#you’re self aware where u need to be self aware

[saatorus]

— freak like me ୨ৎ

based off of this post

wc — 2.8k

warnings — oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, genuinely just 2.8k words of filth bc i need satoru :3

Sometimes, you truly want to grab your husband by the shoulders and genuinely ask him what the hell is wrong with him.

In a purely cute, loving, wifey way, of course.

You had been lounging at home, listless but not tired, charged up but not in a productive way. The kind of restless where you start wiping already-clean counters just to burn energy. Or reorganizing your skincare drawer for the fourth time that week.

Your body felt hot under the skin, like something in you was coiled up and ready to snap. There was only one explanation for this kind of jittery, razor-sharp awareness running under your skin like a live wire. So, like any other normal person, you opened your period tracking app.

Yup. Ovulating.

Fantastic. That explained the horniness bordering on religious fervor. Everything in your body was screaming breed like it was written in your DNA. So, just like any other wife with the patience of a saint and the self-control of a demigod, you texted your husband Satoru at work.

You 12:47PM

hey u

quick q

Husband (derogatory) 12:48PM

answer is yes unless it’s illegal

You 12:48PM

r u busy or r u like pretend busy like usual

Husband (derogatory) 12:48PM

ur sounding like ur abt to ask me to pick up toilet paper and i hate that tone

what’s up

You 12:49PM

im ovulating

Husband (derogatory) 12:49PM

oh👀

ok. and?

You 12:49PM

so when u get home

ur not gonna get to say hi

or breathe

or take off ur shoes

i’m going to destroy you

like i actually might kill you with my pussy

Husband (derogatory) 12:50PM

😳

bold of u to assume i’d try to survive

You 12:50PM

bold of u to send me nothing spicy of u but be mean to me when u know i’m genuinely suffering and shit like omg

Husband (derogatory) 12:51PM

what do u want me to do??? send u a live feed of my cock at work???

do u want me to be on a list???

You 12:51PM

no but like

a lil thirst trap wouldn’t kill u

show me smth for the spank bank

Husband (derogatory) 12:52PM

u want a pic of my abs rn??

i got time

lemme hit my office for a sec

You 12:52PM

if u send me a pic right now i swear i’ll spontaneously combust

Husband (derogatory) 12:55PM

[1 image attached]

🥰

tell me i’m pretty

You 12:55PM

i hope u know this photo just signed ur death warrant

ur gonna be BURIED in me. like to the point where ur dick is like never getting out of me 

Husband (derogatory) 12:56PM

ok but like

worth it??

do i look hot

scale of 1 to rawdog me in the kitchen while the rice is still cooking

You 12:56PM

absolutely rawdog in the kitchen with zero regard for the rice

ur not even making it to the bedroom. my clit hard at dis 

Husband (derogatory) 12:57PM

god

i’m bricked up in front of principal yaga rn

i hope ur happy

You 12:57PM

good

suffer

consider it foreplay

You stared at the photo again. The audacity of this man to stand there with perfect abs, just barely flexed, pants sitting sinfully low on his hips like he knew the way your brain would short-circuit. The lighting in his office was stupidly flattering—somehow made his skin look so nice and delectable. Not to mention the veins going down to his cock?

You chewed on your lip, pacing the living room like a predator. There was simply no way you were surviving the next few hours. You even considered sending him a photo back—bait for bait, a little tit-for-tat—but decided against it. Let him suffer.

Let the anticipation kill him softly.

When he gets home? You’re not talking. You’re not greeting. You’re not doing anything except dragging him inside and absolutely sucking the soul out of the man you had ended up marrying.

–

It was exactly 6:02PM when you heard the door unlock.

Two minutes late. Not that you were keeping track or anything… except you definitely were, curled up on the couch in a barely-there pair of shorts and one of his old shirts with no bra underneath. Strategic slutty domesticity. A war tactic.

You didn’t even look up right away. Let the tension simmer. Let him walk in and realize what he’s just stepped into.

The door creaked open, followed by the soft jingle of his keys and the unmistakable shuffle of his slides hitting the entryway.

Then:

“I’m home—”

You were already standing in front of him before he could finish the sentence.

The look on his face was criminally satisfied. Like he knew he was walking into the lion’s den and brought himself as the offering. His blindfold was pooled around his neck– it was a habit for him to take it off at home. His white hair was a little tousled from the wind, and he had the audacity to be smiling.

“Hi, babe—”

You didn’t even let him finish his sentence. You fisted your hands in the front of his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss so hot it made your knees buckle. He groaned into your mouth, hands flying to your hips out of instinct.

“Jesus—” he panted against your lips, breath already shaky. “You weren’t joking.”

“I told you I was gonna ruin you,” you muttered, kissing down his jaw, “You think I just say things for fun?”

His laugh was breathless, cocky, but already crumbling. “You do, though.”

You reached between your bodies and palmed him through his pants. “Not today.”

Satoru hissed, bracing one hand against the wall. “Okay, wow. Hi. Hello. I see the demons are home.”

“You started it,” you said sweetly, unzipping his pants like you were opening a present. “Sending me that photo like I’m not clinically insane for you.”

“I was tryna be nice— shit—”

His sentence broke off into a groan as you sank to your knees right there in the hallway. He wasn’t even fully undressed, shirt still on, pants down just enough for you to get what you wanted. And what you wanted?

To suck his soul out like a Capri Sun.

You eagerly took him in your mouth, lips wrapping around him– absolutely no time for teasing– taking him as far as you could the moment he slipped into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of him, at the feeling of his prominent veins on your tongue, and the way that he just sat so hot and heavy in your mouth.

“Baby,” he rasped, one hand threading through your hair, the other gripping the wall so hard you swore it cracked a little. “Not— not even the bedroom?”

You hummed around him in response.

“Fuck—okay, okay—take everything. Take the whole paycheck.”

You didn’t let up—not even when his knees buckled, not when your nose repeatedly kept hitting the smattering of white hair above his base, not when his pink, throbbing tip kept hitting the back of your throat so good that your pussy felt like it was a puddle at this point, not when he was gasping out half-finished apologies to whatever god he believed in, not when he muttered something about filing for short-term disability because of "whatever the fuck this is."

He came so hard you were genuinely concerned for a second that his soul had actually left his body. Filled your throat with him, even. Like a capri sun. Man folded like an origami crane. Sagged against the wall with his shirt all rumpled, hair sticking to his forehead, and the most dazed, fucked-out look you’d ever seen on his stupidly pretty face.

You licked your lips and stood up slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like a villain in a K-drama. 

Satoru looked up at you like you were the Messiah and the apocalypse all in one.

“You’re insane,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“You love it.”

“I do,” he breathed. “God, I really do. I’m in love with the devil.”

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him sweetly, gently, like you hadn’t just given him a religious experience with your mouth.

Then you whispered in his ear:

“Round two’s in the kitchen.”

He made a sound that was not human.

By the time he made it to the kitchen—pants back up but barely, shirt half-untucked like he just walked off a battlefield—he looked like he had one brain cell left, and it was begging for mercy.

You, however?

Unbothered. Glowing. A menace in tiny shorts and smug satisfaction.

You leaned against the counter, one leg crossed over the other, nursing a glass of water like you hadn’t just rearranged his internal organs. “I said round two in the kitchen,” you reminded him, sipping slowly. “You moving a little slow there, old man.”

He squinted at you, chest still rising and falling. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Technically, I warned you.”

“You warned me via text,” he muttered, walking over with the exaggerated drag of a man heading into war. “There’s a difference between texting me you’re gonna ruin me and actually attempting a physical exorcism on my soul through my dick.”

You grinned. “Still had enough energy to come find me, though.”

“That’s because my penis is a traitor and doesn’t believe in self-preservation.”

“Your penis is smart. Your penis is loyal. Your penis knows who feeds it.”

You didn’t wait for a reply. You set the glass down with a click, reached for his collar, and pulled him in. “Bend me over the counter,” you whispered against his lips.

He choked.

Eyes wide. Pupils blown. Brain visibly buffering.

And then: obedience.

“I—yes. Okay. I mean—of course. Obviously.” He practically tossed your glass to the side and spun you around, hands already slipping under your shirt, finding your bare skin like he was made for it. His thumbs hooked underneath the waistband of your shorts, halting when he felt the smooth skin of your hip bones and not the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “No panties?”

“I was planning ahead,” you said, bending slightly and bracing your hands against the counter.

“God, I love you so much it actually hurts.” He kissed down the back of your neck, worshipful. “You’re unreal.” He slipped down your shorts, and then his already halfway down pants, aligning his tip with your soaking entrance.

Then he slid into you with a groan so filthy it echoed off the cabinets. You gasped, arching, clenching around him instinctively, and heard him let out a shaky laugh.

“This is a setup,” he whispered, biting your shoulder. “I feel like you’re doing this to steal my powers. Like I’m not gonna be able to use infinity after this.”

You couldn’t even form a reply—your mouth was open, moaning, hands scrabbling for purchase. He wasn’t going slow. Not anymore. Whatever restraint he had left burned off the moment he was inside you. It was fast, deep, messy. The kind of fucking that blurred your vision and made your toes curl.

Satoru’s fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you, saying all kinds of nonsense against your skin:

“Been thinking about you all goddamn day—” “—knew I was in trouble when you said ovulating—” “—you were serious about the soul thing, huh? gonna baptize me in pussy—”

You half-laughed, half-cried out as he hit a spot that made your legs shake.

He reached around to rub tight, dirty circles on your clit, whispering, “C’mon, baby, let go for me, lemme feel it, wanna feel you lose your mind—fuck, please—”

And you did—with a broken moan and a full-body tremble that had your knees buckling, your body locking up so tight around him that he swore out loud, dropped his forehead to your shoulder, and followed you over the edge with a deep, shaky groan that sounded like it came from the depths.

The kitchen went quiet except for your breathing. The rice cooker beeped once, like it had seen things.

You both just stood there, still connected, sweaty, wrecked, in the soft afterglow of holy sin.

“…do we have any electrolytes?” he asked weakly.

You giggled. “Top shelf. Pedialyte in the purple bottle.”

“You’re a menace,” he said, pulling out slowly with a wince. “I’m not even mad. I’m just scared.”

You turned to face him, cupping his face and giving him the sweetest kiss imaginable. “You’ll live.”

He blinked. “Will I? Are you sure? Like… can I put you on my life insurance as both the cause and beneficiary of death?” Satoru was still recovering—barely holding himself up against the counter, forehead pressed to the cool surface, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon while holding his breath.

