slid into the passenger seat, throwing her feet up on the dash and sinking her teeth into their spot in her cheek. Aaron got into the driver seat and stared at her.

"I understand this is your way of defiance, but it's not amusing. Legs down." He ordered and she unwillingly obeyed. "Sorry." She spat, sarcasm creeping in her tone.

"Being a brat isn't gonna work for you, not with me at least." He warned her and she barely nodded, glancing over at him. She didn't know why, but she kind of liked it when he talked to her like this.

However, she couldn't help but want the softer side of him too. He felt her staring as he drove to the local police department, finding it cute when he looked at he and she turned away.

"You're a lot more shy than I expected." He told her, making her look away again. "Pardon?" She croaked, heat rushing up her neck. He set his hand down on her knee and his thumb rubbed circles against it.

"Nothing, just keep your act together."

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After the case, Y/N was waiting in Aarons office. They had tension all throughout the trip, getting her in trouble and now having to have a mandatory "behavioral conversation."

When he entered the office, he closed the door quietly and turned to face her. His face was stone cold, unreadable and harsh. She bit her lip and fidgeted in her lap, picking at her nailbeds.

He sat down in front of her and cleared his throat. "Is this what you wanted?" He questioned her, catching her off guard. "I don't understand?" She responded, her tone rising at the end a bit too high for her liking.

"I'm a profiler, Y/N. It's my job to study behavior. What did you think you would get by throwing tantrums?" His words made her squirm, understanding what he was referring to.

She didn't respond, looking down at her legs and trying not to drown in humiliation. He chuckled and stood up, making his way behind her. He slowly started to knead her shoulders, earning a quiet gasp from her lips.

"I know, Sweetheart. You just want to be a good girl, yeah?" He cooed, adding more pressure and making her moan. She nodded and squeezed her thighs together. "Th-this is inappropriate." She mumbled between quiet groans and he smiled down at her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"You don't seem to care about what's appropriate or not, don't start pretending now." He whispered and she melted, her hands clawing at her knees.

His thumbs pressed into her neck, pressing nerves within and making her recoil, an unexpected moan bellowing out of her. He quirked a brow and raised one of his hands around the back of her neck.

"Well, that was interesting." He remarked before squeezing down on the pressure points, forcing her to curl up, such an intense reaction from such a little gesture.

Incoherent whimpers and whines escaped her lips, her hand buried between thighs as she tried to gain friction. He chuckled and shook his head. "Needy girl."

He jerked her head back, forcing another moan out of her. Her mouth hung open, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. He loomed over her, spitting into her mouth.

He took his hand away from her neck and spun her chair around, crouching down in front of her with a small smile. "Swallow, pretty girl."

She obeyed, nodding mindlessly as she did. He kissed the top of her knee and then stood up, gesturing for her to do the same. He cupped her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Go to your office, get all your paperwork done, and then come meet me back here." He looked so comforting, and he felt that way too. "Okay.. I can do that." She spoke barely above a whisper, still flustered from the situation.

He smiled and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She wanted more, but didn't say anything, just carefully pulled away and walked towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and brought her back to him, her chest flushed with his. "Use your words." He prompted her, and she bit her lip, a small smile of her own growing.

"Kiss me, please."

He leaned down and their lips met, a slow but passionate kiss. His hands slid around her waist and he crossed his wrists above her hips, bringing her impossibly closer.

Her hands cupped his cheeks and he smiled, the warm feeling of her palms making his shoulders relax.

Suddenly, Penelope and Emily barged through the door, David, JJ and Morgan not far behind them. "Dinner at Rossi's-" Penelope started in a cheery voice, but froze when she saw them.

Quickly, Y/N broke away from Hotch, her back to him as she smiled awkwardly. Emily's jaw was practically on the floor, and Garcia gasped.

"Oh my," She whispered, and Morgan glanced over her shoulder, quickly catching on to the situation. "Aaron. Hotchner. Gettin' some lovin' from the newbie is not something I expected." He teased and Y/N felt her face warming, something she was getting used to now at the BAU.

"Guys, it's not-" Aaron started but was quickly cut off by JJ. "This was not something I had on my bingo card this year." She joked as she sped away with Reid, who was quickly mumbling some facts about business hook-ups.

Following in suit, Penelope grabbed the door handle and apologized repeatedly. "Just come find us when you two are done." She said quickly as she slammed the door.

Aaron leaned down and snaked an arm around her, pulling her closer once more. "We'll catch up on this later." He said as he kissed her temple.

"Do I still have to do my paperwork?" She asked in a fake-innocent voice. "Absolutely," He said before leaving soft, bruising kisses down her neck. "But you can wait until tomorrow."

She rested her head back on his chest, breathy moans parting her lips. "That's not fair. I should get special privileges now." She pleaded and he sunk his teeth into her neck, making her gasp.

"You're a smart girl, you can do a little bit of work. I'll even reward you if you do a good job." He teased, squeezing her hip with his free hand. She giggled and moved his face up to kiss him, their lips easily melting together.

"Hurry up you two! This is Y/N's first cooking lesson!" Garcia yelled through the door. Hotch let out a quiet groan as he finally pulled away, placing a few more quick kisses all over the side of her face.

She giggled and hollered back, "We're coming!" He gave a playful tap to her ass and she waited for him to grab his coat before leaving. "I didn't expect that sleeping with my boss would make my co-workers like me so much." She joked and he raised his brows suggestively, collecting his stuff from beside the desk.

"We haven't slept together yet, but that's a great idea for dessert."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I finished this at three AM so I'm sorry if its a bit rushed or messy. This is my first Hotch fic so it took me a bit longer to get a decent idea.

Feel free to send in requests! <3 Like, comment, and follow :)

[linos-luna]

Yandere Stray Kids Profiles 🔪

My headcannons for Yandere Skz.

—————————— 🔪 ——————————

Bang Chan

Manipulative and controlling

Chan doesn’t need to hurt you. He can charm you into doing whatever he wants. He can control who you talk to or where you go and you wouldn’t even realize it. He love bombs you and hits all your insecurities. On the rare chance that he does get mad, he’ll punish you by a spanking. But he apologizes afterwards and makes you believe you deserved it.

• He’s so sweet and loving

.• gives you everything you could ever want.

• spoils you and tells you nice things.

• he has successfully cut off your friends and family. But you don’t know that. He says they abandoned you.

• you might develop Stockholm Syndrome

• he’s all you need.

• Always gaslighting you

• you call him Daddy.

• A rule he’s very strict about

• He’ll spank you if you make him mad.

• and make you explain what you did wrong

• then tell you it hurt him more than you.

• and you believe him. He’s so loving! How could you make him so angry?

“Daddy is very disappointed in you…”

“Why would you do that, babygirl?”

“Whatever you want, I’ll buy it for you!”

“Do you want daddy to touch you? To make you feel good?”

“Daddy would never hurt you.”

Minho

Unhinged but controlling

Unhinged is putting it lightly. He loves you desperately and believes you love him too. Unlike Chan, he is not so subtle when controlling you. He loves being in control. And he’s not afraid to hurt you.

• He’ll snap at you at random.

• obsessed with everything you do

• rarely lets you go out but when you do, he always stalks you.

• rules he expects you to follow

- call him oppa

- kisses everday!

- wear only what he wants you to wear

- NO talking back…

• He WILL punish you

• lock you in the closet or spank you

• actually, he looks for any excuse to do so

• He loves to bend you over his lap and spank you, making you count each one

Changbin

Violent… sometimes unintentional

Changbin is very short tempered. Being with him is like walking on eggshells: but he doesn’t want to hurt you. Not at all! But sometimes he fails to realize his strength.

• He just wants you by his side all the time

• Always hold his hand in public

• or else he’ll pull you close.

• might dislocate your shoulder.

• but he doesn’t mean it!

• but sometimes you make him snap and he’ll yell or slam fists on the table.

• you better hide before you end up in his crossfire

• He will spank you you as a last resort

“Come here, why are you so distant?”

“Why did you make me hurt you?!”

“Im sorry that I love you so much!”

“You make me crazy.”

Hyunjin

Delusional and hopeless romantic

Hyunjin believes you are soulmates. He believes you are the love of his life and wants to please you. Rather than facing reality, he rather stay in this delusion…

• desperate for you

• cherishes and practically worships you

• not very violent but immediately remorseful if he hurts you

• will do everything for you

• you don’t even have to walk

• but you can’t go out without him, even in the backyard

• keeps you away from windows

• can’t taint your skin to the sun rays!

• easily jealous

• writes you poems and makes you are

“Sorry! Sorry! Darling, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“You’re the love of my life!”

“Anything for you, love.”

Han

Psychotic and Craves attention 24/7

He’s very needy and constantly wants your attention. If you don’t give it to him, he get mad- no. Furious. How dare you reject him. You’re supposed to love him! I mean, he takes care of you right?

• give him all your attention!

• never mention another boy around him!

• even if it’s like a brother or cousin

• if you don’t give him attention, he’ll get very accusatory

• He’ll think you’re cheating!

• then he gets crazy

• starts speaking nonsense

• and getting violent.

“Why did you leave?? Were you cheating??”

“Noona, who are you talking to?”

“Hey! Get off your phone! Love me!”

“Cheater! How dare you!”

Felix

Subby yandere?

Felix acts like an innocent boy. There’s no way he’s bad. He just wants you to love him and take care of him. But sometimes he gets angry and loses his composure.

• Wants you to be with him all the time. Why would you leave him?

• he’d never hurt you right?

• well if he loses composure, then he will.

• he wants to be your cute subby boy…

• for you to love him and cuddle

• and if you break that he’ll get angry.

• He’ll throw a fit and kick and punch

• Play along if you wanna keep the peace

“No that’s not right! I thought you loved me!”

“Don’t leave me, I’m sowwy 🥺”

Seungmin

Stotic and unpredictable

It’s a little unnerving how calm Seungmin can be. You’re never sure what exactly he’s going to do at any given moment. Sometimes he’s fine, but then he’s yelling at you.

• he’s obsessed with you but doesn’t outwardly show it

• gives you lots of rules

• some you didn’t even know were rules until he gets mad

• he likes making you nervous

• likes controlling you

• hates when you don’t listen

• will suddenly yell in your face.

• threatens you with violence but won’t actually do it

• but then be calm and want to cuddle

“Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

“Did I say you were allowed to talk to her?”

“Bad girl!!”

“Sit down!”

“C’mon baby, let’s go lay down and watch movies ☺️”

Jeongin

Manipulative

Jeongin knows he’s cute. He knows you find him adorable. So he uses that to his advantage. He’ll get you to do anything he wants.

• He would prevent you from going to see family or friends by coincidentally getting hurt

• Your baby is in pain! You must help him!

• constantly injures him actually

• will do anything for your attention

• Says your friend is mean to him. Of course you believe him! Maybe she’s jealous. No need to see her anymore.

“Noona! Where are you going? My stomach hurts. I think I’m sick.”

“I missed you all day. Why don’t you spend time with me?”