You, on the other hand, were just sitting on the counter next to him sipping water like a perfectly reasonable, not at all deranged wife. Ignore the fact that his cum was steadily drying on your thighs after dripping out once he pulled out.

“So,” you said casually, like you weren’t actively naked in your own kitchen. “You think the rice is done?”

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse, muffled, like he didn’t trust himself to lift his head. “Please. I don’t even remember my own name.”

You leaned over and patted his ass. “That’s okay. You don’t need a name. You just need to sit up on that counter for me.”

He groaned. “I need food. I need air. I need—what did I even do to deserve this?”

“You sent me a thirst trap.”

“You literally asked me for it,” he whined, straightening up slowly, eyes glassy.

You pushed off the counter—with a slight wobble—and before he could get another sarcastic word out, you moved away from from the counter in the middle of the kitchen, boosting yourself up onto the counter right next to the stove, legs spread, voice sugar-sweet.

“C’mere.”

He blinked. “Oh my god. Are you gonna ride me next to the soy sauce?”

“Would you prefer the spice cabinet?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Spice cabinet.”

—

Somehow, somehow, you ended up on the higher shelf. Not the safe little cozy edge of the island—no. You were straddling him on the counter in the corner by the window, legs draped around his thighs, knee bumping the pepper grinder, and he looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown about how hot it was.

Satoru kissed you like a man possessed—hands on your thighs, holding you open for him, still too breathless from the last round to be cocky but desperate enough not to care.

“I don’t have anything left,” he whispered into your mouth. “You’ve drained me. I’m just a shell of a man now.”

“Then let me fill you back up,” you said, not even remotely sorry.

“Do you even hear yourself—holy shit—”

You’d sunk down onto him again, slow and deep, pulling a moan out of him so loud it had no business being that pretty. His head dropped to your shoulder as you started riding him, deliberately slow this time, grinding in small, agonizing circles.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he whispered. “You’re gonna have to call Shoko and be like, ‘Hi, I murdered my husband with pussy and now he’s trapped in the rice cooker, can you help me scrape him out?’”

You leaned in close, teeth grazing his ear.  “She’d say ‘finally.’”

His hands flew to your hips, grip bruising, and he started moving with you, fucking up into you like he’d found his second wind in the middle of his own funeral.

The countertop creaked under you. The spice jars rattled. A cinnamon container fell off the shelf at one point and he caught it one-handed without breaking rhythm, then threw it over his shoulder like an anime protagonist mid-battle.

“Why is this the best sex of my life—” he gasped, eyes wild.

“Because I’m ovulating and mad,” you panted, nails digging into his back. “Because you purposely sent me your cum-worthy abs.”

“So my ballsack is being drained because of some muscles on my abdomen?—”

“You don’t get it—”

And then you came together in the middle of the kitchen like two idiots in heat, clinging to each other, half-screaming into each other’s skin like the world was ending. Which, in a way, it was. Your knees were shaking. His hands wouldn’t stop twitching. 

The counter was definitely never going to recover.

And when it was over, when the both of you were breathless and sweaty and completely unhinged, he looked at you—kiss-bitten, flushed, utterly destroyed—and whispered:

“I don’t think I can eat rice ever again.”

being a virgin and ovulating is not for the weak 🙁🙁🙁

[luveline]

I love ur writing 💕 can I request something where reader is dense sortof/has low self esteem, so she likes hotch, admires him and would love to date him but can't imagine he would view her that way,, so he has to be really obvious with his advances? Not self indulgent at all 👉👈 no worries if not. Love u!

Hotch has to break the news that he’s been pursuing you. fem, 2k

Hotch would like to call you unassuming in the kindest way possible. Unassuming, in that not everyone who looks at you would find themselves immediately aware of your beauty (an old-fashioned way to put it, and true), because your poor self esteem leaves you shy. 

You don't believe anyone would want you. It doesn’t matter to Hotch beyond a weary heartbreak for you, as he doesn’t mind if it takes time to convince you. He only wishes you’d have more confidence. You’re pretty and you deserve to know it. 

“Hello,” he says, with intent to try again. 

You like him. He’s a grown man and a good judge of character, better of action, and he’d like to think that your sudden grimace whenever he speaks is again this cloud of insecurity rather than a true dislike for him. You have to warm up to him every day, but you do warm. 

“Hi, Hotch.” 

And listen, he’s not one to flirt at work, but if he ever wants a real shot with you, he has to be heavy-handed. “Hi,” he repeats, smiling, “how are things today?” 

You’re assistant office administrator for the BAU, and so Hotch isn’t technically your boss, but you do work beneath him. “Things are the same as always.” 

“Not too hard for you, then.” 

You catch his teasing, which is a new development. “Not too hard for me,” you say.

He doesn’t pretend he has reason to hang around. He thinks it might’ve contributed to you not believing he’s interested; he’d drop by with coffee because you seemed tired, or checked in on issues that didn’t need his supervision, and you’d taken every extra minute spent at your door as his attentiveness to his job, rather than an affection for you.

He stands with his hand on the doorway and just looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“You look beautiful today.” 

You touch the button at your neck. “It’s too much for work.” 

“No.” You’re wearing normal business casual clothing. You’ve pulled a necklace over your sweater, soft collar of a shirt kissing your throat. He imagines you’re wearing regular pants and flats or maybe a skirt and short heels beneath the desk, it doesn’t matter. “It’s not just what you’re wearing. You look pretty.” 

You could catch flame if something sparked near you. Lost, your lips part, and eventually you squeeze out a timid, “Thank you, Hotch.” 

 “Aaron.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Can we get coffee?” He dislikes the panic in your eyes and regrets how casual he sounded. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Well, maybe we can take lunch together?” 

“Have I done something?” 

“Have you?” he asks. 

He feels… young. Haley was the only woman he’d been with at a time, and casually there have been others now, but you’re the first woman he’s attempted to woo like this. He sometimes forgets that you’re shy and that he’s been married, distracted by his fizzing, almost joyful feelings for you. Flirting with you is a pleasure. 

You lick your lips quickly. “Where did you want to go? For lunch?” 

He was thinking you could bring your sandwich to his desk, but what you’re asking is a thousand times better. “Where do you want to go? Melanie’s?” he suggests. 

You breathe out in a strange laugh. “For lunch?” 

No, perhaps not. It’s rather fancy. “Somewhere nice, at least,” he says. 

“I don’t know where’s nice.” 

“Well, we can find somewhere. I’ll try to find somewhere before one, what do you think?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles. “Okay.” 

He’s pulling away from the doorway when you stand up from your rolling chair and say his name, a near yelp, “Hotch! Wait, uh, wait a second.” 

He immediately turns back. “What?” he asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“Are you sure I’m not in trouble for something?” you ask. To your credit, you give a bashful little laugh. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.” 

“I have no intentions of trapping you anywhere.” 

“Please don’t fire me at Melanie’s.” 

He smiles at you again and leaves your alcove of the office to head back to his own. Around the desks and the bullpen where his team sit doing their paperwork, up the stairs to the landing. He pauses before he goes inside.

JJ’s standing behind Derek’s desk. They’re chatting, JJ sipping at a mug, a small smile on her lips. Spencer watches her from his own desk. He doesn’t like her anymore to Hotch’s knowledge, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling at her with that slight thread of lovelorn shyness when she asks him what he’s so busy doing. 

Hotch has a moment of clarity at his desk when he realises he needs to find somewhere perfect to take you come lunch time. You hadn’t seemed convinced of your job security when he’d left you, and he spends some time pondering how best to accommodate you as he sorts thought Quantico’s best cafes and restaurants. 

He has emails to answer, phone calls to take, and to make. Time moves quickly, and by 1:02 he’s all sorts of late. It’s almost 1:12PM when he’s again at your office door, a warm plastic bag against his side. 

You’re looking at your lap. Coat in your hands, lip nibbled raw, there’s an internal conversation happening that he’s not privy to. He doubts he’d like it very much —the agony of self-doubt is written plainly in your slouch. 

He knocks your door, feeling very sorry for your startled jump. “Hi. Sorry, I’m late, I know. But I thought I’d bring dinner to you.” 

He thought of it like this: if he were to take you to dinner, you could explain it away as a professional superior who was going to fire you and changed his mind, or a superior checking in on his employee, or a superior simply being kind. He has, on occasion, taken different members of his team or office out to discuss things in their lunch hours because he was busy and needed their time at a convenient hour. You might not think anything of it. 

Right now, Hotch really wants you to think something of it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Is that okay with you, if we stay here?” 

It’s a little much for you, apparently. You finally tip into incredulity. “Aaron, is everything alright? I really don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“I’d like to eat lunch together.”

“But why?” 

“Because you’re good company.” He’s sat knee to knee with serial killers, and his next sentence is still scary, “Because I like you, and I’m not sure how else to show it.” 

You press your coat to your stomach, frowning. “You like me.” 

“I was under the impression that you liked me too,” he says, smiling despite you and himself. Hotch might be a drill sergeant and a bully all those terrible moody stations as a boss, but he’s also just a man, and there’s little room for stoicism in love. 

“But you…” 

He waits, but then feels too sorry for you to let you flounder. “Honey, I don’t know how else to put it. I’ve tried compliments, I brought you that plant,” —he points to the still blooming orchid on your window— “I ask you what your plans are every weekend.” He looks swiftly behind him. Alone, he edges into your office to close the door and allow some privacy. “And every weekend I ask you if you want to get a drink. I’d think you didn’t like me if it weren’t for your tell.” 

“What’s my tell?” 

Your hand. Whenever he’s around, you take something into your hand and squeeze at it or feel it like you’re going to explode with nerves. He saves you the explanation, and instead lays his most gentle look on you. “If I’m wrong, please let me know. I’d never want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but you’re lovely.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you say, semi-disbelieving. “You never do. I'm just confused.” 

“I’d really like to get to know you as more than a colleague.”

“You know me,” you mumble. 

He does. He knows what your favourite colour is, your favourite food, your soccer team. He sent you flowers on your birthday, asks after your sick neighbour, and checks your office light every night when he goes home, though he knows what time you leave each evening. And he knows that you’re scared to admit to liking him or anyone, because you worry you’re not allowed. 

“I do,” he agrees, giving the plastic bag a jostle. He doesn’t need big answers now. “Can I sit down?” 

You might not have a big answer to give, but your expression tells a story nonetheless. You wheel your seat backward and he pulls a spare chair toward your desk, your smile like an adornment as you push aside your things to make room. You smile so hard it changes your entire face. 

“Do you have napkins?” you ask, not so subtly breathless as he places the bag down and pushes the plastic back. 

He pulls out a wedge of them. You pinch them, and for a second the both of you hold them, your eyes meeting, your cheeks appled with matching smiles. 

“I thought the orchid was for secretary’s day,” you say quietly, taking the napkins. 

“You aren’t a secretary,” he says, holding out a plastic fork. 

When you go to grab it, he moves it up out of the way. Your startled laugh is beautiful. Totally stunning. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted the quiet intimacy of teasing you over lunch until he had it. 

You grab the fork before he can move it again. “Too slow,” you say. 

“Oh, you think so?” he asks. 

“I know so, Aaron. Who has the fork?” 

Aaron, he thinks. Finally, Aaron. “You have the fork, but I have your lunch. I’d tread carefully if I were you.” 

[soobnny]

it takes two — hyunjin x reader ; comfort fic where he helps you shower due to ur inability to after you’d accidentally wounded yourself (1.1k words)

prompt is very specific but i hope u enjoy

You’re starting to get annoyed.

The gash on the palm of your dominant hand has been keeping you idle. You stare at it with bitter eyes, and while hard to admit, there is self-awareness that you’d done this to yourself.

Had you listened to Hyunjin, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place, but no. You just had to think that cooking at midnight would be a good idea.

It’s a hard pill to swallow. Your best friend was right, you shouldn’t have done it, but you do not want to live in a world where Hwang Hyunjin is right. The ringing of his “I told you so’s” is already echoing in your ears, just like they’d done before, and just like they will in the following years.

But, right now, you’re really starting to get annoyed.

It’s your second fruitless attempt at a shower, but no matter how hard you try, the sting on your hand is too painful to bypass.

The bathroom tiles are tauntingly cold against your feet, and there’s frustration squeezing at your sternum and clenching your chest.

You feel like crying.

It’s how Hyunjin finds you half an hour later, still fully clothed, knees pressed to your chest and face twisted in a sob. Forgetfulness is a feat you’d always had (Hyunjin always had to set up reminders on your phone so you’d remember), and you were too upset at not being able to do anything to recall that your best friend was coming over.

“Hey, hey, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” There’s a prominent furrow to his brows as he rushes to sit beside you, voice laced with concern, yet soft enough to not startle you. He knows it’ll only make you cry more.

“I know I should’ve listened to you. I know.” Your voice wavers. “But I just want to shower. I haven’t been able to do anything today because of this stupid wound, and I just… I just want to shower.”

Hyunjin scoots towards you, taking your hand in his. He’s careful not to touch your scar, and your face twitches at the sight. “Have you cleaned it? Does it hurt a lot?”

You nod, bowing your head to press against your knees so you won’t have to look at him. You prepare yourself to be scolded, but it never comes. Instead, he finds a way to pick you up. You’re overwhelmed by his sudden scent.

“What are you doing?” You say through sniffles and quivering teeth.

“Are you okay with your clothes being wet?”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

At his words, you only weep harder. Hyunjin’s never been the type to do anything remotely close to this. Disdain has always dripped down his tongue when his friends would ask him to do anything that involved levels of intimacy, but here he was.

That usual disdain is absent.

“Hey, stop crying.” He whispers, lips fighting a frown at the sight of your droopy nose and your red, puffed out eyes. “Please.”

He carefully sits you in your bathtub, circling around your bathroom so he can collect the things he’d be needing. It doesn’t take a minute before he’s squatting right in front of you. “Is this okay?”

You can only nod.

Hyunjin starts running your bath, making sure your injured hand is out of contact with the water. “Just keep it out here for now, okay? Just so it doesn’t sting. I’ll clean it again after I wash your hair.”

He’s gentle with you as he wets your hair, fingers threading through the strands. He does this for a while until he’s smoothened it out. He knows how much it can hurt when it tangles.

You hear the sound of a bottle uncapping, and then his hands are back on your scalp, massaging the shampoo into your hair. It feels nice—contrasting to the frustration you’d felt earlier. You’ve almost forgotten why you were so upset. You can only feel his fingers through your hair and the comfort that is distinguishably the presence of your best friend.

“Does that feel better?” Hyunjin asks, eyes soft as he looks at you. His fingers don’t stop digging into your scalp, but it seems that everything else in the room stops when he looks at you like this, when there’s nothing else to hear but your heartbeat and the water running.

There’s a twist in your stomach that had been in your chest earlier. You don’t know what it is.

“Better.” You mumble, and there’s a faint smile on his lips when he hears you.

When enough time passes, he uses your dipper to rinse the foam from your hair. It feels vulnerable, sitting in your bathtub while Hyunjin washes your hair. You’ve never done this before, and there is warmth sitting where shame should be.

You never feel embarrassed around him.

Similarly, Hyunjin faces his own dilemma. He didn’t think about it when he made the offer. All he knew was that his own heart felt like breaking when he saw you crying, and he’d do anything to alleviate your pain. It came over instinctively, like it was the right thing to do.

Ah, my feelings are a lot more than I thought, he thinks.

It was inevitable. It had grown little by little. A smile here, a laugh there. He just never thought he would willingly give up his indifference for the touch of someone else so easily. But it was you, and it will always be you. You are the first introduction of what craving feels like. Every small touch from you is electrifying, and Hyunjin feels himself allowing more room for intimacy as long as it was you.

“I’m gonna wash your face now, okay?” Smooth hands cup your cheeks, moving your head from side to side so he can spread the cleanser evenly on your face. He mirrors the way he applies it on himself, fingers moving in circles and rubbing as gently as possible. “Close your eyes.”

He’s a lot closer now, and Hyunjin feels his breath hitch as he rinses the foam from your face.

“This might hurt a little, okay?”

He dips a cloth into some water, taking your hand and letting it rest on his palm before dabbing it on your hand. You wince at the contact, the sting is as sharp as you remember it being, but the contrast in which Hyunjin treats it dulls the pain a little. While his hands are firm, there’s a softness to his touch that you can’t quite explain.

Your pupils blow up when he meets your eyes. “How are you feeling now?” He asks.

You know it’s over, but you want to stay in the water a little longer.

“Thank you.” It’s not the appropriate response, but it says everything it needs to. There is still that unidentifiable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

He can only smile. His brain hates to bear witness to the romance that’s playing in his head.

So, he lets his heart beat instead.

[chereid]

೯⁺ 𖥻 𝓟 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝟰 𝗨 ! ᰋ

ꨄ︎ 𝒫airing : : 𝒮pencer reid x reader

ꨄ︎ 𝓢ynopsis : : you’re like a cherry. small, tempting, easy to eat, but with a pit at the center. very sweet on the surface, but you might leave a bitter aftertaste if someone isn’t careful. & maybe, despite spencer reid & his eidetic memory, he forgot that. there were no strawberries left▰so he reached for the cherries.

ꨄ︎ 𝒞ontents : : angst. spoilers( maeve ). her = maeve unrequited love. one sided-love( ? ) emotional neglect. grief/mourning. unhealthy coping mechanisms. friends to almost lovers to situationship to strangers. rebound relationship. rebound!reader. unresolved trauma. self worth issues. implied depression. implied sex. abandonment themes. no comfort. reader leaving( not the fbi ). no happy ending( ...unless? ). doesn't give off the angsty vibe( in my defense, i'm more of a fluff girlie ).grammatical errors. ooc. song lyrics mentioned. quotes from pinterest mentioned. reader be legit a people pleaser. spencer is kind of a dick. lowercase. use of "&". not proofread( none of my works are ). english isn't viana's first language.

ꨄ︎ 𝓦ord count : : 2k+

ꨄ︎ 𝓒ase file shelf.

ꨄ︎ 𝒲hispers of viana : : sorry for describing reader as a cherry in the synopsis 😭 please blame pinterest,,,. it wasn't supposed to be this long but i got carried away. i also have no idea if it gives off party 4 u,,, because it kind of gives off mirrorball,, IDKDID. oh & can u guys tell that i tried to be poetic but quit. yeah, i'm no shakespeare. &&& i wasn't planning on posting this because it seemed,,, bland,,, but @yeoniverseee wouldn't stop spamming me, so wow. party 4 u is finally out of prison. USGHSH so bare w me indygis one💔 this is my first ever angst ( & i suck at writing angst ). also, the you always let him in & he always visits part is so michaelia coded lawd. ( guess who finished rereading the naturals in just one day ) @dntaed read the naturals already plsplsplspls🤞🏼🤞🏼/j

𝓨ou tell yourself it's okay.

you tell yourself every time his hands linger on your skin, every time the gentle sweep of your waist doesn't hold him fast, every time the silence following your laughter draws out too long & he backs away with a muttered apology about papers or a case or some distant pain he neglected to share. you smile through it all.

because he's at least making an effort, right? you are, too. you always are. always going the extra step, always showing up on his doorstep when you feel like he most needs you, always acting like you don't notice how his eyes are seeing right through you. acting like the hands that hold you in the dark aren't clutching cold with guilt.

he doesn't kiss you in the mornings. that's how you know it's not real. he never does. even after long nights tangled together, bodies pressed close as if closeness could buy out for the sections of him you can't touch. he always sneaks away when the sun comes up. & you let him.

it began perhaps three or four months following her passing. you can't utter her name. he won't, either. not with you.

you swallow her ghost every time you say nothing. you keep her between your ribs, where your hope used to be.

he was mourning, & you were seeking to aid. individuals like you▰those who speak perhaps too blunt sometimes, who dig their nerves deep beneath control & calculation & bullheaded kindness▰you do not necessarily comprehend how to display love. yet you tried.

you sat with him at first, quiet. made coffee. touched his wrist gently when he winced. & slowly, things began to change.

he kissed you once when he was exhausted. you reassured yourself it meant something.

you told yourself his breath in your mouth was a promise. it didn't.

& now it's this. whatever this is. the team doesn't question. but they're aware. you can see in the looks. the soft gazes from jj. the raised eyebrow from emily. the way derek half grins at you, always like he's holding back some thought he knows better than to express. & penelope… she doesn't exactly hide her pity.

& pity tastes worse than anything.

you were trained to read people. not like how spencer reads people. not genius level profiling & eidetic memory. no, you picked it up in the quiet spaces. in silences that warned you who could be trusted, in eyes that did not meet yours. you learned to know when someone was going to depart.

he has not departed. but he's never stayed.

sometimes he calls you in the middle of the night. you don't even ask anymore. you just come. & he lets you curl around him like warmth might burn the sorrow out. he never says her name. he never has to. you can feel it in the way he touches you with fingers like ghosts.

months ago, you overheard him.

you weren't supposed to. you didn't mean to, light steps from habit. the door was left slightly ajar. he was discussing something with alex.