“I didn’t mean it, noona! I’m sorry!” 🥺

[s4turns-st4rs]

hiiiihiiiihiiihiiihhihihihican u pls pls plssss write about ben shelton and a pretty tennis player fem reader who's rlly good at tennis esp for her height bc shes quite short and she's kinda cheeky and playful and sort of has ben whipped for her like wherever she is, he's there trying to talk to her and shes popular and stuff pls this is such a cute n funny idea you can write as much as you want pls im BEGGINGGG

my rose coloured boy

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒a ben shelton oneshot ﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: this is SOSOSOOO cute thank you for the request oh my godddd AND it was so much fun to write anon you’re a genius. accidentally made it a bit angsty, but ofc there’s a happy ending. anyway enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

in which: ben is desperate for your attention, whether you like it or not.

words: 1.1k

request: anon!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: take a chance on me - abba

you exited the changing rooms of the centre court of roland garros, accompanied by your friend and fellow tennis player, coco guaff. your bag was slung over your shoulder as you used your towel to wipe your face down, attempting in vain to rid yourself of the post-match mental rollercoaster. but you knew coco’s charming stories always kept you from overthinking. at least for a moment, anyway.

as you spoke to her, giggling and gossiping, a familiar voice reached your ears, his perfect florida accent already making your heart beat faster.

“oi, shortie!”

“hm? oh, hey ben.” you said, immediately recognising the nickname, as you turned to face your fellow tennis player, looking up at the taller man.

he smiled at the sheer sight of you, running a hand through his unruly mop of curls. “you played well today.” he said with a sweet grin, admiring you, despite the beads of sweat that stayed stubbornly on your forehead and the loose ponytail your hair had been haphazardly thrown into.

“i lost.” you said, in a failed attempt at sounding nonchalant, depsite the loss’ effect on you.

“and?” he said, his unfairly long eyelashes fluttering in mock innocence. “i still think you played well.” he added as he joined the two of you as you walked towards the car park.“besides,” he continued, quietly admiring your side profile. “you always play well.”

“yeah. you’re a top 10 player for a reason, y’know.” coco chimed in, giving you a little elbow in the ribs.

“exactly.” ben said, nodding wisely as he spoke. “anyone would be blessed to play against you, whether you win or lose.”

after managing a few more moments of ben’s over exaggerated praise, coco made some hasty excuse about her dog, clearly keen to avoid third wheeling the two of you any longer. you and ben stood in silence as you watched her hurry away, probably to gossip with frances tiafoe and taylor fritz about the horrendously obvious flirting she’s just endured.

“… you don’t have to compliment me, y’know.” you say, as the silence became uncomfortable and almost claustrophobic.

“what? coco and i are just—” he started, before you cut him off.

“no, i mean, you. every time you speak to me, it’s like you compliment me every time there’s a second of silence.”

“… oh.” ben said quietly, looking at you sheepishly. “do you … not like it?”

“well, yeah … but after a while, it just feels … fake.”

“… oh.” he said again. he was silent for a moment, like he couldn’t manage to say anything else, like a broken record. “… sorry.” he managed eventually, his singular word almost a whisper, his eyes trained firmly on his sneakers, gently scuffing the tips on the car park road.

“no, don’t apologise.” you say quickly, scrambling for a way to wipe the sad, pouty look off his face that practically broke your heart. “i love when you compliment me, i just … don’t want you to feel like you have to give me praise all the time, y’know?”

he looked back at you bashfully. “… well, as long as you don’t find it annoying.” he said, before his pout turned into a smug smile. “then i can give you as many compliments as i want.”

you almost let out a sigh of relief at the return of his signature lopsided grin, and laughed a bit at his proud tone. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.” he said, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “gonna give you all the compliments in the world.”

you laugh again at his toddler-like stubbornness. “i’d like to see you try.” you said, mocking him by crossing your arms in the same smug action.

he let out a deep laugh at your response. “well, be prepared, because you’re about to be showered in praise like you’ve never been before.”

he made a dramatic show of stretching his arms, cracking his knuckles, before suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, and lifting you up into his arms. he hooked an arm underneath your knees, now holding you bridal style in the middle of an empty car park.

“oi, ben!” you nearly screeched as he smiled innocently at you. “what, my love?” he said, the pet name rolling of his tongue before he could stop it. he seemed to realise what he said, going a deep shade of red as you felt his arms tense underneath you. he stilled for a moment, looking practically mortified.

you smile at his embarrassment, despite having equally red cheeks. “what happened? thought you were going to shower me with compliments, my love?” you tease, turning the pet name back on him with a smirk.

your words seem to snap him out of a trance, and he looked at you with a grin. “oh, you don’t even know what’s coming.”

he fixed his grip around your waist, before announcing loudly to the empty surrounds. “i love your eyes. i love your smile. i love the way you laugh. i love the music you listen to, even if it sucks. i love the ribbons you wear in your hair. i love the way you scream when you score an important point during a match.” he started smugly, and began placing gentle kisses to your face to punctuate each point.

“i love the way you dress.” a kiss to your left cheek.

“i love how short you are.” a kiss to your right cheek.

“i love your handwriting.” a kiss to your forehead.

“i love how passionate you are about stupid, small things that don’t matter.” a kiss to your chin.

”i love watching you play tennis.” a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“okay, my music does not suck, and i am not short, and—” you began in protest, before ben interrupted you by pressing his lips to yours. finally.

ben kissed you gently, like he was worried you’d pull away, but you pulled him closer to you, desperately letting the feeling of the kiss consume you.

after what get like an eternity, you both gently spilt apart, leaving the two of you breathless and gasping for air.

“… well, now i’m going to have to give you the same amount of compliments.” you managed after a moment, your words still breathy and forced.

ben let a cheesy smile grace his face at your words, a soft giggle escaping him. “it’s okay, shortie.” he said, looking down at you, still held close in his arms. “we’ve got time.”

[prentissluvr]

worth it — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x gn!bau!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : passing mention of canon typical death and violence, poor editing as always ➖⟢ wc : 1.8K

to forget your warm jacket while working a case in a small maine town on the cusp of autumn is an incredibly stupid thing to do for someone who gets cold easily. this means that you have done something stupid, and as a grown adult who catches serial killers for a living, it’s not your proudest moment. to be fair, you’ve only left it in your go bag at the lodge and will have it for tomorrow, but the chilly air as you travel from the police precinct to the coroners to the crime scene is really starting to get to you.

it’s a horrible thought, but you wonder why the unsub had to shoot its victims outside, rather than somewhere inside with a nice and toasty heating system. matt and jj are at the first crime scene; you’re paired with luke at the second, a spot on the edge of the woods where you’re exposed to the cold wind of the dreary afternoon.

you thought you could survive until you got back into the suv to blast its heat, but that was before it got windy. now, you’ve got your arms adamantly folded across your chest, trying your best to keep closed the poor excuse of a layer that your thin suit jacket is. you’re so cold that you only have the capacity to think about that and exactly one other thing. for the moment, your one other thing is surveying the crime scene for anything you could use to build up the profile.

your eyes and mind are so focused on the details of the landscape ahead of you that luke’s presence has faded to a blip of information that you’re no longer factoring into your surroundings. that’s why, when you feel the brush of fabric and solid hands on your shoulders, you startle a little.

the sound of luke’s light-hearted laugh coming from right behind you hits your ears, and he must be tilting his head to the side, because it’s louder in your right ear than your left.

“didn’t mean to scare you,” he teases, though he lets a bit of sincerity drip into his voice as well. his hands stay right where they are, sure and warm on each of your shoulders. if this was one of your daydreams, he’d tug you back and into his chest, maybe reach around to kiss your cheek. but this is very much not one of your daydreams; you’re at work and not supposed to be romantically involved with him in any way, shape, or form, no matter how much you’d like to be. 

“you’re practically freezing to death, and you wouldn’t be much help in solving the case that way,” luke quips and you roll your eyes.

“so much for being a gentleman by giving me your jacket,” you complain, lighthearted and quick to play along with his teasing, as always. unfortunately, the friendly banter is one of your many favorite things about him. despite your complaint, you tug the jacket tighter around your form, tucking your arms into the sleeves and relishing in the left-over warmth from his own body heat. you register that he’s handed you the padded jacket he had on underneath his fbi layer and smile to yourself. no matter what you say, he absolutely is a gentleman.

luke’s hand lingers on your back for a moment as he slips away, and you already miss the heat that his hands and proximity provided. more than that, you miss him being so close.

“thanks,” you smile, before he can go too far.

“of course,” he smiles back, all sincerity this time. he cares for you well, and it’s all just because he’s just plain old good. a good coworker, an even better friend, and the best at making you want more.

luke doesn’t ask for the jacket back, not when the sun dips lower on the horizon and even the heated precinct starts feeling a little cold. he couldn’t care less about that; he just wants to see you wearing his clothes for as long as he can get away with it.

after a long first day, emily sends the team to the little town lodge that you’re staying at to get some rest. it’s a far more intimate set-up than you’re used to, with the nine of you as the only guests. on the short car ride there, reid tells you embarrassing stories about a time about ten years ago when they had a case in alaska and they stayed in a similar lodge. 

you’ve become so used to the feel of luke’s jacket that you forget to return it to him as you enter the cabin-style building and head to your shared room with jj. only when you pull out more comfortable night clothes do you remember that you’re still wearing it.

with the garment draped over your arm, you tell jj that you’re going to sit by the fire in the common room downstairs, and you’re sent off with raised eyebrows and a teasing stare.

it’s not as if jj doesn’t know about your crush on luke. for being in a team of profiles, you’re a lot less subtle than you should be, maybe because you know that no amount of subtlety would prevent at least the most experienced of them from figuring it out. so, you send her a cheeky grin despite the heat that’s suddenly found its way to your cheeks and head down the stairs.

you weren’t lying to jj when you said you were going to sit by the fire; it’s something you actually wanted to do. plus, you’re still figuring out how you’re going to get back luke’s jacket without doing it all in front of his own roommate, spencer, whom you’re sure is also privy to your feelings without you ever having discussed them with him. which means that sitting by the fire and thinking—or more accurately coined, avoiding—is the perfect solution to you. even better, you also don’t have to part with the now intimately familiar garment quite yet.

instead, the padded jacket sits warm on your lap, folded up all nice for when you finally give it back. you stick your hands out to take in more heat from the fire and sigh in relief at the feeling. your short moment of bliss is interrupted by footsteps and the creaking of the old wooden steps behind you, but you don’t move even as you hear whoever it is moving closer. it’s when they approach and sit in the other chair beside you that you look in their direction. you’re greeted by luke’s warm brown eyes that reflect the firelight and his over exaggerated “ahh” as he sits.

“would you look at that? just the man i set out to find,” you say in greeting. “didn’t even have to go looking! you came right to me,” you smile triumphantly. “here’s your jacket.”

luke puts out a hand, but not to accept the garment. he shakes his head and pushes it back toward you. “no, you keep it. it just get’s colder this week, i checked the forecast. besides, it looks–”

“absolutely not!” you interrupt, opting to forego formalities and just throw the coat at him. he catches it with a surprised chuckle. “i have my own jacket, i just forgot it today and i doubt you have an extra one of those stashed away for yourself! and i swear to god, if you were about to pull a ‘it looks better on you,’ i just might have to punch you.”

he laughs again, full and unabashed. his laugh makes you proud that you said something funny enough for him and makes you cry a little inside because you’re sort of in love with him.

“that’s intent to assault a federal officer, they could arrest you for that, you know.”

“not before i wreck your sorry ass, alvez,” you say, barely holding back the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him. “besides, how would it look if I wore your jacket all case long when i have a perfectly good one of my own?”

luke considers for a moment. “like you’re madly in love with me?” he decides on with a wicked grin.

you scoff in response, but it’s far less smooth than it should have been. “you wish!” you retort, a little messy and not your most clever response due to your flustered state. then, you pull yourself together. “no, it’ll look like i’m abusing my power as a better agent to make you suffer and force you into giving me all of your nice things,” you say primly.