“it doesn't matter what she looks like. she's already the most beautiful girl in the world to me," he stated.

his tone was quiet, filled with something you couldn't define.

he has no idea of what this person looks like, & is already the most beautiful in his mind, you▰someone who he has worked with for years▰could never top that.

you didn't cry then. you just closed the door. waited an hour before walking in & pretending you hadn't heard.

& now, tonight▰tonight he doesn't come home. not until late. you wait anyway, because that's what you do. wait & hope & pretend. when he finally walks in, looking like exhaustion & something rawer, you open your mouth & asked, "are you okay?"

& he stares at you like that's the incorrect question.

"i'm fine."

you despise that word. more than anything. it's the word that you both use when the truth is too painful. for spencer reid, “i'm fine” is a call for help.

"you forgot we had dinner."

he doesn't even flinch. "i didn't forget."

& there's the truth. he didn't forget. he just didn't show.

"i waited," you say quietly. "if you were arriving late, you could've at least told me.”

he touches his hair. "i know. i'm sorry. the day just got▰"

"don't lie to me."

that makes him flinch. his lips shut, eyes narrowing. but there is no anger there. only that weary, endless pain you've learned too well.

"i didn't mean to lie."

"but you did."

he breathes out, slow. "i'm not ready. you know that."

you swallow past the lump in your throat. "& what am i? a distraction? a placeholder?"

his silence is too long. it's everything.

you laugh. "i thought maybe… maybe one day, if i stayed, if i loved you hard enough, you'd see me." you whisper like it’s a secret you’ve said a thousand times before.

his face changes. pain. guilt. "i do see you."

"not like that."

he takes another step forward. you take a step back.

"don't," you tell him. "don't touch me unless you mean it."

he stands still. you can see it. the panic, the guilt, the uncertainty. all of it knotted in the air between you.

"i didn't mean to hurt you."

"but you did."

he doesn't deny it.

you wipe your face, realizing too late that you're crying. "i know she meant everything to you. i know you're still grieving. but i thought maybe i could help you heal. not. not be the wound you keep cutting open."

his hands twitch. like he wants to reach for you. but he doesn't.

"i'm sorry," he says. & it's silent. genuine. "i thought i was fine. but every time i see you, i feel like i'm stealing something i don't deserve."

"you think i don't know that?"

he's taken aback.

"you think i don't know i'm just a rebound? you think i don't notice the way you wince every time i tell you i love you?"

he shuts his eyes.

"i wish you didn't," he whispers.

you laugh once more. bitter. "so do i."

there's silence. the kind that chokes. the kind that stabs you. the kind that bleeds & you didn't even realize it until he's drifting away once again.

you press your fingers into your wrist just to feel something steady.

you don't tell him to go. he does anyway.

& when the door shuts, you let yourself collapse onto the couch. fingers curled tight in the pillow. trying to recall how to breathe.

because you'll take it. every piece. every touch. every half truth.

until you can't anymore.

but god▰you love him so much it destroys you.

you had fallen off your pedestal many times, broken so many times you think there's no repair for your soul; but no one needed to know that. your cries, the guilt you feel whenever a case comes up, how ashamed you feel because every mistake you make is equal to a person's life.

you have fallen countless times, you played a very risky gamble that left you a permanent wound.

you, a special fbi agent from the bau, will die your mother's daughter.

it doesn’t stop after that night.

you wonder maybe it should've. maybe that would've been simpler. but instead, everything settles into this odd performance, a dance neither of you planned but both of you remember now. & it's uglier than ever. you don't kiss him when he arrives at your doorstep. he doesn't hold you afterwards. you speak less. touch less. feel less▰or perhaps you simply pretend to.

but still you let him in.

& he still visits.

you lie to yourself & say it's alright. that it doesn't mean anything. that this is no longer love, that it perhaps never was, not at all. it's just a craving, a comfort, the warm buzz of flesh & breath & quiet you've become dependent upon. you don't meet his gaze when it's finished. sometimes you don't even say goodbye. simply throw on a blanket & turn toward the wall until he gets up & leaves in silence.

& he always does.

he never sleeps over anymore. not that he ever really did.

& somewhere along the way, you give up trying.

you don't brew his coffee the way he likes it. you don't ask about the topics he's very much educated at. you don't hold his hand when he shakes. you don't send him books you think he'd enjoy or those stupid little riddles you used to text him at 2 a.m. you stop arriving first thing after a tough case. you stop asking if he's alright, because the answer will always be the same.

you still love him. he's your best friend ever since you joined the team, & that's the worst part. you still love him like it's your last breath. but love doesn't mean what it used to.

it's just a quiet ache in your chest now. a thing you carry like a scar.

a scar you dress up in perfume & pretend is perfume.

one evening, he approaches you & you're already half-naked, eyes far away, movements automatic. you don't even glance at him. just drag him down next to you like it doesn't matter. like you don't matter. & then he lightly touches your shoulder, as if to speak, but you roll over before he can.

you don't look at his face. but you sense the tension. the hesitation.

he doesn't return for a week afterwards.

& that's when you received an offer

ncavc▰national center for the analysis of violent crimecriminal investigative analysis program. a split personality job. one foot in the field, the other in behavioral data & strategy. it's ideal for you. something that's like both an escape & a test. the unit is smaller, younger, located out of quantico's satellite offices. not the bau. not him.

you don’t tell him at first. you tell hotch, of course. & emily. you tell penelope over coffee, & she gasps & hugs you & almost cries, & you smile through the lump in your throat. derek claps you on the back & calls you “big shot,” & even rossi gets a little sentimental. jj was emotional, to say, at least. telling you that you better visit her every now & then.

but you avoided spencer.

perhaps you're a coward. perhaps you don't want to witness his expression when he knows this is it.

because it is. you know. this is the time where the almost turns into never. the maybe turns into no. the what if turns into goodbye.

you inform him three days prior to the transfer.

you wait until late, when you know he'll be in his desk. the team's dispersed for the evening, penelope already gone with emily & jj, & derek's somewhere plundering the vending machine. your footsteps sound too loud as you get closer to the bullpen, heart pounding harder than it should.

he doesn't even look up when you knock softly. just hummed softly as greeting & continues reading whatever file is in his hands.

you linger a second too long before uttering it.

"i'm leaving."

that cuts through.

he blinks, looking up. "what?"

you let out a breath. "i was offered a role at the ncavc. it's settled. i will switch over next week."

the quiet lands like a punch. the kind that rebounds.

he lowers the file into his hand with deliberation. "you're not joking?"

you nod. "no, i'm not."

he glares at you, eyes darting across your face as if perhaps he's looking for the part of you that's lying. but you're not. not this time.

"why?"

you shrug. "because i want to. because it's a good chance. because i'm good at this, & because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

you don't say because it kills me to be around you. you don't say because i no longer want to wait. you don't say because when i look at you, i recall how desperately i wished for you to choose me & you never did.

you simply fold your arms. "it's not personal."

it is. you both know that.

he nods, clenching his jaw. "congratulations, then."

that is all he says.

you wait another second, expecting▰something. anything. but nothing happens. so you turn & go away.

just like that.

the team gave you a party two days later.

penelope organized it, of course. there are balloons & streamers & a gold banner that reads "GO SAVE THE WORLD, SUPERSTAR" in glittering letters. someone brought cupcakes. derek delivers a speech that's half jokes, half actual feeling. emily hugs you for longer than is necessary. jj hugged you just as tight. tighter, even. rossi says to you that he's proud of you, that your instincts are better than most people's & he knew that from the beginning. hotch smiles. you swear it's almost warm.

& you, you try to have a good time. really. you do.

you laugh at the jokes. you pose for photos with everyone. you take a sip of punch from a paper cup & smile like your heart isn't racing in your ears.

spencer hangs back the rest of the time.

you catch him staring at you once, chatting with derek about something, laughing at one of his idiotic jokes. you don't glance away. you don't approach him, either.

you haven't said a word since the announcement.

you wonder if maybe that's best.

but later, when you're standing by the food table, refolding napkins just to have something to do, jj approaches beside him.

they speak softly for a few moments. you can't hear what they're saying, but you notice the tension in spencer's shoulders, the way he keeps looking your way like he wants to bolt.

jj's voice is steady, but soft. serious. her hand brushes against his elbow, & he jerks away like it hurts.

you look away before you see any more.

"you could've gave a chance to let her in, spence."

his jaw clenches. "it wasn't that easy."

"it was. you made it harder."

he remains silent.

jj lets out a sigh. "she waited for you. for years. & when she finally gave up, you let her. that's what stings the most, i think."

he gulps hard.

"were you in love with her at some point?"

"i was. maybe. before▰" he was then cut off by the blonde.

"then why didn't you tell her?"

he shakes his head. "i don't know. i▰ she was always focused on her job, maybe i felt like she didn't want any distractions. maybe because she deserves better.”

jj doesn't respond for a second. then she says softly, "maybe you should've let her decide that."

& then she leaves.

( spencer will recall every word jj said for the remainder of his life. )

the party slows down gradually.

bit by bit, the team began leaving. lights get a bit hazier. penelope gives you a big hug that is scented like strawberry perfume & frosting. derek pecks your head & makes you promise to stay in contact or he will track you down. emily gifted you a snoopy mug for your new workspace. rossi tucks a note in your bag reading remember, best profiles are ones that come from the heart & not just the head.

& then there's just you & spencer.

kind of.

he stands by the windows, arms folded, looking out like the night would provide answers.

you stand by the door, coat clutched in your hand, uncertain. he looks your way, & for a moment, there's just you two. all the yelling & years & hurt between you.

he gives a single nod.

you nod back.

this is the most you've spoken in days that's just,, okay.

& it's everything.

you turn & go out the door.

you don’t look back.

he does.

he always will.

© reidscherrygirl

[caxasy]

at the end of caleb’s trailer, you can see him and mc play fighting and then she gets up from his chest (hes laying down on the boat, shes on top of him), but he immediately pulls er back down and into a hug and that is exactly what inspired this today thank u infold for that miniscule detail because it did send me into cardiac arrest.

“caleb! stop!”

the harmony of your guys’ shared laughter echoed in the open space around you. caleb was currently laying on the boat beneath you two, using his evol to keep it steady as the two of you rough housed.

his hands were tickling and digging into your sides, bringing forth an entire bodily reaction from you. laughter, but also jerking away from his invasive touch as you tried holding in your giggling. but caleb wasn’t having any of it. he wanted to hear you laugh. to see your smile, the crinkle in your eye as you finally let get of your laugh.

“course i can’t stop, darling,” he says in a sing song voice, continuing to prod at your side. it seems your self restraint truly collapsed with that last tickle since you collapsed onto his chest right as he dug into your side.

his smile only widened at the feeling of you pressed against him, pulling you in and holding you tight in a hug to feel you even more. the way your breath hit his neck and cheek as you tried regaining control of your breathing from your laughing fit. the way your thighs straddled his, feeling of your muscular chest against his own, as well. your one hand resting on the side of his face as the other propped you up so you wouldn’t be entirely collapsed onto him.

he gave a rough tug to your waist to make sure you were fully pressed against him.

“you’re so mean,” you heave, smacking his chest with your one hand a couple of times, only enciting a chuckle from.

“i made you laugh, that’s all that matters to me,” he confesses easily, grabbing your assailant hand in his and kissing your knuckles with utter swiftness. “if making you laugh is mean, then i guess i’m the villain, baby,”

the petname he uses so gently with you, a smile on his face the entire time he chides you, “don’t need to attack me in order to make me laugh,”

“not attacking, per se,”

“oh, it was very literally attacking. i’m still feeling the pain of your fingers digging into my side, caleb!”

“let me kiss it better then,” a mischievous look is on his face as his hands trail from your thighs to your waist, lifting the hems of your shirt. a spark almost ignites in his eyes as he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, your happy trail making him lick his lips. he was greedy and insatiable when it came to you and your body, you can’t blame him for acting like he was watching something so terribly interesting when he was really just staring at your body.

he loves every bit of you, including your happy trail.

before he could lift your shirt even higher, you smacked his hands away and also sat up off of him.

aware of how far you were from him now, as far as you can get when straddling the lap of someone resting in a row boat, he frowned and immediately grabbed your wrist.

“oh, no, no, no, where do you think you’re going?” he clicks his tongue as he pulls you back down onto his chest, hurriedly kissing your cheek before you could processs it and shove him away. “wanna feel you — don’t move so far,” he kisses your neck, leaving light pecks wherever he can place them.

“so needy,” you tease, but he only hums in confirmation.

“you already know how much i need you, [name], don’t make fun,” he nips your skin faster than you can react, truly resembling an attention starved puppy. begging for attention and love in any way he knows how.

“stay back, caleb,” you laugh once more, feeling his sloppy kisses on your neck.

“hm, no, can’t resist you,” he pulls you in even closer, peppering your face in kisses all over. he chuckles against your skin, cherishing how cute your scrunched up face is. “you’re telling your boyfriend to stay away? you don’t love me, hm?”

you can only yelp as a response because now he’s turning the both of you to lay on your sides.

“you’re like a big baby, y’know that?”

“i’m your baby,” he persists, smiling as he sees you roll your eyes, “and you’re my baby boy,”

his hand goes up to carress your cheek, the tips of his hair playing with your hair, as his thumb grazes itself up and down your soft skin. he’s looking at you as if you are the center of the universe, as if you are the one who hung up the moon and stars. nothing but adoration and love.

seeing his soft expression makes your face heat up, instinctively hiding it in the inside of his arm that was resting beneath your head as a cushioned support. he laughs at your reaction, going to lean in as he rests his forehead against yours.

“i want to experience an infinite amount of springs with you,” he confesses, “want to see you smile like this for as long as i live, want to hold you like forever,” his voice is soft and mellow as he whispers the sweetest words into your ear. “will you let me? let me be selfish and never let you go?” your throat has run dry from bashfulness as you nod, looking up at him from being tucked in his arms. he’s already watching you with a smile.

a dry laugh leaves his lips and he leans in closer, “wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway, baby boy, i’m all yours and you’re all mine. forever,” he kisses you gently, tilting your head back to rest in his arm as he presses into you.

it’s slow and sensual, he wants you to feel all of his love and affection for you poured into this one kiss. he moves to maneuver his body to slightly cover your own, legs slotted in between yours and broad shoulders casting a shadow from the sun over your body. the bangs of his hair tickle your face as him hovering above you makes them hang quite low. you both wish that you could stop time in this moment. the serenity of it all was already unbelievable.

he doesn’t pull away from the kiss until it’s necessary for you two. the smile is still present on his face, though. and his hand is still caressing your cheek.

“i love you,” he whispers, biting the inside of his cheek to restrain himself form leaning in for another kiss.

“i love you more, caleb,” the words you share are genuine and sincere, but can only barely scratch the surface of how much you truly care about your devoted lover. words always paled in comparison to the real feeling, the raw emotions that came with being in love with caleb.

but whenever you said those words that felt like they fell short, caleb’s brain always went haywire. while you may think they might not be enough for him to truly understand, he’s too busy feeling the butterflies in his stomach become more rapid, the heat in his face feel scorching, and the smile on his face uncontrollable. honestly, anything you say directed to caleb can make him feel like a little boy approaching his crush for the first time. but whenever you say “i love you” back to him, it really sends him spiraling into a frenzy of emotions.

“don’t think that’s possible, my darling,” he breathes out, leaning in once more and capturing you in another slow, passionate kiss.

and as you two moulded into one another, the outside world began disappearing and turning into a blur. it felt like a dream that neither of you wanted to wake up from. this was as close to perfection as you two could get. no matter where the two of you were, as long as you had each other you’d be happy.

[chleem]

not sure if you take requests! I just looove angst

could you write where reader really gets scared because of Drew? Maybe violence or drinking or he has a moment where his temper gets the better of him and he scares her. thinking about him comforting his teary girl 🥰

Also I adore your writing — just read all of your series & one shots and fell in love!

⋆.˚ Warnings: swearing, jealous bf!drew, assault, physical (w/stranger) + verbal fight (with reader), read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: and yes, I do accept requests but its not promised i write it tho T_T also, thanks for checking out my other works! (ure my first request btw thx sm

hope this one lives up to your expectations, written just for u my babe <3 

word count: 2.5k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

You and Drew had been out for a casual night, just the two of you, trying to get away from the stresses of everyday life. 

The dim lights, the clinking of glasses, the smell of whiskey and perfume—it was the perfect backdrop for a little escape. 

You weren’t the type to go out clubbing, preferring to stay home. But seeing the gloomy state Drew has been in all day, this might just be the thing he needs. 

The bar was busy, but you managed to secure a spot, both ordering your own drinks. 

He’d been drinking fast, between casual conversations, you could slowly see the consciousness slipping away, replaced with his lazy, a bit drunk self. 

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, alright?” 

Drew almost yells into your ear, his voice barely audible over the thumping music in the bar.

You nod, yet was a bit worried whether he could even see in front of him. Drew’s hand lingers on your waist to give it a quick, almost stiff pat before he pulls away.

The warmth of him disappears as he blends into the crowd of sweaty, wasted bodies, leaving you standing there alone, suddenly acutely aware of how unfamiliar the space feels without him beside you. 

The music pulses in your chest, but it’s no longer comforting—it feels loud, invasive, almost too much.

You’re reminded of why you hate clubs- or going out in general, because of the overwhelming energy it takes out of you. 

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous in a way you weren’t before. Without him here, everything feels just a little too close. 

And then, a hand brushes around your waist.

He’s back.

But when you turn around, your smile falters.

It’s not him.

A stranger, grinning a little too widely, leans in close, his hand still secured around your waist. 

You step back instinctively, trying to create space between you and this guy. 

“Little lady, how ‘bout I buy you a drink?” He coos, signaling the bartender over. He’s got a nasty grin on his face, one that sends goosebumps all over you. 

“No- no thanks,” you immediately decline, glancing behind you for any signs of Drew. 

What’s taking him so long?

“Oh c’mon, Daddy’s treat,” his voice drips low, and he steps close to you again.

And when his hand grips your ass through your dress, you immediately let out scream, but it's’ drowned out by the busy bar. 

“Okay- um, I have a boyfriend,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, but you manage to shove his hand off your waist. It’s sharp, harsh, and you feel your pulse racing, your body tense with a mix of disgust and fear.

But he’s persistent. The smirk on his face widens even more, and you see the way his eyes flicker with annoyance at your rejection.

“What? So? That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun,” he grins, his breath hitting your face, smelling of rotten eggs, “I’m just trying to show you a good time, sweetheart.”

Your skin crawls.

Panic spikes in your chest. Where the hell is Drew?

But just as the stranger’s hand moves to touch you again, someone else beats him to it.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you back with a firm grip, until your back hits the solid wall of Drew’s chest. The familiar warmth of him floods through you, that unmistakable scent of his cologne, mixed with the hint of whiskey.

For a second, you’re wrapped in his presence, the rush of his body against yours almost as much of a relief as it is a comfort.

It’s the feeling of being protected—that primal, safe feeling you always get when Drew’s near, and yet, there’s something else, too. Something more possessive in the way he’s holding you now.

“Made a new friend already?”

He chuckles lowly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

The stranger hesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by Drew’s sudden appearance, but his cocky grin doesn’t fade. Instead, he sizes Drew up, eyes darting to all aspects of him. 

Drew doesn’t flinch, but you can feel a shift in the air. His easy-going tone doesn’t match his body language. 

And the protective hold he has on you right now feels like a silent warning to the stranger.

You steal a glance over at Drew, and the look in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. There’s something colder in them now, but it’s not directed at you—it’s all focused on the guy standing in front of you. 

“You the boyfriend?” he asks, voice dripping with mockery.

Drew clenches his jaw, his lips twitching into a smile. “…and you…?”

“-gonna pound on your girl’s pussy in ways you can’t.”

The sudden comment causes your chest to tighten.

The room feels like it’s slowing down. You freeze, and for the first time, you can’t even hear the music—only the rush of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

The arm around your shoulders tightens.

For a long beat, Drew stays silent, his face a mask of cold anger. His jaw is clenched, the veins in his neck throbbing as he locks eyes with the stranger.

“What, what did just you say?” His voice is low—dangerously low—and it doesn’t sound like the Drew you know.

“I said,” the stranger sneers, “gonna pound on that pussy-“

Then, in the blink of an eye, everything shifts.

Drew steps forward, closing the space between him and the guy in one swift motion.

The arm around your shoulders drops as Drew pulls away from you, shoving the stranger. The force of the push sends the guy stumbling backward, his feet losing their balance for a split second, but he catches himself on the edge of the bar.

You watch in stunned silence, your breath caught in your throat.

You’ve never seen Drew like this, starting a fight- or in anything violent. The way his body shifts, tense and predatory, it’s as if a switch flipped inside him, and you’re suddenly faced with a side of him that feels… unfamiliar.