“better agent?” luke laughs, not at all offended. “where’d that idea come from?”

“oh, luke, you poor man. it’s not an idea, just the truth!” you grin, mock sympathy threaded through your teasing words.

luke puts his hands up in surrender. “alright, alright, whatever you say!”

you hum, satisfied by that answer, “that’s right.” luke almost always lets you win your fake arguments.

the lack of something to say earns you a long silent moment, soft and taken up by the crackle of the warm fire. you let your eyes drift closed as you soak in the comfort of the heat and the feel on luke’s gaze on you. he’s not paying attention to the fire, he’s got every sense trained on you and the curve of your nose, your hands resting on your knees, and the subtle ways your features change from moment to moment due to the shifting light of the fire.

sometimes you catch or feel him looking at you like that, and it makes you question. he doesn’t look at anyone else like that, at least not to your knowledge, and it sort of feels like the way that you look at him. and you have a massive crush on him, so you’re not quite sure what that means. for the moment, you decide not to overthink it, just to let it be, to let him soak you up the way you do with the warmth of the fire and let yourself like it. he makes you feel seen instead of watched, appreciated instead of simply perceived.

luke only speaks once your eyes drift back open. he himself has been busy drinking up the sight of you, relaxed and warm and comfortable. to him, that’s a precious sight.

“you sure you won’t need this?” he asks, voice genuine and void of teasing this time around. “i can spare it.”

“i’m sure, luke,” you smile at him, trying to show him how sweet you think it is that he offered. “thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles back, trying to show you how sweet he thinks you are. luke decides that, when the time is right, he’s not going to hold back for the sake of professionalism or formality. and he knows that decision is going to make many things complicated, but he knows that it’ll be worth it. you’ll always be worth it, whatever it is.

[jensensitive]

I am obsessed with the way in which you draw Dean. You have his features nailed to perfection - somehow your Dean looks even more Dean than Dean in the show, because you exaggerate everything that makes him HIM. It's truly breathtaking <3 Any advice on how to get those features so flawless?

This is so so nice, thank you so much 😭💕💕💕

Honestly Dean is like my go-to thing to draw basically, and has been for many years, like I have to try to refrain myself from just drawing Dean again sometimes. He's like probably half of how I've learned to draw at all. So there's definitely practice there.

That said, I did not immediately have much of answer to this. It's like, his face is just his perfect, beautiful face, and then I try to draw that. 😅

So I drew some Dean to figure out what it is I do, so thanks for the excuse to draw more Dean lol

Extensive answer under the cut

If you're drawing something realistic from reference, for Dean you kind of have two options, you can either get a screencap that's closer up so you can see details better, but the top of his head is cut off, or you can get one where you can see less details but his whole torso is in frame. It can be weirdly difficult to guess at where the top of his head is sometimes, and you don't need details to capture a likeness, I think it was Sargent that said that the shape of the head is actually the most important aspect in capturing a likeness, so it's something to keep in mind. On the other hand, if you want to look at his pretty eyelashes while you draw him, you might want something closer up. (An understandable impulse).

Another thing is just to look for a reference that you really like, contrasty light and shadow are also great to look for. It's difficult to create a great drawing without them, but also it will illustrate the structure of his head best too. Look for shadow shapes you want to draw. If a reference is too dark (as it often is, because it's supernatural), edit it so you can actually see what you're drawing lmao.

I took a bunch of random screencaps of 11x02-- as random as I could, normally I'd just take screencaps of what I already kind of like, but I tried to just get all of it so you can see what I'm not choosing. (also couldn't help taking some cas ones when the lighting was going really hard)

I love a profile, I love a 3/4 view, I love when his eyes are like half open. His face was kinda giving towards the end of this episode.

Hopefully you can see them well enough. The mass ideas are more important for picking at impactful reference, but ofc I'm also trying to avoid any where he's making a dumb face or it's blurry. Sometimes that's only evident when I open it bigger, but that's okay, we have a bunch to pick from.

a. This one is one I picked out because it's an interesting angle, and I'd definitely do a little study of it, but because the lighting is so soft, it probably wouldn't be super interesting.

b. I like this one, the face he's making is hilarious, and I like the rhythm of his hand, but if I were to draw it, I might draw a fourth finger, otherwise it might look strange. So keep that in mind too, if it looks odd in the reference, it will look odd in the drawing, so unless you're confident that you can effectively change it, pick a different reference or find a second reference to help you change it.

c. This lighting's more dynamic, and I like his expression.

d. Would be hard to pick between these. This one's 3/4 and has a nice eyelash shadow, and I love the shape of his eye when it's downturned.

e. Shoutout to the shape of Jensen's brow when he looks down gotta be one of my favorite genders. + subtle Rembrandt lighting. Lovely.

f. This one is so good. Overhead lighting getting a shadow from his ear in a sideview, defining the jaw in an interesting way. Great expression. It's a bit strange, the way he's looking to the side, so it might be hard to draw convincingly, but would be worth it if I could do it. The shadow from the hair defining the shape of the brow. The light on the cheek defining the slight eyebag. The reflected light under the eye, the light landing on the nose. Would probably change the hair a bit because it looks a bit odd at this angle in this lighting, and if drawn like this it would probably look at bit block-like.

g. More rembrandt lighting. Shoutout to the shadow that this upper lip casts on his lower lip. Shoutout to the shadow his lower lip casts on his chin. Shoutout to the line of light defining his neck. Shoutout to the shape of his brow and forehead.

h. The rhythms here are chefs kiss-- the shadow line diagonal from the corner of his hairline to the corner of his brow echoed by the shadow line diagonal of his cheekbone, then that second line following through to the line of light on his neck that curves the other way.

i. This one's kinda boring wrt lighting, but it's an interesting enough angle to do a study of.

I'm going with screencap c because it's gonna work well to effectively illustrate the basic structure of how I construct his features. It's not directly straight-on, so the form isn't lost, but it's straight enough on to properly show our proportions.

For supplies here, I'm just using a soft charcoal pencil, I just use the kinda cheap ones (currently Markart) cause I actually like them better than General's. And it's on smooth newsprint. I just get it in a big thing of 500 sheets. Not archival but it's a cheap thing that's incredibly enjoyable to draw on. Pink Papermate eraser and a kneaded eraser. The pen I use at one point for some reason is a red Pentel RSVP ballpoint I think, although I actually prefer a Bic.

1. So first thing I block in that main shape, in this case, his head and shoulders. I also have to draw in the hairline at the same time, cause I can't figure it out otherwise. He's got kind of pointy ears. The collar of his jacket often comes up pretty high on the back of his neck. He's got a distinctive hairline that I think can go a long way to showing it's Dean, it's worth taking note of. It swoops to our left, and then the corner (I guess?) of his hairline will line up with the corner/arch of his brow. And don't draw the hairline as an unbroken line, but several lines with some room to breathe. His shoulders are pretty straight and broad, but about three heads across which is pretty normal.

2. Next what I think about is the shape of the eyesockets and the line of the brow. This bit will go a ways for conveying Dean's expression, because he has a wide range from light and happy to horribly scowly that's in the brows. You don't have to define the exact line of the brow at this moment, blocking in the general line is fine just to have an idea of where it lands. You can go back later and refine it. I also find where the bottom lid lands. In my brain it makes a shape like what I've drawn. I might not draw it just like this, but even if I don't, this is the shape I'm thinking about. The line from the end of his eyebrow to his bottom lid is a fave, sometimes you can see it on him, especially at an angle, and it's real pretty.

3. Next I find where the bottom of his nose lands, it's about double the length of the eyesocket. And the line under his bottom lip, about halfway between his nose and the bottom of his chin. These measurements are pretty average measurements for a face. I didn't give myself enough room for his chin initially, so I moved it down to fix it. Also adjusted his face very slightly wider on the right side, cause it's looking a bit narrow.

4. I added some of our shadow shapes. This is where finding a reference with well-defined shadows will be very helpful. And I sketched in the clothes cause why not. The clothes don't have to be perfect, who cares, Dean's collar is not our point of interest lol. The shadow on the neck will probably be slightly curved because of the roundness of the neck. If it's not, you might want to make it curve slightly anyway just to help define the form. I blocked in where the eyes are.

eyes: For Jensen's lovely eyes, they have a specific shape that is so nice to draw, especially at certain and angles and with certain expressions. But basically the top lid is more angular and can be almost boxed off at the end, and the line from the corner of the eye to the lashes is an s-curve that's higher in the middle. Again, not unusual features in drawing a face, but such pretty examples. The shadow that his lower lid casts (or his makeup idk?) is often dark enough to look vaguely like eyeliner. Jensen's lower eyelids, an underrated part of Jensen. His eyebrows are thicker in the middle and sparser on the ends.

5. Next I found the corners of the lips. This is an important aspect in the way I draw mouths. Sometimes I just draw them with dots where the corners of the lips are, a curve where the lips part in the middle, a shadow under the bottom lip, and the curve of the cupid's bow. (This is seen below in 6) I think I also adjusted the bottom lip shadow here. Straight-on, the middle of his lips is slightly higher than the corners, but of course, this will change when not straight-on, depending on if we're looking up or down at his mouth. I also sketched in the nose shape. The ridge of his nose has a nice subtle bump, and then the ball of his nose is very slightly squared off I think, from a front-facing perspective, I feel like. And I drew in his slightly drawn brows. Just pay attention to the angles in your reference, because the expression, the perspective and the angle of the head can impact it. But of course generally, drawn down in the middle, furrowed = scowly; drawn up, unfurrowed = happy.

nose: I prefer drawing his nose in profile. And who wouldn't, look at it! The slight curve of the bridge and then the ball of the nose. I will exaggerate this a little sometimes, just because it's fun and I like it. I couldn't find a reference, but from below, you can see the shape of the bottom of his nose, it dips in the middle a bit more than average. Drawing the bottom of the nose is often a delicate balance between shadow and reflected light. I love keeping it light, save for the nostrils, but then the shadow under the nose can be important too. Sometimes it's just a stylistic choice. Note that there's a plane change between the side of the nose and the cheek. (I think I drew his nose too upturned here, but the general idea is still there)

6/mouth: In drawing the mouth, the top line of the upper lip looks more rectangular at the ends, increasingly so as it turns away from us, and much less so as it turns towards us. Of course, he has a full upper lip that you can shade as you like. I try to keep it distinct from the shadow of the line of the mouth, and a reflected light on the top lip can be good here too. For the bottom lip, it's always nice to give is some shine with a hard-edge highlight. For the cupid's bow, I try to leave a light between the upper lip and the shadow in the cupid's bow. For some reason I drew the shadow backwards here, but I think it looks fine.

7/ears: I started to shade it, and then I remembered that he has ears. There's a simplified way I draw ears that I like. It's not entirely accurate, because the two shadows at the top are actually usually connected, but I find it a bit distracting that way sometimes, so this is more subtle I guess. In profile, I don't really have a method of drawing it, I just draw whatever the reference gives me or bs it with a similar version of this, depending.

8/hair: My method for drawing his hair is 1) suffer 2) hope and pray. I like to leave a rim light-type deal between the contour/outliine of the hair and the rest of the hair, I feel like it helps define it a bit more. The direction of his hair, and thus the direction of my lines is something like this.