The stranger mumbles something under his breath, his face twisted in surprise, and he pushes back, hands flying out in a flurry of anger.

Drew stumbles, but not as hard as the stranger did. 

You raise a shaky hand toward him, fingers trembling. Your stomach twists in panic, but you have to do something—anything—to stop this from escalating further.

You try to call out, but your voice feels small against the sudden weight of the room. “Drew? Drew, stop-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the eyes of everyone in the bar land on the two of you. You feel the heat of their stares, the whispers circulating, but right now, you can’t focus on anyone else but him.

Drew however, focuses on the stranger in front of him. 

And before you could react, before anyone could react, his fist flies out, connecting with the stranger’s face with a loud thud. The man falls back, eyes wide with shock, a trickle of blood running from his lip.

The bar area of the club avert their attention to the fight that’s currently breaking out, their own conversations long forgotten. 

The stranger, dazed for a moment, recovers quickly and tries to throw a punch in return, but Drew is already steps ahead. He dodges effortlessly, before punching him again. And again. And again. 

You watch, wide-eyed, as Drew’s movements are smooth and precise. 

There’s no hesitation, no question of whether he’ll fight back. It’s like the anger just poured out of him in an instant, and you have no idea how to stop it.

You want to shout, to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your chest. You don’t recognize him like this. Drew’s usually calm, collected... but here, right now, he looks completely different.

Two security guards burst through the bar door, rushing toward the scene. One of them grabs Drew’s arm, pulling him away from the stranger. The other pushes the dazed man toward the door, guiding him out of the bar.

You stand there, still trembling, as Drew is escorted toward the exit. 

Your feet move before your mind can catch up. You need to make sure he’s okay.

You push through the crowd, eyes fixed on Drew’s back as he’s led toward the door.

Then you hear it—Drew’s voice, loud and sharp, cutting through the buzz of the bar, ”yeah- yeah, get the hell away!" 

He’s shouting at the stranger, still seething even as security ushers him out.

You can hear the anger in his voice, raw and unsettling, and it sends a fresh jolt of fear through you. You’ve never heard him like this before. Not even close.

You’re outside now, the cool air hitting your skin like a slap to your face, but it doesn't calm the nerves tightening in your chest.

The stranger must’ve run off by now—he's nowhere to be seen.

Drew’s standing a few feet away from you, his hands running through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. His back is to you, but you can see his shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

You hesitate, watching him for a moment, unsure of how to approach him after everything.

“Drew?” you call out softly, your voice catching a little as you step closer.

He doesn’t turn around immediately. There’s a beat of silence, just the sound of traffic in the distance and your uneven breathing. 

Then, finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and faces you, his expression blank.

But when his blue eyes land on your body, the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself, slightly trembling, everything inside of him shifts.

His gaze softens almost immediately. 

You look so small, so fragile standing there, and it hits him harder than anything else. The sight of you like this, visibly shaken and scared, makes his chest tighten painfully.

“Hey—” His voice drops soft, a faint crack in it, as he takes a step toward you. “hey- babe, babe, look at me.”

His hand rises toward you, to cup your face, but he freezes for a second.

There’s droplets of blood on his knuckles. The realization hits you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Despite the fight he started, you worry, worry about him. 

“Drew… you’re hurt,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat. You look at him, your eyes flicking to the blood on his hand. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists, but the blood on his hand tells a different story.

“No, Drew,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little more firm, the concern for him creeping through your fear. “You shouldn’t have punched him. You could’ve gotten hurt-“

Drew’s brows furrow at your words. His eyes flash, and his jaw clenched as he steps closer. 

“What?” His voice rises slightly, the anger from earlier seeping back in.

Your heart races at the shift in his tone, and for a moment, you feel the same fear from earlier, but this time it’s mixed with confusion.

“He- he said those things, did you not-“

“I know, I know, but—”

“-hear what he said? It’s fucking-“

“-but you don’t have to go that far, Drew. You could’ve just told him to back off—”

“And he would’ve listened?” Drew interrupts, his voice tense, his gaze hardening again.

“I—” You try again, your voice trembling. 

You blink rapidly, trying to keep your tears from spilling, but it's hard to hide it. 

You don’t even know why you’ve got tears in your eyes.

“Fuck- you don’t- are you that fucking naive-“

Drew’s voice raises sharply, frustration and anger spilling over. 

When he raises his hand in a quick motion, your whole body tenses, and you instinctively flinch, pulling back just an inch.

But he was only going to run his hands through his hair, frustratingly pushing them back.

For a moment, you think he might—might—actually hurt you.

The guilt, the regret, floods his face, and his whole posture changes.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. 

You don’t want to cry, don’t want to show him just how scared you are, but you can’t stop the way your body reacts.

Drew takes a hesitant step toward you, but his movements are careful, almost tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away again.

“I’m sorry,”

when you hear the tenderness in it, the weight of everything hits you all at once.

You can’t stop the tears now. They flow freely down your face, your shoulders shaking, and you curse yourself for it, but it’s like all that fear, all the anxiety, is finally finding its way out.

Drew’s eyes widen when he sees your tears, his face falling. It’s like a punch to his gut.

Without thinking, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his warmth.

For a second, you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. 

The world outside feels so distant now, and all you can focus on is the steady rise and fall of Drew’s chest as he holds you. His heartbeat is like a slow, calming rhythm against your ear, grounding you in the chaos of everything that just happened.

Your tears keep coming, his hand gentle as it strokes your hair, a slow, soothing motion. 

“I’m sorry,” 

he whispers again, and this time, the words sound even smaller, quieter, as if they’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart too.

You inhale sharply, breathing in the familiar cologne with the alcohol, and strangely, it comforts you.

Even after everything that’s happened, Drew still smells like Drew—that safe, warm scent that’s so familiar, so tied to him in every way.

You pull away slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. You look up at him, you see it the beautiful blue eyes of his, full of regret.

“I’m sorry,” 

The third time he apologizes, each word heavier than the last, and you can see how much it’s hurting him.

His hand comes up, and you feel the warmth of his touch before you even see it. His fingers gently cup your cheek, and despite the blood on his knuckles, you lean into his touch, finding comfort there. 

“I’m sorry too,” you softly say, which Drew immediately shakes his head at, the faintest smile tugging on his lips. 

“No- no, I’m sorry, I- I overreacted.”

Drew’s eyes soften even more, if that’s possible. “You’re right- should’ve just told him to fuck off.”

You don’t know why- but the sudden swearing gets you, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

Seeing you smile, Drew’s lips curl into a small, relieved grin. Without saying a word, he pulls you close, resting his chin gently on your forehead.

And for a moment, everything feels just a little more okay.

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

p.s this low-key feel more like rafe cameron

elevator | other

[on-leatheredwings]

any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd. 

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans. 

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity. 

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here. 

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer. 

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.

[mrs-hatake]

what a second... do you like the yandere trope 👀 not a formal request but like... the well is running dry on yandere versions of the lads men, any possibility you can write smth for them? u can do just Caleb if that makes u comfortable!! I just need yan!lnds but not many people in the fanbase do it 😔

i LOVE yandere!! especially when it’s well written 👌🏼

tbh, aside from caleb and (maybe) xavier, i can’t see any of the lads men as the yendere type, especially sylus. however, i think zayne can go down the yandere route at some point in his life.

i don’t have any plot ideas :( but i can tell you which types of yandere they are or they might be :)

caleb:

i think caleb would be the type of yandere who inserts himself in your life and plant his seeds of his possession from the start. he’s the type that will manipulate you into thinking he’s the only one you need. and that takes time and training. he’ll use a punishment and reward type of system; you do something wrong; he’ll either ignore you or give you short and clipped answers. you do something right and he’ll return to his usual self, praising you with smiles and a head pat.

he won’t outright isolate you from your friends but he’ll somehow convince you that they aren’t a priority.

xavier:

i don’t know anything about him since i always skip what he says lol so pls don’t came at me when i say he’s the jealous type of yandere.

he’s the type that has to be better than anyone else; stronger, faster, smarter, richer and so one and so forth.

xavier doesn’t like when guys approach you because he thinks they’re useless and aren’t worth your time.

zayne:

if zayne ever became a yandere, he’d be the overly obsessed type of yandere. he literally knows everything about you. What size shoes you wear, what type of toothpaste you use, what time you came home after work, the random elderly woman whom you helped cross the street and he even knows that you lost 0.5kg from a single glance.

he has to know who you’re with, where you are, why are you talking to someone, etc.

zayne even has several photo albums that he organized based on date, day, time and sometimes mood or weather. this guy’s nuts tbh.

sylus:

like i said, i can’t see him as the yandere type but if he were one, he’d be the harmless type. he’s aware of obsession over you so he knows how to control it.

sylus would be obsessed but not like zayne. he’s the type that places you on a pedestal, views you as a superior human so he must work hard to please and satisfy you.

he has you living in a gorgeous home. he’s showering you in money and adorns your arms in expensive jewelry. sylus is cooking delicious food, so good, that you never dine out or oder in anymore.

sylus loves you unconditionally, flaws and all. even when you do something wrong, he still accepts them because it a part of you. he doesn’t feel hurt because you often come around and correct your wrong doing.

rafayel:

he’s also the harmless type of yandere. his mantra is, “if you’re happy, then i’m happy.”

rafayel knows how to read you so he knows how to adapt to your mood. you’re upset? then he’ll be the perfect shoulder to cry on, the best therapist there is, he’d so anything to see you smiling again.

you’re feeling bright and bubbly? then rafayel is also intoxicated with exuberance. in need of a best friend, rafayel is there too.

like caleb, he molds himself into the perfect object for you to rely on. and if he doesn’t know something or doesn’t have a certain skill set, then he’ll teach and train himself until he masters them.

you don’t need friends, family or lovers to rely on when you have rafayel right there by your side.

[blank-potato]

Addicted to You

Pairing: Ivan (Vanya) Zakharov x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content

Summary: You’re a little delusional, a little self-aware, but nevertheless, you’re hopelessly in love with him.

A/N: Written because I, too, would fall for Vanya. Plus, it's been a couple of weeks since I saw Anora, and he's still in my head. Completely unrelated but I was listening to Addicted 2 U from TNS when I started this

🎮🎮🎮

He mumbles under his breath in Russian as he focuses intently on his game, his fingers moving with practiced precision over the controller.

It amazes you how watching him play his game could be so captivating. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight smirk that appeared when he was winning, the effortless confidence in every move he made.