9. And then I more or less just shaded. When shading, it's always good to follow the direction of the plane, and I also alternatively like to shade in the direction that the light is falling to reinforce that gesture, but when I shade a face, I try to shade in the opposite direction of where wrinkles would go, if that makes sense, mostly up and down I guess. This is of course on a case by case basis, like a lot of times, I'll do the forehead horizontally anyway, but it's especially touchy around where the laugh lines of the mouth would be and the neck. And on soft plane changes (and softish hard plane changes), I often shade at a different angle to the main shadow. Shading direction can also delineate different areas of similar tones, like I did with the jacket and the side of the nose. I like to give Dean his eyelash shadow, because he deserves it. I also drew in the eyes, of course. I think I actually tend to shade them backwards, and the light would fall in the opposite direction, so when lit from the right, the right side would be darker, but I just don't draw it that way idk maybe I should.

And there he is, that's our guy!

Normally when I'm drawing, I'm definitely a bit more all over the place, and don't necessarily do things in perfect order. And it's good to move around. I'm probably not going to be shading things before noting where all the features are going to land, but I often am shading something before I've drawn everything. Or end up drawing one eye and then maybe do part of the other and then move to do part of the nose and then sketch in an ear and then maybe notice something's off somewhere and adjust that, etc. Just go with it, have fun, he's got a fun face to draw! 💗

[gutsyns]

Summary: Just a drabble from my drafts. I’m convinced Dallas would probably wreck havoc in Johnnys relationships until he got to know the other person well enough or they showed enough steel to make him back off🤷🏼‍♀️ Characters are aged up a few years just bc.

-

The shop bell jingles softly, bringing your attention away from the magazine you had been idly staring at for the past twenty minutes. It was late, close to closing and the only people you were expecting to cross the doorway was either in the form of your father with late minute supplies, or trouble.

You glance down at the bat by your feet, weary, but feel yourself breath out a sigh of relief when you take in the familiar face staring back at you, sheepish, but with a small smile on his face.

Johnny puts both hands in the air, taking a small step through the threshold.

“Easy there. I come in peace.”

You’re about to laugh, greet him like you normally would, but you pause. It had been two weeks since you had seen him, practically radio silence on his end. You’d tried to call him at the Curtis’, but there always seemed to be some sort of excuse for why he couldn’t come to the phone. For awhile you had been worried. What if his folks had gotten him, hurt him real bad this time? What if he’d gotten jumped again?

Then you had seen him out with Pony and Dallas getting cokes about a week back and the message he hadn’t had the guts to tell you to your face began to come through a little bit clearer.

“Hey.” You say eventually. “I haven’t seen around you for awhile.”

“Yeah.” Johnny at least has the good grace to look chagrined as he slips behind the counter and sits down beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dally said- well Dal had mentioned you’d been hanging around a lot is all, so.”

“Huh?”

You stare at his side-profile, stunned. He won’t make eye contact, instead staring pointedly at the display of gum you had put out earlier in the day. His ears are turning a fantastic shade of red, something that, under normal circumstances was endearing, but right now was just infuriating.

“Dallas said what?”

There’s no mistaking the dumbfounded fury in your voice, but Johnny just shakes his head and, finally making eye contact, sends you a pleading stare.

“It really ain’t that big of a deal. Dal just has a hard time adjusting to new people s’all. Give ‘im some time, he’ll come around.”

You glance around the shop, waiting for someone to pop out from a corner and tell you this is all a big joke. When no such thing happens, you look back at Johnny and brace your hands against the counter, breathing heavy. You laugh softly, before scrubbing a hand across your eyes.

“I’m sorry. Are you meaning to tell me that you’ve been going out of you way to avoid me because Dallas Winston told you to?”

Johnny winces and hunches his shoulders, defensive against your anger. Normally that would be enough to make you take a deep breath and reign it in, unwilling to be anything close to a reminder of his nightmare childhood, but this is… this is just too much.

“I thought I’d done something to make you mad.” You say, voice shaking with unnamed emotion. “I thought I’d… hurt you in some way, and all this times it’s been because big bad Dal doesn’t want to share his best friend.”

You laugh again, though the situation is far from funny. Johnnys face goes blank, distant and he squares his shoulders. There’s something dangerous glinting in his dark eyes, a warning that is demanding to not be ignored, but you’re far beyond recognising red flags by this point.

“C’mon Johnny, you can’t tell me you don’t see how insane that is?”

“Now just wait a damn minute-“ Johnny starts, fire in his voice, but your father chooses that exact moment to walk through the door.

He pauses for a moment, observing the two of you. Eyes flickering back and fourth between Johnnys stiff figure and your infuriated expression. He’s weary, nodding to Johnny before seeking you out.

“Everything okay, baby?”

“Peachy.” You breath, but there’s tears pricking in your eyes.

Your fathers eyes narrow in on Johnny, clearly deciding that he’s now public enemy number one and you can see how skittish it makes the other boy. Despite your anger, it makes your heart ache a little to see the nervous energy enter him, the near inevitable way he seems to brace himself for a blow. It makes you want to flay his parents, leave their skin on the local trees as a warning to anyone that dare try to hurt him again.

But. But this time, he’s hurt you. He needs to know that.

“My father is not going to lay a hand on you.” You whisper, just low enough for the both of you to hear.

Johnnys eyes snap to yours, and there’s kinship there, right then. An understanding. His shoulders lose their tension, and you both breathe.

“Johnny was just leaving, dad.” You say, heart pounding. “He’s got a thing with his friend.”

Dark eyes snap to yours, beseeching. Desperate. He looks so sad and it makes you want to forget everything that has happened, but you can’t. You won’t be second best, won’t be reduced to a problem that Dallas Winston wants to get rid of, and one that can be dismissed so easily.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says, low, urgent, but you dismiss him.

You turn, busing yourself with the normal routine of locking down the shop. Even so, you can’t ignore how your hands shake. How your heart is beating a mile a minute. How you can feel Johnny’s stare on your back, even as you try to block him out.

“We’re closing now, son. Think it’s time to go.”

Your fathers voice is gentle, even after the ire he’d given Johnny when he’d seen the two of you fighting. You think maybe your dad understands Johnny in a way- in a way that makes you want to switch off your brain and never think about your grandparents again.

“Don’t do this.” Johnny says again, loud enough that its audible to both you and your father. He sounds unhinged, and it’s enough to make you spin around and look at him.

“I didn’t do anything, Johnny. You did. You’re a grown man, eighteen damn years of age. You chose Dallas. That’s fine. I’m not the one that made it a choice to begin with. Just don’t come weepin’ to me about the consequences.”

You spin, incensed and tear-blind, into the backroom. There’s soft murmurs, then the soft tinkling of the bell at the door.

Your fathers hand clamps down on your shoulder a moment later.

“All okay, bug?”

You can’t answer straight away, trying to fight back the tears. Even though you’d told him to leave, wanted him to leave even, it was still disappointing that he did.

“I’m fine.” You whisper, voice breaking.

And when your father pulls you in for a hug, you feel so incredibly small and young. The tears spill over without permission and you bury your head in your fathers shoulder, desperately wishing you had never heard of that damned, stupid gang in the first place.

[hana-no-seiiki]

COMME ON FAIT SON LIT, ON SE COUCHE.

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ PAIRING: YAN! NEUVILETTE x SCUM! READER (ft. yan! other characters + mystery major pairing)

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈𝐈. ✧ TW/CW: Typical Yandere Themes: Stalking, Delulu, Yun’s vv broken French. Canon Divergence.

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈𝐈𝐈. ✧ SYNOPSIS: When given the power to flood the world with your admirer’s tears and skip work, who were you to reject it? | This happens prior to the Archon Quest

dedicated for le sims ( @o-tears-o-tides ) , aka the object of my platonic love and affection. happy birthday employee!!

Fucking with Neuvilette was your lifestyle. Figuratively that is. You wanted him to work harder if you were to provide him with the more literal definition of the term but regardless —

— making him suffer was your favorite hobby.

You held the prestigious role of documenter at the esteemed Palais Mermonia, where the dramatic tale of "Furina's Courtroom Crying Sessions" unfolded under the watchful eye of Neuvilette. In addition to chronicling these legal theatrics, your literary talents blossomed, weaving novels and insightful commentaries based on the trials you meticulously transcribed. This dual creative and professional endeavor earned you a devoted following throughout Teyvat and established influential connections with prominent figures across the nation.

Your relationship with Monsieur Neuvilette started off differently than what many would assume. Those privy to your early interactions could discern an undeniable enchantment on your part towards this man. Undoubtedly, he exuded an aura of elegance, elevated prestige, and an unwavering work ethic, all of which captivated admirers across the spectrum of society. His demeanor possessed an intoxicating allure for young ladies and gentlemen alike, leaving an indelible mark of respect and awe upon those fortunate enough to witness it.

“Monsieur Neuvilette.”

You greeted him with a slight bow, resisting the urge to smile at his presence. He reminded you a bit of someone from back home. A man that you’d do anything to receive a single praise from.

“Ah, Mx. [Y/N] to what do I owe you the pleasure?” He looked up from his documents. He too had to resist the urge to beam at your form. After all you were one of if not the only person he felt like he could never have enough time with.

“It’s just that I thought you’d be home by now. In any case I have this coffee a friend gave me but I can’t drink it . . .” You looked to the side, breaking off eye contact from your superior. He would have frowned at the action had it not been accompanied by a sweet gesture of yours. You always excused your good deeds with some nonsense about self-interest but he knew you well enough that he could see through it all.

“Thank you.”

Then, you realized that it rained whenever he felt sad.

And when there’re intense rains there would be no work.

And when there was no work, you could stay at home or go out and do whatever the hell you want.

Also he liked you and whatever but that was besides the point! You could slack off and fulfill your sadistic needs.

And so began your journey to find what made your senior co-worker tick. Most of the time it was when you gave other people your attention ( aside from Furina for some reason ). A single headpat towards either Freminet or Lynette caused some light rain. Rejecting his advances caused the skies to stay blanketed for hours. Whenever you were absent it poured cats and dogs.

And lastly, when you and Lyney were practically fucking with words it was as if the Raiden Shogun herself was here to cry alongside him.

The man practically saw you as more valuable than the water he drowns himself with.

It was all you ever wanted and more.

Despite your excessive amounts of free time, you still found yourself to be stressed and tired. Due to your high profile job and connections, it was a must to move from place to place frequently as to avoid paparazzi among other dangers to your health and privacy.

You were planning to check the Fortress of Meropide that day to . . . have a date with Lyney. Don’t look at me like that! You two are the ones with the weird taste in scenery.

“Oh! Your Grace. How do you fare?” You bowed politely. You could feel the glare from the magician beside you burning as bright as his vision.

The man was a menacing person from looks to begin with, but there were also other reasons you often felt something crawl up your spine whenever you two met.

He always stared at you like you had done something wrong. When he was the former criminal between you two! Really, what a crude man. His trial was one of the biggest hits of your career so at least you had that to owe to him.

You still remove the chills you felt when he simply admitted his guilt.

“Mx. [L/N]. I was told to deliver this to you.”

“Oh? I didn’t know that the Duke of Meropide also worked as part-time delivery men.”

“Trust me, this is works for my own self interest more than the sender.”

You gave him a pointed look. Well those words didn’t seem suspicious at all. You shrugged as you examined the object. A letter. Cold pressed paper — the expensive kind too, bound together by stamped blue wax and what seemed to be a miniature lakelight lily.

Inside — in the most elegant cursive you’ve ever seen — was . . . a poem. It read as follows;

Ma gouttelette du ciel,

Telle une étoile dans la nuit,

Ton amour est mon miel,

Dans ton regard, tout est infini.

Tes sourires, doux rayons du jour,

Illuminent mes jours comme un phare,

Dans ce monde, tu es mon seul séjour,

Ton amour est ma plus belle fanfare.

La tendresse de tes mains,

L'éclat de ton rire mélodieux,

Sont pour moi de précieux biens,

Qui éclairent ma vie, radieux.

Ma gouttelette du ciel,

Dans ton amour, je m'égare,

Ton essence est mon miel,

Chaque moment avec toi est un phare.

It only took one line for you to recognize Neuvilette’s work. His water tasting hobbies was somewhat common knowledge to the public, and Lyney was less of a poem man and more of a showy partner.

And so, after making sure his eyes were on you, you ripped it apart.

“That’s a bit too harsh is it not?” Lyney spoke with a nagging tone, yet his eyes were filled with the utmost delight.

“Monsieur Lyney. You know of its contents? Has your father ever told you not to pry into other people’s business?”

“Perhaps. But we’re friends aren’t we? Friend’s don’t hide anything from eachother.”

You sighed. You hated it when he knew where to hit. “. . .Then can you do me a favor and use your vision for its disposal?”

“My pleasure.”

Orange flames barely appear for a moment before it is doused by the sky’s tears. But even then it was enough to destroy the letter.

“Your Grace—“

The clock was ticking.

A few months after you’d heard his screams, you found out that the traveler would be arriving to their next destination soon. There was only a small fragment of a moment to lose for preparation. The rain was getting unbearably strong. You could not count the amount of times you’ve had to replace your umbrella.

In any case, you had invited Charlotte for a chat at the cafe. Partly because of her vision which helped with the rain, and mostly because you wanted to gossip with her as you usually did when slacking off.

Those works of yours outside of your actual career at the Palais Memornia don’t make themselves after all.

“Rumor has it that young women of have been disappearing of late. Do you have any clues on this phenomenon yet, Charlotte?” You leaned unto the table. Your signature smug smile on your lips as you presented your question to the young lady.

“Not yet. Wait — aren’t I the journalist here? Why are you asking the questions? Don’t tell me you missed another deadline again.”

“I just want to get ahead on my writing. The Steambird must have gotten a lead, no?” You dipped on your tea as you spoke, gaze directed at its reflection of your face and the dark skies above.

“So you can slack off some more?”

“T’was what my doctor had prescribed. I need to take care of my mental health too, yknow.” You smiled, poking your cheek in a cutesy manner.

This was no good. You were getting nowhere in your investigation and your anxiety bit at you as time could only pass by. You bit your nails. What would he do? How would he bypass such a situation? Oh, how useless you were without him.

“[Y/N]!”

You almost don’t react to that name as you were overtaken by your thoughts. It seemed that you spent too much time worrying that Charlotte wasn’t even at your side anymore.

“Ah, Lady Furina. How may I be of service?” You stood from sit in a jolt. You were guilty of looking down at the archon from time to time but appearances must be kept in public.

“I came to personally escort you to Palais Memornia. We have a case that requires your presence.” She coughed. An unusual shaken demeanor on her. Not that she was a completely confident person all the time, but this look on her particularly screamed fear.

But what would an archon be afraid of?

“Urgently.”

“A case? But with this rain. . . surely — “

The rain abruptly stopped and with its sounds disappearing, a deep voice makes its way into your ears.

“It is yours, [Y/N]. You’re under arrest for suspicions of colluding with the Fatui.”

“Monsieur —“

He looked away from you before you could finish your call. You feel metal touch your skin as none other than Wriosthesley himself puts cuffs around your wrists.

“Stay put, Mx. [Y/N].”

You eyed the Iudex from beyond the ‘glass’. This chamber had not existed the last time you visited the Fortress. Yet here it was, almost an exact same replica of your room — yet it did not feel like home at all.

You supposed Fontaine in its entirety was not home at all.

“You framed me.”

You were lazy. Incompetent even. But you would never collude with those miscreants.

At least, those were the lies you fed yourself in order to feel better about the betrayals you made in a day to day basis.

You could imagine the looks on your colleague’s faces. Would they be surprised, neutral, would they even care at all? Or would they be so utterly hurt by your actions that they fall into a spiraling abyss of despair?

You yearned to witness it all.

“All you had to do was to accept me.” His gloved hand touches the material between you two, a ripple forming from his touch. You were surrounded by what seemed like primordial water.

“I would have forgiven your sins. I would have made you be reborn anew. Innocent and pure as water.”

The water parted for a brief moment but you do not dare do anything foolish. You stayed put, remained still as Neuvilette reached through, and allowed the dragon to drag his thumb across your jaw and lips.

“All you did was push me away.”

And then — he pulls your head through the opening.

You close your eyes. One smallest movement would have your neck turn into foam.

“[Y/N], ma gouttelette du ciel.”

Perhaps, you had no need to see all the other’s fall into hopelessness. After all, the man who put the most trust and adoration into you was right here with you.

If only you were able to empathize with him. If only you were able to return his feelings and live a fulfilling life filled with love.

If only you weren’t cursed to feel nothing for him at all.

“Comme on fait son lit, on se couche.”

After all, what the Doctor wills is what the patient gets,

and if you must sleep in your deathbed this day and suffer the Iudex’s judgement — then so it shall be.

⟣┄─ ˑ IV. ✧ DIVIDER

[ TRANSLATIONS ] [ MY FRENCH IS VV RUSTY SO PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE ARE BETTER REPLACEMENTS/TRANSLATIONS FOR THESE] :

Ma gouttelete du ciel- My droplet from the sky/heaven/my droplet of heaven etc.

Comme on fait son lit, on se couche - You made your bed, sleep on it / You dug your own grave.

[nohoney]

thinking of touya pounding me down, sweetness😁 (horny on my bday yikes HAHHA)

aaahhh happy birthday my love (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

warnings: drug use (weed -> edibles), smut, some degradation

Smoke billows in the air after you blow out your candles and a cheesy round of the happy birthday song is sung around you, cameras pointed at you to take pictures and videos to save and post and tag you later on social media. The first slice of cake of course goes to you, your eyes roll back a little at the first bite and smiling afterwards. It’s light and airy, just like how your mind feels right now.

You’re high as fuck.

It doesn’t take much to get you there; a little edible gummy of a mere 5mg THC will get you and anything more ends up making you go to sleep, no matter the strain. So you’re lucid enough to mingle and have a conversation but high enough that your mind falls off track sometimes and you end up giggling and asking, “Wait, what?”

The party ends towards midnight and despite the temptation of continuing the party to another venue, Touya leans into your ear to remind you that you were the one that didn’t want to party too late.

“Yeah well that was sober me and she wasn’t having fun at the time she said that.”

It takes a bit of back and forth but you relent eventually, bidding your friends goodbye before getting into the passenger seat of the car. Your friends playfully boo at Touya with little jeers of c’mon, it’s still early!

“Birthday girl was the one who said she wanted to be done at this time, I’m just following my lady’s rules.” Touya dismissively waves off the playful boos, bidding the others goodnight before getting into the driver’s seat.

In the drive back to the apartment, your music is played at a gentle volume and your head lolls against the headrest. You sink just a bit into the seat your eyes are set on your boyfriend. His side profile is beautiful, his eyes glancing to the mirrors to check that he was safe to merge into the next lane.

You cling to his arm as the two of you walk the path inside the complex back to home. A part of you wants to sit on the swings of the playground but you know that the chains aren’t oiled and the squeaking would definitely disturb the neighbors nearby.

“Fuckin’ finally, come the fuck over here.” Touya says out loud with relief and pulls you to him as soon as the front door is locked. You have no idea how riled up he was watching you during your party, his eyes admiring the short dress you wore. God he wanted to go up behind you and just rut his cock against your ass a couple of times. He had to excuse himself for a smoke here and there, sometimes he’d have to go inside the restroom to calm himself down.

But now he’s got his pretty girl all alone now.

The zipper is pulled down and loosens the dress, you’re shrugging off the straps to it and Touya’s hands assist in shoving the dress off your body and to the floor. It’s kicked to the side and Touya practically pushes you to the wall, one hand holding your face and squishing your cheeks a little as he looks down at you.

“My baby, my pretty doll…”

God, you love this man.

He kisses you silly, takes you to bedroom, and asks what you’d like him to do to you.

“Can I choke on your cock, please?” you phrase it as a request but you and him both know that you’re gonna get whatever you want tonight, “Fuck my face? Want it really bad, Touya!”

He can’t say no to you, especially not on your birthday of all days.

So your wish is granted and you’re on your knees, looking up pitifully as Touya roughly fucks into your mouth, into your throat. When he tells you to open your mouth wider, you do it. When he says to stick your tongue out and licks his balls when he’s got you pressed to the base, you do it. When he tells you to just fucking take it, slut and to be a good girl for him, you do.

You’re a mess of tears and spit, coughing and sobbing a little when Touya pulls you off his cock. He gazes at you at first, watching the teardrops fall from your eyes and drool drip off your chin. He can’t help but think you’re such a pretty thing when you’re dick drunk.

“You know, it was cute to see you at your party. All high and stupid and forgetting what you were talking about with our friends.” Touya comments and pulls you back to his cock again, tapping the tip against your lips. “I like when you’re all dumb.”

“‘M not dumb.” You mumble before wrapping your lips around your boyfriend’s cock again. His cock glides smoothly into your mouth, the thickness of his cock a familiar thing for you as he touches the back of your throat.

Touya’s hand briefly pets your head before he holds your head in place. His hips fuck into your mouth, his cock fucking into your throat again and a fresh new set of tears well up in your eyes. You can’t think when your mind is so dizzy and heady, when all you can do is just be used and talked down to.

“Fuck, look at you! My pretty doll, you look so fucked out and I haven’t even touched your pussy yet!”

You cough and sob out his name when he lets you off his dick again, your body exhilarated and your mind still feels the high. Your boyfriend’s pretty cock is so slick and wet thanks to all your spit, weakly grasping it in your hand and stroking it as you beg, “Please Touya? Please, fuck me?”

He practically throws you to the bed, pulling off panties and your bra in haste that get carelessly tossed to the floor. You choose the position, holding your legs open for your boyfriend and your pussy on display for him. Enthusiastic can barely describe his actions as he discards his own clothes, pushing his cock quickly into you that makes you yelp in surprise, “Ah Touya!”

It’s delicious the way your warmth wraps around him, tight and perfect for him. What’s even better is that your pussy flexes around his cock, just a brief signal before wetness envelopes around him. You already came but he’s just getting started.

Your nails scrape down Touya’s back as he fucks into you, your voice muffled into his shoulder as you do your best to suppress your sounds. He mutters into your cheek, “Scratch me harder, fuck make it hurt!”

Touya can barely keep in his own groan when your nails dig a little firmer into his skin and drag down. He can imagine the bleeding red lines already, the pain spurs him on and he grits his teeth as he concentrates on you. He jams himself balls deep into you, his body shuddering as you cum around him again. He’s a little too excited that he worries that he’ll cum too quickly but you’re too high and blissed out that he knows that you wouldn’t care.

He wants to last a little longer for you though and what isn’t helping is that it’s your face that makes him want to cum quickly. You’re all gorgeous when you’re fucked out and stupid, your glassy eyes rolling back and then focusing in again to get your bearings back.

Touya maneuvers you into the position he wants, turning you to lay on your side and propping your leg over his shoulder before pushing back into your cunt. You let out a whimper when you’re filled again and you cum on his cock.