Now all you wanted was to be by his side, to stay close, to exist in his space like you belonged there.

Not to mention what he’d treat you to when he’d win his games.

“Can I get…prize from you?” He'd nod to the space between his thighs, and immediately, you would make yourself right at home. He'd play his next round, still focusing on his game as you'd sit there; your mouth full of his cock, petting your hair every once and a while.

You could tell he liked the validation. He liked having you on his arm, having you all over him, a silent trophy that fed his ego.

You guys had met at his New Year’s party. You weren’t even supposed to be there; a friend of his had dragged you along, but you were so glad they did. That night, Vanya had accidentally bumped into you, nearly knocking the drink out of your hand.

“So sorry, I didn’t…” he trailed off, eyes locking onto yours with an amused smirk. “I’m Ivan, you can call me Vanya.”

“Nice to meet you, Vanya.”

By the end of that night, you were in his bed. His hands exploring your body like it belonged to him as you bent over his dresser.

You should have left when you woke up in his bed in the morning, but he pulled you back in, and you knew you couldn’t leave. 

“We need to… wake up...” He says absent-mindedly as he scrolls through notifications.

“Give me a minute,” you murmured, kissing his neck as he focused on his phone. You noticed his smirk, whether it was for you or whatever it was on his phone, you didn’t know, but you didn’t care. It felt too good being in his arms. 

It wasn’t just the lifestyle, though that, in itself, could be addictive. It was wake up, spend money, do copious amounts of cocaine, and party. The whole world was his playground, a never-ending cycle of excess.

But it was also the quiet moments when he was lost in thought, telling you some funny story, drumming his fingers against a glass of whiskey or scrolling mindlessly through his phone, there was an air of peace. Like you were the only one that could see him like this, like you were special.

And when he’d be fucking you like an overexcited jackrabbit, fast and eager, you found it so endearing. The way he’d tense up and moan when his orgasm would sneak up on him, how he would hold onto your chest when you’d ride him, the marks he’d leave on your thighs when he’d eat you out. It was hard not to be addicted. 

He was childish, to say the least, always restless, always playing around with people like they were pieces on a board, teasing wait staff as if one word from him couldn’t cost them their job. Everything to him was a game, a source of fleeting amusement. And you were no different.

But you were just happy to be along for the ride, caught up in the rush of his world, where consequences barely seemed to exist. Sometimes you even felt like you could be something more… He did nothing to dissuade you of that—introducing you as his girlfriend to his friends, taking you around like you were the most precious thing in the world.

He made you feel special, like you belonged right there by his side, and maybe, just maybe, you did.

You'd sit in your favourite seat, his lap, watching him half-heartedly engage in conversation, his fingers idly tracing circles on your thigh, his other hand nursing a drink he barely sips.

And when you'd get mad at him for ignoring you all it took was him whispering, “Solnyshko…(Honey)” into your ear, his voice low and teasing, and you were melting against him as you milk his third orgasm of the day out of him.

So it’s safe to say that he doesn’t take kindly to you saying no to him. He pouts, sighs dramatically, and whines about it like a spoiled prince.

As you lie in bed with him, he proposes the idea that you two jet off to Vegas, and you say, “I can’t.”

The look on his face when you say no is downright tragic, like you just kicked his puppy. He pouts, shifting onto his side to face you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm.

“I don’t think I can just drop everything and go to Vegas with you for a week.”

“But I want you to.”

“I have a job.”

“Then quit,” he says nonchalantly. You know he’s joking—or at least, you hope he is—but still, you’ve already taken too many days off, and your boss would definitely kill you if you disappeared for a full week to go gallivanting with him.

“I’ll pay,” he offers, leaning closer, voice all honeyed persuasion.

“That’s not the point.”

He exhales, exasperated. “I don’t want to go without you.”

His arms wrap around you, and you find yourself losing to your desires yet again.

“Ya by ne khotela, chtoby mne prishlos' iskat' kogo-to drugogo dlya razvlecheniy (I wouldn’t want to have to find someone else to have fun with).”

Your heart drops; his voice may have been sweet, but the implication made you feel cold. Would he really replace you so easily? Would he find someone else to whisk away if you said no?

“Take the week off. If the boss says no, quit. I’ll take care of you.”

“Vanya…”

“Yes?” he hums, pressing soft kisses all over your face, his lips trailing over your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth.

“Vanya!” you protest, giggling as his hands move, sneaky and relentless, to tickle your sides. You knew he was just trying to distract you, to make you forget your hesitations and make you say yes.

“Come with me.”

You sigh, already feeling your resolve slipping. And who are you kidding? He had you the moment he even brought the idea up; he knew it, too.

You were hopelessly, completely his.

“Guess we’re going to Vegas.”

Masterlist

[melshifting]

❝ THE BLUEPRINT ❞ ― JENNIE KIM SCRIPTING PACK ʚ♡ɞ.ᐟ

Request for: @reveriedraffs <33 ― hope u like it!

― Physical Beauty and Characteristics ⭑.ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your skin always looks naturally luminous; even on days when you do nothing special, there’s an effortless glow that makes you stand out.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your facial expressions are effortlessly photogenic. Whether caught off guard or posing, your features settle perfectly, making every candid look intentional.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your proportions always look balanced, no matter what outfit you wear or how you stand. Something about your posture and how you carry yourself makes everything drape on you just right.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your features have that sharp yet soft contrast that makes every expression interesting.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your lips always have the perfect natural color, effortlessly enhancing every look without needing constant reapplication of lipstick or gloss.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You are the epitome of a cat - you have sharp, piercing eyes, with high cheeks that enhance them to perfection.

― Vibe and Demeanor ⭑.ᐟ

You have that rare blend of warmth and coolness—someone who can be both comforting and untouchable, depending on the moment.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You never beg for attention, but you always have it. Not because you try, but because something about you naturally stands out.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You have a way of making everyday actions look elegant without even trying—drinking from a glass, putting on a jacket, or just tying your hair up.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You’re incredibly self-aware. You know your strengths and weaknesses and embrace them with equal confidence. There’s no insecurity about what you don’t have, only pride in what you do.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ While you can be competitive, you also play a protective role, particularly in making sure your close friends are supported.

― Skills and Talents ⭑.ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your rap style is characterized by its smooth delivery, strong presence, and unique cadence. You can switch seamlessly between singing and rapping.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your flirting is effortless, hitting the perfect note between teasing and mystery. You say just enough to make people think about you long after the conversation is finished.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You have an impeccable sense of rhythm, whether dancing, walking, or just naturally moving to music; you could tap your fingers on a table and somehow it would feel perfectly in sync with the moment.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your singing voice has a quality that feels incredibly personal. Even if you’re covering someone else’s song, you make it your own.

― Mannerisms and Habits ⭑.ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You adjust your rings or jewelry in casual conversations—something that makes people associate that tiny habit with you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You don’t rush. Whether it’s how you move, how you respond to people, or how you go about your day, there’s always an air of calmness.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You have a distinct, quiet laugh that makes people want to hear it again. It’s not loud, but it’s memorable.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You have a very playful way of engaging with people, often using your eyes to communicate.

― Fashion and Hair ⭑.ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your off-duty outfits are somehow just as iconic as your dressed-up looks, even in the most casual clothes.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You could wear the most basic item—jeans, a tank top, a sweater—and people would still want to know where you got it from.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Your hair always has a healthy, shiny look, even when it’s styled in a messy or tousled way.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ You often spend time curating your outfits, making sure they reflect trends and personal style. This attention to detail extends beyond not just fashion, but to makeup or hair.

[itadores]

love and like (it’s not the same)

note: i do hope u like this :( missing my baby (kento) a lot

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship (married), nanami calls reader dear & darling, emotional hurt/comfort, reader is feeling insecure

“Do you like me?”

From where he's seated on the couch, Kento glances at you, his reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. You're leaning against the doorway to the living room, arms loosely folded across your chest. You’re dressed in your usual loungewear, which consists of a pair of comfortable cloth shorts and an old shirt of Kento’s that you claimed as your own long ago. It brings a small smile to Kento’s face before he remembers that he has yet to respond. He raises a brow as your question fully sinks in.

“We’re married, dear,” Kento answers, eyes drifting back to the pages of his book - one that he's been meaning to finish for the longest time. He’s made it about half way through and hopes that he can make some more progress before retiring for bed later this evening. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too, but—” you pause. “But do you like me?" Your voice cracks, and silence rings throughout the room.

Kento lowers his book into his lap, the paragraph he was in the midst of long forgotten. Your voice sounds small and unsure and so unlike your usual self, drawing Kento's immediate concern. He looks at you once more, studying you more closely this time. Your body has folded into itself. Your shoulders are hunched and tensed as if you’re physically bracing yourself to take on the weight of Kento’s response. Your fingers are woven tightly into fists around the material of your shirt as your gaze remains far from Kento’s direction.

Kento marks his place in his book and sets it aside on the end table near the couch along with his reading glasses. His book can wait until later. There's something much more important that needs Kento's attention.

"Come here, darling,” he says, voice soft.

You move like a wounded animal as you slowly shuffle across the room, the mismatched socks on your feet muffling the sound of your steps. Gingerly, you take a seat on the couch beside Kento, settling your weight on the very edge of the cushion as if you're ready to dart at any given moment. Your body is wound tight with tension, the hard lines of your shoulder heavy. Your hands lay in your lap, fingers fidgeting with each other to relieve your anxious energy.

Kento covers your hands with one of his own and squeezes.

"What prompted this?" he gently asks.

You stop playing with your fingers, loosening your tightly interlocked hands and allowing Kento to slide his hand into yours. He rubs circles with his thumb against the back of your hand, trying to loosen the rigidity running through your body. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His thumb traces a path for itself into your skin. Kento is patient as he waits for you to gather your thoughts, aware of how difficult it can be for you to voice your vulnerabilities.

"I don't know," you quietly say, a tinge of frustration in your tone. Your shoulders are tight against your ears before you drop them, sagging. Your body wilts. "Just got too in my head, I guess. Started thinking about my relationships with people and whether they actually like me or just feel obligated to be around me. It's stupid I know but once I started thinking, I couldn't stop."

"Nothing that concerns you could ever be stupid, dear," Kento says, soft yet firm. "Thank you for coming to me with your worries. I know it must not have been easy for you to do so." He squeezes your hand before removing it from your lap and bringing it closer to him. He places your joined hands in his lap.

"I did not marry you out of any sort of obligation. I married you because I love and care for you."

Kento raises your hand to his face and brushes his lips against your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Of course, I like you. I would be a fool not to."