He pistons himself into you, drinking in your little sounds and your breathless pleas for him to utterly wreck you.

Touya intends to, grabbing your limp wrist and directing your hand towards your clit. “Touch yourself.”

You rub messy little circles on your clit, adding to the onslaught of pleasure that spikes higher and higher in your body. It’s so goddamn wet in between your legs, it’s almost pathetic how you cry that you think you can’t cum anymore but your body is saying differently. “I know you can keep on cumming, don’t fucking like to me!” Touya grunts, his brows pinching as he tries to hold himself together.

“I can’t!” You whine and your hand tires out, “C-Can’t!”

You’re put onto your back again and Touya fucks at just the right angle that’s hitting that spongy little spot that makes your eyes roll back again. He has to clasp one hand over your mouth while the other one presses down on your lower belly. Because he knows that it does this-

“God! Fucking—fuck!” Touya cusses when your orgasm hits you stronger this time, clenching down on his cock before cumming more intensely. He fucks you through your orgasm, reaching that high point of ecstasy as you cry into his palm.

Touya! Touya, I love you! is muffled beneath his palm and your watery eyes look up at him. He’s ruthless in his pace as he chases his high since you’re fucked stupid from experiencing yours, your head even higher in the clouds thanks to him.

So he says all the nasty shit on his mind, watching as you nod your head in agreement and whimper little sounds still into his hand.

“God, you looking so dumb right now. Fucked your brains out baby? You all stupid now?” He asks and he’s answered with a little muffled mmhmm. “My stupid lil doll, huh? All it takes to make you so sweet for me is my cock, ain’t that right?”

His hand slides off your mouth but moves to grasp your neck, his fingers pressing into the sides and watching as your mouth drops open and you mewl his name.

You’re a fucked out mess, the most pretty mess that gives him sass and loves him so intensely that he feels like he knows real love with you. And Touya laughs a little himself, delirious on how intoxicated he is over you before he finally empties himself into that precious cunt that he’s been fucking for the last few years of his life.

Thick ropes of cum fill you, overflowing out of you that Touya should pull out but he keeps himself stationed in you until he catches his breath. He reaches behind him for the shirt he flung off his body, always knowing to keep at least one piece of clothing nearby and he tucks it underneath you before pulling out.

It leaks out of your well fucked cunt and Touya admires it for a brief moment, only snapping out of it when you whine and your hips shift slightly. He wipes you clean and he leans over to kiss your forehead, muttering ‘happy birthday’ and pulling back to discard the cumrag into the laundry basket.

You get up to pee after finally collecting yourself, the high long gone when Touya fucked it out of you, and when you come back to the room, he holds out a little box from your favorite bakery towards you. “Wanna eat cake in bed?” He offers.

You blow a single candle on a piece slice of strawberry cake, the smoke billowing from the tip of the candle where the flame is and Touya tells you again, “Happy birthday.”

[aishangotome]

Roger Barel: Chapter 1

Prologue 2

♡———♡

Fate we are born with, dreams we cannot fulfill, incurable diseases, war, poverty...

The list goes on and on.

This world is a bargain sale of despair.

And it seems that despair is called "despair" precisely because there is nothing we can do about it.

But I can't accept that.

If we can't overcome despair, then what is the meaning of our existence, of us humans being born?

That's why I live today, giving the middle finger to despair.

-

About a week has passed since the "sinful life" as a Fairytale Keeper began.

I thought the day when I would keep the secret and return to where I came from was not far off, but...

Darius: I'm so happy that you're holding a welcome party for us so soon after we arrived in England.

That night, a dinner party was held under the name of a welcome party...

Victoria's direct royal order organization "Crown" and the German Emperor's direct organization "Vogel."

The members of both organizations were gathered in one place.

It was only a few hours ago that they, Vogel, had arrived from Germany.

-

*flashback*

Victor: I hear Vogel is a research organization that advocates for cursed social contributions.

Victor: They will be staying in this palace for a few months as goodwill ambassadors.

Darius: "A better society through the power of curses." That is our motto.

*flashback over*

-

(They are friendly visitors and shouldn't be people to be wary of.)

But there was something that kept bothering me.

Harrison, who has the ability to see through lies, said, "Those guys are lying."

(It's better not to let my guard down until we know their true identity.)

Darius, who seems to be the leader of the three of them, the director of "Vogel," is sitting next to William and enjoying a conversation in high spirits.

(It seems like it would be better for me to keep a low profile and stay quiet.)

The table is filled with dishes that Victor has prepared with great skill.

(Even though it looks so delicious... I'm so nervous that I can't swallow my food.)

Nica: Hey, hey, robin. You're not eating at all. Well then, I'll pierce this cherry for you.

Ring: Nica, you'll get a stomachache if you eat food from a stranger you don't know.

Nica: What's with my brother, seriously cautioning me?

Nica: This is just an excuse to show that I want to be friends with you. Ring is so clueless.

Ring: ...Clueless.

I can't help but compare the twins, who have similar features, hair color, and eyes.

Kate: You're Nica and Ring... right?

Nica: Oh, you remembered our names? We also remember yours, Kate.

Nica: We just met today, but I feel like we could become good friends, don't you?

Nica: Hey, show us around the palace. Let's sneak out of here.

He wraps his arms around my waist with a practiced gesture and whispers in my ear.

(Wha...?)

As I tense up, someone pulls my arm from the other side.

Roger: Sorry to interrupt your flirting, but I have a prior engagement with Kate.

Kate: Roger!

Roger: Our Queen's Aide is the best at giving tours of the palace. He'll gladly show you around.

Roger: Victor, can I ask you to give the Vogel guests a tour of the palace?

Victor: Ah, of course! This Victor will show you every nook and cranny.

Nica: ..................

Nica looks at Victor with narrowed eyes, then gives a bright smile.

Nica: Vielen Dank.

William: Well then, it's time to call it a night, although it's a shame to part ways.

Darius: Yes, Lord Rex. We at Vogel want to be friends with Crown, like family.

Darius: If you have any troubles, please feel free to rely on us.

-

––This is a room inside the palace.

In the luxurious room prepared for Vogel, Darius sat deeply in a chair and smiled.

Darius: How was it, the social gathering with Crown?

Nica: It was great, I was trying to seduce the robin when the hunter interrupted me.

Darius: Hunter? Ah, you mean Roger Barel, the "Betrayal Hunter."

Darius: Hehe, how violent to snatch Little Red Riding Hood from the side.

Ring: ...So, Roger Barel and she... are they dating?

Nica: No, they're not. But it seems that Crown cherishes the robin very much.

Darius: Gathering information is important.

Darius: It will eventually become a valuable resource for achieving our ambitions.

Darius: Ring, Nica, continue gathering information about Crown and the robin, who might be useful.

Nica: Verstanden. / Ring: ...Understood.

Darius: ...Roger Barel. A former doctor who shows an abnormal obsession with "cursed ones," huh?

Darius: Is he worthy of being my "family"? -

After the social gathering ended, people started leaving the guest room one by one.

Before I knew it, Roger's figure had also disappeared...

(Oh, huh?)

I hurriedly went out into the hallway and saw his broad back.

Kate: Um, Roger, about the prior engagement you mentioned earlier...?

When I called out to him, his gaze turned back in the empty hallway.

Roger: You looked obviously troubled, was I mistaken?

--CHOICES--

Did you help me?

I was really in trouble.

You weren't mistaken.

-------------

Kate: Did you help me...?

Roger: Did you not need a helping hand?

Roger: I'm sorry for ruining your chance for a one-night stand with a foreigner.

Kate: What are you talking about? Your imagination is running wild!

As I thanked him again, a mischievous look appeared on his face.

Roger: Oh yeah, I didn't say it was for free, you know? I need to get paid for helping you.

(Huh?)

Roger: What, I was thinking of going to the pub in town with Ellis and Jude. You're coming too.

Kate: Eh, right now? Whoa... wait a minute, Roger!

-

Roger: Ah~~ Delicious. The first sip of beer is like a shot of blood to the veins.

Ellis: Hehe, you say that every time, Roger.

Jude: That's not somethin' a doctor should say. Well, it can't be helped, since yer a quack.

(I ended up being brought to the pub before I knew it.)

(I noticed it before, but Roger is a bit... no, maybe quite forceful.)

On top of that, it's a mystery why Jude, who seems like he would refuse this kind of invitation, is sitting there with a dissatisfied look on his face.

Red-haired Clerk: Here you go. Fish and chips, bangers and mash, and...

Jude: How much did ya order? You ate a lot atta' social gatherin'.

Roger: When I nibble on fancy food bit by bit, I don't feel like I've eaten anything.

Ellis: Are you full, Jude? I can still eat more.

Jude: Are ya guys growin' children?

The three of them are talking like close friends...

Kate: Hehe...

I can't help but smile, and Roger narrows his eyes with a beer in one hand.

Roger: Huh, you can laugh like that after all.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: Haven't you noticed that you haven't laughed once since you became a Fairytale Keeper?

(Oh... huh? Ah, but it's true, I haven't... for the past week...)

Roger: You don't eat much. Even when you do, you look like you're chewing sand.

Roger: Maybe... or rather, did you not even notice it yourself?

(To keep the secret for a month as a Fairytale Keeper, to write down the evil in front of me.)

(In addition to that... the sudden appearance of Vogel.)

I was so focused on getting through all of that, I gradually stopped laughing, eating, and doing the normal things that are part of living.

Like a plant slowly withering away.

Roger: I understand that you have things to think about, things to worry about, and anxieties.

Roger: But that's when you need to take care of yourself. Eat, sleep, play, laugh, and recharge.

Roger: If you don't, you'll easily be swallowed by despair in this darkness, lil' lady.

Kate: ...!

Roger's words pierce my heart.

(That's right, I... why was I being so weak?)

No matter how much I struggle, the anxiety will never disappear until I safely escape from this darkness.

I know that... but.

(The only one who can truly protect me is me.)

(I will never lose. ...I must not lose.)

Kate: ...You're right. There's no time to be weak, no time to despair.

As if to shake off my past self... I stab the steaming aged meat in front of me with a fork and stuff my mouth full of it.

Kate: Mmm... delicious.

(...It feels like I'm tasting food properly for the first time in a while.)

(The fact that food tastes good, that I'm alive, is a very happy thing.)

Roger: ..........

Jude: Hey, yer eatin' the firs' bite without any hesitation.

Kate: Ah, I'm sorry! I got carried away.

Ellis: It's okay, Kate. This rock salt potato is also recommended, please try it.

Kate: Wow, this is delicious too! It goes well with the alcohol.

Roger: Oh, you're a bold drinker, lil' lady. Barman! Two more beers, please.

Barman: Alright, two large mugs of beer, coming right up!

The golden beer and the food are delicious, and the sound of people's laughter reaches my ears clearly tonight.

(...Ah, this is fun. I feel like I'm taking deep breaths for the first time in a while.)

(It was forceful, but I'm glad I accepted Roger's invitation...)

I don't know to what extent Roger's actions are calculated and to what extent they are out of kindness.

But it's an absolute fact that I was saved by his forceful actions tonight.

(Maybe Roger is a sensible and mature older brother after all.)

While thinking such things easily, I ended up drinking one after another, letting myself be carried away...

-

––I woke up on a fluffy bed.

(Huh... I was drinking at the pub last night, and then...)

In the lingering lethargy and drowsiness, I groped for the warm linen...

Kate: Hmm...? ...??

(Wha... I'm not wearing anything!?)

I hurriedly wrap myself in the linen, only my face peeking out.

...And then, I notice something familiar lying next to the pillow.

(...Glasses?)

The black-rimmed, intellectual-looking frames are definitely in my memory.

(These glasses, could they be...?)

The moment I pick them up and gasp, the bed creaks with a squeak-–.

Roger: Hey, glasses aren't toys... Here, give them back.

The glasses in my hand are snatched away, and when I look up, I see Roger, half-naked, leaning over me.

Kate: ...Wh-Why are you here, Roger...?

As I open my eyes wide, he gives a wry smile as if to say, "You're asking that now?"

Roger: After that, you passed out drunk, and I carried you back on my back.

Roger: And I brought you here, but you wouldn't let go of me.

His words imply that I was clinging to him, and regardless of the truth, my cheeks heat up.

(W-Wait, I was holding on to Roger?)

(And then... or rather, more importantly than that...)

My eyes wander busily over his thick chest and abs, exposed without reservation.

(T-This is too stimulating...)

(I don't know where to look.)

Not to mention his bare chest.

His strong arms peeking out from his shirt, the raised lines of his body from his thick neck to his broad shoulders, his toned waist.

(But he's as beautiful as a sculpture...)

Before I knew it, my eyes were tracing his supple skin.

His well-developed muscles easily betray his intellectual features, and the gap alone is enough to make me dizzy.

Roger: ...Not bad, being looked at with those eyes.

Kate: Eh!?

Roger gives a devilishly wicked smile.

It seems I was unconsciously staring at his body, and my cheeks flushed even more with embarrassment.

Kate: I-I'm sorry...

Roger: It's nothing, it's cute compared to yesterday.

Kate: Did I do something... yesterday?

Roger: "Something," huh?

Roger gently closes the distance and whispers, as if to drive the point home.

Roger: ...Ah, last night was quite hot, wasn't it, lil' lady?

(W-Wait... me, with Roger?)

.

.

.

.

.

Roger Barel - Chapter 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[thenon-fictiondays]

Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation Epilogue

Epilogue: Good things

Prev ||

I know, I know, I'm a day late. But we're finally here! We've reached the end of this way-longer-than-expected journey 🙌 thank you all so much for sticking with me this long, even as the official TL was released. It's been a blast 💖 I'll be drawing the name for the giveaway after this, so stay tuned!

Cleanup for the cultural festival goes by much quicker than the preparations had.

Breaking down everything they’d worked so hard to make was disappointing, but even the wistfulness of the demolition process was a part of the joy.

That, Kagiura thought, was probably what he’d say if he were a bit more sophisticated.

Since becoming a part of the executive committee, being that frenzied during the preparation period was unavoidable. For as much as he’d relied on Niibashi for the paperwork, he planned to work just as hard leading the cleanup efforts.

Thanks to that, his lower back is quite sore.

As a result, his arrival at the dorms is no later than usual.

He’s not sure when, but at some point the kinmokusei hedge had started blooming.

“Hey, welcome home.”

“I’m home. You’re back early, Hirano-san.”

The haunted house had been a large-scale production, so he would’ve thought cleanup would take a long time, but Hirano’s presence in the dorm suggests he slipped out early.

“Did you have something you needed to do?”

“Yeah.”

When he hands him something without saying another word, Kagiura blinks in surprise.

“Hm? Candy?”

“You didn’t get to be scared properly at the haunted house.”

Was that even a problem?

Kagiura had been troubled by not only knocking Hirano down, but by being seen like that by students from other schools. Whether he’d been scared or not wasn’t the issue.

But apparently Hirano had been worried about it.

“It was scary enough, though, that special effects makeup,” Kagiura remarks nonchalantly.

“That’s what got you scared, though. You totally missed out on the best parts of the haunted house. Well, you can have this as an apology. Your throat’s been giving you a hard time lately, right?”

“.....”

He’s always like this, he thinks.

He always meets me where I am with so much kindness.

“Wait, do you not like candy? No, you were eating some brown sugar candy the other day.”

“.....I like it.”

Slowly, Kagiura’s heart grows hot. He shouldn’t be feeling this warm over this, yet here he is.

The act of being considered by Hirano makes him happier than anything. Though, he does also like candy.

“Oh, good.”

“I like it!”

The meaning of this phrase, the true meaning, is too much to convey no matter how many times he says it.

“I got it the first time.”

Hirano’s side profile as he laughs, flustered, is stunning.

And words completely fail him.

They head to the dining hall a little earlier than usual. While Kagiura is eating his dinner, the chair next to Hirano’s is pulled back.

There aren’t that many people he’s gotten close with while living in the dorms. Their visitor is none other than dorm leader Hanzawa.

Usually, Kagiura’s part of the late crowd thanks to club practice, so it’s rare for them to cross paths.

“Where’s your roomie?”

Kagiura startles at Hirano’s nondescript statement.

I wonder if I get called the same way.

It sounds intimate, relaxed.

“He was so busy with the cultural festival that he’s crashed out. I couldn’t wake him up, so I just left him there.”

Traces of exhaustion also tinge Hanzawa’s voice, so it feels like Kagiura’s eavesdropping on a private conversation, and he almost wants to excuse himself.

Having finished his salad, he silently confronts his Chinese stir-fry. But before long, his chopsticks stop in mid-air.

There’s tons of peppers.

Hanzawa, always keen to subtleties, quickly takes notice.

“You’re not going to eat them?” He asks.

Simultaneously, Hirano says only “one piece.” How kind.

“...Okay, fine.”

He can manage just one piece, so he restrains his protesting stomach and somehow swallows down a pepper. Hirano’s eyes crinkle at the sight of his efforts.

“Good job.”

“I did my best. But, I can’t eat anymore…”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Hanzawa’s eyes widen at the intimate exchange. Have they forgotten he’s sitting right there?

The usually well-mannered Hirano reaches his chopsticks over the table to Kagiura’s plate, a gentle smile on his face.

After Hirano finishes eating the remaining peppers, and Kagiura expresses his gratitude with a “thank you, Hirano-san!”, Hanzawa finally pipes up.

“Nothing’s going on between you two, right?”

The tone of voice in which he asks Hirano this question is indescribably awkward.

“What’re you talking about? We’re just bros being bros. Right, Kagi-kun?”

“Bros…that’s one way to put it…”

With Hirano smiling at him so breezily, he can’t quite bring himself to nod along. His reaction ends up a little half-hearted.

“Am I wrong?” Hirano’s expression shows not a hint of foreboding, but Kagiura’s reaction raises some eyebrows. Hanzawa, who’d observed them both, whispers “Maybe so,” under his breath—but then he shakes his head as if to correct himself.

On the other hand, Kagiura says, “No, you’re not,” with a bashful smile.

He’d been called a friend, by Hirano. By the friend closest to his heart.

Joy gradually blossoms through him; when he speaks his words are from the very bottom of his heart. He’s probably grinning ear-to-ear.

“I’m really glad I met you, Hirano-san.”

*****

Prev ||

I'm emotional, is anyone else emotional? 😭

I'm really glad I decided to translate and post this novel.

One last time, thank you so much to my reading list members. You guys kept my spirits up and let me know people still valued what I was doing after the official TL was released and I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart @jeizet, @jujupanic, @massyworld, @umbreonwolfy, @acidsuzanne-blog, @neoday, @lary-the-lizard, @tsmginc 🥺💖

[vendetta-if]

𝓱𝓲 💖 (sorry for this asdkjfhjijhj)

im back and i have returned (to everyone's dismay) and i come bearing gifts - i have found the pages where i had my vendetta sequel mc drawn in!! 😈

here's my first doodle of rei when i was designing him - i didnt have the proper markers to colour him in but i used what markers i could get my hands on at the time lol but i did fuck up his face :( (closeup)

now i have lots of doodles i drew alongside this fullbody design of his and without further ado >:)

here are some facts i wrote about him 😊 as well as rei decorating his helmet :D though i'll write it down here if you can't read my messy ass handwriting (sorry about that hsjdhsd) »»————- ★ ————-«« FACTS ABOUT REI 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO: ➭ loves all things cutesy and colourful ➭ acts and whines like an actual toddler (because it forces his family to give him attention whenever he's being an actual pain in the ass 💞) ➭ reckless af and hates when people fret over him or protect him (that's his job. 👺) ➭ unironically thinks that blood splatters on his clothes look good on him (rei doesn't care if he's seen covered in blood in public, he can make millions of excuses why it isn't blood >:D) " NO this isn't blood this is paint 😇" " tf did you think this was?? i spilled my kool aid all over my clothes 😪" just to name a few, lol ➭ would honestly sell his soul for a lifetime supply of strawberry milkshakes (this is totally not me projecting myself onto rei when it comes to taro milk tea 💀) »»————- ★ ————-««

now here's another doodle of rei using his blood manipulation powers 😋 also ignore the pencil text below LMAO

so i did mention in my first ask about rei that he loves to explode things- yeah um idk if luka and jackal would give their menace of a son explosives or a grenade launcher if they knew that this is how he'd act with them LMFAOO

i also mentioned that rei makes the best belgian waffles! (send help hes holding me at gunpoint and forcing me to say this) here's rei offering a divine dish of waffles to my vendetta mc, remedy / remi 💕💕 and look at his face! his mouth is practically watering in anticipation to gobble up the waffles! 💗💝💘💓

okay on a side note- i made some small drawings of rei in a different outfit and was actually gonna include this in the ref but i didnt like it because it looked ugly 😭 so i made a poor life decision to cut these two abominations out and now they're on my phone 💟 (closeups)

anyways now here have a drawing of rei as demoman from the hit game tf2!!11!1!11!! 😲😳

(he really looks like a dollarstore demoman lol)

(reference used):

now if you have been on the internet during its baby phase im sure you may understand the reference i used for this doodle 🤭

yknow looking back at this downgraded rip off drawing of the original this is actually a shit drawing LMAO (how tf do you draw flames and smoke pls help 💔) now one thing i like to headcanon about rei is that whenever he starts to get frustrated or is having a hard time with carrying out an assassination he decides to do fuck all and blow everything up with literally anything flammable he could find because no target survives being blown to oblivion! (which happens more often than you think...) i like to think while this is an easy way out for rei, it is an absolute nightmare and a headache for the rest of his family 😌 (they probably would have to deal with unwanted attention because rei doesn't give a shit about keeping a low profile and people may tie him to the Morozovs 🤗 they also may struggle to come up with cover stories as these arson incidents become more frequent - because rei is the type of person who values quantity over quality, where he challenges himself to complete multiple assassinations so he can receive praise from his family 😂🤪 and it also doesn't help that he would rather cut corners and take the easy way out when it comes to his work) luka and jackal: " these fires are getting out of hand, we can't keep doing this... " fucking rei: " DAD 1 AND DAD 2!! LOOK!! THATS ME!! THAT BURNING BUILDING, I DID THAT!! :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD " (reference used):

now moving on to a somewhat ironic drawing, here's a doodle of rei in a raincoat vibing in the rain ✨(aside from overalls, rei loves to wear raincoats - and would rather wear them instead of wintercoats when it's cold LOL) rei is the type of person to prioritize fashion than comfort :(

now here's a crappy drawing of cousin bonding time (rei and remedy) tbh i dont really like this scribble lol - this is just filler because i hated empty patches in my paper 🤡

now, a word from our sponsor; rei himself!! he is presenting his aforementioned homemade waffles in greater detail :) and now, cue the advertisement that totally is not completely false and not just rei's delusional and stubborn ramblings on that he creates the best waffles and that waffle makers are inferior to him ☺️

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Rei's amazing homemade Belgian waffles! ♥ (𝑀𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝒻𝒻𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇!) ♥ 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲! (𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝) ♥ ♥ 𝗛𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲, 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗹𝗲𝘀 (𝙏𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 >:( ) ♥ ♥ 𝗖𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝘆𝗿𝘂𝗽 >:) (𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡!) ♥ ♥ 𝟷𝟶/𝟷𝟶 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛! (𝙍𝙚𝙞'𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙙𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜! :) ) ♥

i feel like im trying too hard to be funny here, lmao 🤡💀 anyways, here are the full pages of all of the drawings :D

alright so thats finally all i have - if i somehow get my motivation to draw or do literally anything productive ill start working on my vendetta mc's (remedy) ref sheet 👹 (im sorry for this cesspool of cringe again btw LMAO)

Rei sounds so chaotic and kinda sweet at the same time 😆

Also, I love the lil headcanon about the waffle. You can bet that big bro will boast about how his lil brother can make really good waffles to his friends whenever he hang out or has breakfast with them 🥺

Thank you for sharing all these lovely drawings and headcanons about your upcoming sequel MC 🥰

[prouvaireafterdark]

Practical Ethics || Chapter One

I dedicate this fic to my beloved enablers and Armand whisperers (you know who you are). This fic would not exist without the tremendous support and ideas you’ve given me over the last few months and I love you all very much for it. I really hope you enjoy this <3

So, without further ado, I present to you the first installment of an Ethics Professor Louis AU, as told by the grad student Armand.

Also on AO3!

***

When Armand sweeps into Dr. du Lac’s graduate level Ethics course on the second day of class, he finds his seat in the center of the small lecture hall’s first row already taken. 

The blonde man occupying it, Armand notices, is older than the average student, perhaps in his early thirties, and the desk he’s stolen is totally devoid of notes, books, or a laptop. Dressed in a designer leather jacket, tight black jeans, and platformed Doc Martens, he looks like he’s attempting to channel his inner rockstar. The man’s hair has also been pulled back into a low ponytail that would make anyone else look like a founding father, but in combination with his striking jawline and devastating profile, Armand finds it infuriatingly charming in spite of his considerable annoyance.

Armand had chosen this seat carefully, you see, as he had just endured a harrowing semester as research assistant to Dr. de Romanus—a Romanist, coincidentally, whom Armand had met in Venice, and who had encouraged him to move all the way to San Francisco to complete his doctorate now that he was teaching in the Religion and Philosophy department after the unfortunate defunding of the university’s Classics program. Currently staring down the barrel of another semester working with Dr. de Romanus, Armand is keen on seizing any opportunity he can find to serve under someone with a less… draconian approach to pedagogy in the future. Dr. du Lac seems a more promising prospect than the ancient Dr. Talbot by about a mile, and so the stakes for making a good impression are quite high. 

Armand’s eyes narrow as he approaches.

“Excuse me,” he says, standing up as tall and imperious as he can as he stops beside the blonde man. “You’re in my seat.”

“Am I?” the man asks, his English faintly accented. French, definitely, but not Parisian, if Armand recalls from his own considerable time spent living in the city—a regional dialect, he would guess. The generous curve of the man’s mouth and the tilt of his head turn mean all of a sudden as he continues, “Apologies, monsieur. I did not see your name on it.” 

The man makes no move to find a different seat, and in fact settles more fully into it, his spine slumped casually against its cushioned back like he could drop off and take a nap at any moment.

Indignant rage simmers beneath the surface of Armand’s skin, mingled with the equally infuriating attraction he feels as an errant blonde curl comes loose from the man’s ponytail, falling over the curve of his cheek when his head tips drowsily forward.

Well, that decides it, Armand thinks to himself. I must destroy him.

Out of spite, Armand chooses the seat next to him, spreading out his folder of meticulously highlighted and annotated readings across the meager desk space this lecture hall provides, just past the point where the edges of his papers brush the blonde man’s arm where it lies on the armrest. He can almost feel the man’s answering glare like a physical thing against the side of his face, but Armand simply feigns ignorance and busies himself with unlocking his iPad to get ready to take notes.

Dr. Louis de Pointe du Lac enters the classroom then, dressed impeccably as always in a finely tailored suit—a sophisticated heather gray tartan this afternoon. Though Armand appreciates the view, he struggles to comprehend how someone living on a philosophy professor’s salary at a small liberal arts college can afford to indulge such exquisite tastes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the blonde man sit up straighter, his attention captivated by the professor as he sets up his notes at the podium in front of the room.

The man can’t be blamed for that, Armand supposes. In his opinion, Dr. du Lac is by far the most handsome professor who works here, and if the chili pepper on his Rate My Professors is any indication, most of his peers agree. 

“Alright, everyone. Let’s get started,” Dr. du Lac says with a kind smile and a clap of his hands to gather their attention, taking a moment first to review the names of all his students as he takes attendance before settling in to give his lecture. 

Armand does his best to stay focused on the lesson, diligently taking notes on his iPad as Dr. du Lac writes on the board, and even asking and answering questions when the opportunities present themselves. Inevitably, however, he finds his attention drawn to the man sitting beside him.

The man—Lestat, he’s learned from Dr. du Lac’s roll call—seems incapable of doing three things: sitting still, taking his eyes off the professor for longer than a microsecond, and taking any notes whatsoever. 

An expensive-looking leather bound journal now sits open on his desk, but he has yet to write down a single word beyond his own name in elegant, looping script. In fact, the only time Lestat even lifts his ridiculous fountain pen off the desk throughout the entire lecture is to rest the end of it against his full bottom lip as his eyes track Dr. du Lac’s every movement, his tongue occasionally peeking out of his mouth to swirl around the metal tip. 

Several weeks pass this way—Armand and Lestat stubbornly sitting side by side, each focused entirely on their professor but with seemingly very different goals. He’s noticed that Lestat is always the last person to leave the lecture hall, lingering around for a private word with Dr. du Lac once everyone else has gone. Armand even saw Lestat follow the professor to his car in the parking lot once, but he was running late for a meeting with Dr. de Romanus and couldn’t afford to be too curious. 

Lestat’s apparent oral fixation also continues to rear its head at least once a class, driving Armand to the point of madness until one day he can stand it no longer.

“Why are you even here?” he seethes, glaring over at where Lestat is fidgeting in his seat. 

They’ve been asked to discuss some reading questions in small groups and, to no one’s surprise, Lestat has made no move to actually contribute anything of substance.

“Pardon?” Lestat asks, looking over at him with those impossible eyes of his. Are they gray? Blue? Purple? Their color seems to change by the day and Armand is pathetically distracted by the desire to pin down their hue.

“You sit here every class taking no notes, doing nothing except practically fellating your pen while you stare at the professor like you want to eat him,” he hisses, frustration bleeding through in his tone. “Do you even do the readings?”

To Armand’s extreme displeasure, Lestat smirks at him.

“Perhaps if you spent less time worrying about what my mouth is doing and more time reviewing your precious notes, you would not have only gotten a 94 on the quiz,” Lestat muses. 

“What? How—?” Armand stammers, his cheeks burning with humiliation. 

“It seems highlighting nearly the entire article as you have done did not guarantee that last six percent,” Lestat continues, gesturing down to Armand’s desk-full of neatly organized readings with a single manicured finger.

Incredulous anger consumes Armand’s chest. Lestat must have seen his grade when Dr. du Lac handed their quizzes back at the end of last class. It’s the only explanation, but, come to think of it—“You didn’t even take the quiz!” 

“I don’t need to,” Lestat shrugs, unfazed. “I am merely auditing the class.”

Now that was even more baffling. He had assumed Lestat needed to take this course as some kind of curriculum requirement, but why on Earth would someone like Lestat be auditing an ethics class? 

He supposes it does explain the reason Dr. du Lac’s eyes seem to almost intentionally skip over Lestat when he’s sprawled out in his chair like the entitled brat that he is. If he isn’t paying for the course, why bother making sure he’s actually learning something?

“Well, I don’t know what good it’s doing you. It’s not like you’re even reading the articles he assigns,” Armand shoots back, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Wait, you can read, can’t you?”

Lestat sneers at the question, but before he can open his mouth to deliver the venomous rebuttal Armand is sure he’s been working on the ten whole seconds it’s been since he asked, Louis is addressing the class again.

“Alright, that’s enough one on one discussion time for now. Who’s got something for me?” Louis asks, and when Armand looks up, he sees the professor’s eyes are flickering between the two of them, his brow creased in concern.

It’s another week after that that Armand gets back their latest quiz—a perfect score this time—and finally decides that the moment has arrived for him to move on to the next stage of his plan.

After Dr. du Lac dismisses their class, Armand waits for the handful of other students who have questions for the professor to depart before making his approach, ignoring the glare he gets from Lestat who still hasn’t moved from his seat.

“Armand,” Dr. du Lac smiles as Armand steps up toward the podium where he’s still gathering his papers into his messenger bag. “Those were some very insightful comments you made about the assigned reading. I think you might be the only one who actually understood it.”

Armand is momentarily stunned by the compliment, warmth flooding his body at such praise. He is struck, too, by how beautiful the man is up close, finding himself captivated by the gentle curve of his lips as he grins at him and those warm, dark eyes, fathomless in their depth. He could fall in love with those eyes, he thinks—if Louis wasn’t his professor and Armand wasn’t already in love with someone else, of course.

“Thank you, professor,” Armand says, an almost dreamlike quality to his voice as he attempts to recover. 

“Please, call me Louis,” Dr. du Lac interrupts with a wave of his hand. “‘Professor’ is for the undergrads.”

“Louis, then,” Armand replies with a soft smile of his own, shaking off the urge to just keep staring at him. 

“So what is it I can help you with?” Louis prompts when he says nothing else.

“Oh,” Armand says, redirecting his thoughts. “I was wondering if you might have recommendations for further reading for me. I will be writing my dissertation on philosophical approaches to the devil and plan to include a chapter on the epistemological and moral issues concerning the subject. As our department’s resident expert on moral philosophy, I thought you might be uniquely situated to point me toward a starting point for my research.”

“Already thinking of the diss?” Louis wonders, curious as his eyes pass him over again. “You must be a few years out from writing it.”

It isn’t hard to imagine why he’s asking. By now, Armand is quite used to being underestimated because of his perceived youth. 

“I’m older than I look,” Armand assures him, shifting from one foot to the other. “And I am eager to get started.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Louis says kindly. “I meant you’ve only just started your degree. You’re new to the department, right?”

“I do already have my master’s,” Armand tells him, disliking the implication that he hasn’t advanced enough in his studies to know what he wants to focus on, before he continues, “but yes, I matriculated while you were on sabbatical last semester, no doubt crafting your latest masterpiece.”

Louis laughs, a soft and beautiful sound. “You could say that.” 

He glances behind Armand to where Lestat is waiting as he says it, but then his brown eyes refocus on Armand.

“Hey, why don’t you come by my office hours tomorrow?” he suggests. “I’ve got to run, but I might have a few books you’d be interested in.”

Any rankled feelings still lingering in Armand’s heart evaporate completely in the face of Louis’ generous invitation. He is as flattered by Louis’ interest in supporting his work as he is excited by the prospect of spending more time with him. 

“That would be wonderful,” Armand replies, eager to accept. “Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Louis nods obligingly.

Armand says his goodbyes before heading out the door, feeling strangely light on his feet, as if buoyed by the butterflies he can feel fluttering around in his chest.