You suck in a quiet breath, and the spool of tension within you completely unravels.

The couch dips with your abrupt movements, and Kento grunts when you suddenly shift the majority of your weight onto him. Your arms wind tightly around his torso as you bury your face into his chest. Although unexpected, Kento is quick to adapt and adjusts his position to better accommodate you. He leans further back into the corner of the couch, providing you with more room to be comfortable. He lays his arms across the expanse of your upper back, folding his hands together, and rests his cheek against the top of your head. You breathe Kento in and exhale, melting into his touch and sinking into his embrace.

"Thank you, Kento," you murmur. He feels your words more than he hears it with your face properly buried into the material of his sweater.

He presses a comforting kiss to your hairline. "Of course, darling. I'm glad I could at least be of some assistance."

He feels you huff against his chest. A good sign. Kento's remaining concern unlodges itself from his throat.

This is not the first time you've expressed having these thoughts, and Kento is not so naive to think that this will be the last time that your traitorous brain will lead you astray. Kento only hopes that he can guide you back onto the right path with the little comfort he can offer you. If only you could see yourself from Kento's perspective, you would never doubt yourself again.

You stay as you are for a while, with you fully enveloped in Kento's embrace and your head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeats. He has no doubt that you must be emotionally exhausted by this point, believing that you may have fallen asleep with how quiet you've gotten. Kento mentally resolves himself to a night of numb limbs and a morning of a stiff neck and joints.

"Kento?"

Kento hums, mildly surprised that you had not fallen asleep.

"Yes, darling?"

You rub the loose material of his sweater gathered at his sides between your fingers, fiddling with the fabric. You peel your cheek off of Kento's chest, moving to rest your chin in the same spot as you look up at Kento through your lashes.

"I like you a lot. I hope you know," you softly say.

A soft smile paints itself across Kento's face. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before nuzzling his nose against yours.

"Thank you for the reminder," he breathes out, honest and sincere. "I like you too," he tells you once more before slotting his lips with yours. He hopes the kiss conveys all that he is unable to put into words. All of the love and care he holds in his heart for you. Kento draws back when he’s sure that your lungs must be reaching its limit without air, much to your displeasure. Kento lightly chuckles when he sees your expression, leaning in to kiss the pout off your lips. He lingers close, your exhales mingling in the space between you.

If Kento has to remind you of his devotion to you every day for the rest of your lives, he will gladly do so.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Why are u the best ? (10 reasons)

Y'all are my favs...

Good evening pretty souls, let me dive into your energy and bring the best of it out.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

PILE 1. 

Even when life feels repetitive or unexciting, you have a unique ability to see potential in every moment. Instead of feeling bored, you use this time to reflect, recharge, and come up with new ideas.

Conflict just isn’t your style. You thrive on harmony and always manage to bring people together, diffusing tension and making sure everyone feels heard and respected.

 Where others may feel dissatisfied, you find hidden opportunities. You see beyond the obvious, turning situations that might seem stagnant into valuable moments of growth and reflection.

 You effortlessly navigate through competitive or chaotic situations, preferring to focus on collaboration rather than competition. You inspire others to work together, not against each other.

 Even in moments where others might feel unfulfilled, your optimistic outlook helps you find joy in simplicity. This ability to appreciate what you have sets you apart as someone who truly understands life’s deeper values.

You steer clear of unnecessary conflict. Instead of engaging in arguments, you stay calm, centered, and focused on what truly matters, avoiding drama and negativity.

Even when life doesn’t give you everything you want, you are still grateful for what you have. This mindset allows you to maintain a positive outlook and inspire others to appreciate the beauty in every situation.

 You solve problems in ways that bring people together. Your natural optimism helps you see solutions that others miss, and you always strive for peace, finding compromises that make everyone happy.

Your energy lifts those around you. When people feel stuck or negative, your optimistic nature reminds them that better days are always ahead. You have a talent for helping others see the bright side.

 No matter how chaotic things may get, you stay centered and calm. You don’t get pulled into unnecessary conflicts, and your peaceful energy helps keep everyone else grounded as well.

💌: Do you wanna to discover 10 other reasons why you are sooo good in bed + moodboard, also you are the only pile where your current/future partner came through, so there's also 10 other reason as for why they love u sexually all on my ko-fi.

PILE 2.

* You’ve faced deep emotional wounds and heartbreak, yet you rise stronger each time. Your ability to turn suffering into growth shows just how powerful and resilient you are.

* After healing yourself, you instinctively help others. Your journey through emotional turmoil has equipped you to guide others through their own struggles, making you a beacon of light for those in need.

*  You embrace your vulnerability, knowing it makes you stronger. This openness creates deep, meaningful connections with those around you, elevating everyone you come into contact with.

*You don’t shy away from difficult conversations. Your emotional intelligence allows you to speak your truth with grace, offering clarity and comfort to others in a way that few can.

* Even when you struggle to fully trust your intuition, you’re constantly learning about yourself. You know your flaws and strengths deeply, which makes you one of the most self-aware people.

* Despite the pain life throws at you, you keep fighting. Your heart may have been pierced, but your spirit remains unbroken. This inner strength radiates in everything you do.

* Even when things seem unclear or you’re second-guessing yourself, your emotional intelligence helps you see through confusion. You know how to sift through the noise and find the truth within.

* You’ve mastered the art of balancing your emotions. You know when to hold on, when to let go, and how to approach situations with both empathy and rationality, making you a stabilizing force for others.

* Even when your intuition feels blocked, you still find a way to navigate through challenges. Your ability to persevere through uncertainty is a testament to your inner wisdom and strength.

* You are unapologetically yourself, even in moments of doubt or confusion. 

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

PILE 3. 

You have a vast array of dreams and aspirations, and unlike others who might hesitate, you boldly go after them. Your imagination is boundless, and you’re never afraid to chase what you truly want.

While others might be stuck waiting for the right moment, you seize the day. You don’t let life pass you by, and instead of overthinking, you take immediate action toward your goals.

 Where others see limitations, you see opportunities. You live with an open mind, always aware that the world is full of limitless choices, and this makes you incredibly resourceful and creative.

 You refuse to be stuck or trapped in situations that don’t serve you. Your ability to recognize when it’s time to move on makes you a forward-thinking, dynamic individual.

You possess the ability to dream big, seeing things that others wouldn’t even imagine. This visionary energy sets you apart as someone destined to create and manifest things far beyond the ordinary.

While others may get stuck in indecision, you are decisive. Even in the face of many options, you know how to make swift choices, refusing to let overthinking slow you down.

While many people get lost in their dreams, you know how to bring them into reality. Your combination of creativity and action makes you a master of manifesting what you desire.

Even when challenges arise, you find a way to move forward. Your ability to quickly adapt and make changes ensures that no obstacle holds you back for long.

Your imagination knows no bounds. This not only fuels your dreams but also makes you incredibly innovative, constantly coming up with fresh ideas and perspectives that others find inspiring.

 While others may wait for the perfect moment, you create it. Your proactive approach to life ensures that you’re always ahead of the curve, moving forward when others remain stuck.

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[kurishiri]

Alfons Sylvatica ┊ Your hand please, my lady

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow and characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— alfons’ story from victor’s butler collection event; i forgot exactly how many times sent were needed, but it was definitely above 400. i feel the need to say here that honey is sometimes used as a sexual euphemism...

— cw: suggestiveness and semi-public sexual activity. awkwardly translated smut.

[BLACK]

In accordance with the Evil King’s game, Alfons was to be my butler for one day’s time, and——

Alfons: My Lady. ...Lady Kate.

Kate: Mm...

Alfons: Morning has come— it’s time to get up.

A: If you don’t... why, perhaps a kiss may do the trick?

Kate: ...ugh, I’m getting up!!

[KATE’S ROOM]

Getting up noisily from the bed, my eyes met with Alfons’ smiling ones.

Alfons: Good morning to you, Lady Kate.

Kate: Good morning...

(I see, today was the day he was to be my butler... if my memory serves.)

It was unusual to see Alfons up earlier than me, so I couldn’t help but take a long look at him, when...

Alfons: ...My Lady.

All of a sudden, the distance between us closed.

Kate: W-what is it?

(He was saying something like maybe waking me up with a kiss, but...)

(Is he still going to commit to that, even after I’m up?)

He may be a butler for a day, sure, but such a thing was not necessarily beyond Alfons either.

Alfons: Based on your complexion today, I would suggest Western-style clothes. Does that strike your fancy?

With a pleasant smile, Alfons proposed today’s style for me, and I pushed down the question in my mind.

Alfons: Oh, and I will style your hair a bit on the lighter side. Between lavender and rose, which fragrance might you prefer?

Kate: Umm...then I’ll go with lavender.

Upon my answer, Alfons started preparations with brisk motions.

Alfons: Ahh, and while we’re at it, there is one more thing...

Kate: Y-yes!?

Alfons: What would you like for breakfast? Would some scrambled eggs, made with freshly procured ingredients, suit your palette?

Kate: ...Whatever you recommend is fine.

[GAZEBO - TIME SKIP]

Kate: ...Well, this is unexpected.

It was now the afternoon, and we were in Crown castle’s gazebo enjoying tea,

when Alfons tilted his head, the gesture graceful.

Alfons: Well, I’ll be...how should I take such a statement? My Lady.

Kate: I mean, when I was playing a maid [1] for you...

—— Flashback ——

[DINING ROOM]

Alfons: Are you aware of the purpose behind this kind of role play?

A: It’s to free yourself. To forget your ‘true’ self, so to speak, and setting aside both shame and reason...

A: ...and to focus solely on things that feel good.

—— End flashback ——

[GAZEBO]

Kate: But, right now you’re not playing around, and it’s like you are a genuine butler——

Alfons: ——and that you ‘fail to see the part where I’m focusing solely on things that feel good,’ I take it.

Kate: ...That’s right.

Alfons: Well, is that not a good thing then? What has you in such a pickle?

Kate: U-um... it’s not that...

Alfons: ...Ahh, or could it be?

A: Did My Lady Kate perhaps want me, her butler, to do naughty things?

Kate: ...!

Having hit the bull’s eye, my breath hitched, and Alfons giggled in response.

Alfons: Since this morning, you’ve never failed to make an unfulfilled face, no?

A: Goodness gracious, to think such a way toward your ever-so prim and proper butler, it would appear My Lady has been influenced by quite a bad man indeed. (＾▽＾)

Kate: Indeed. ...Said ‘bad man’ is a man named Alfons Sylvatica.

When I gave a name, Alfons shrugged his shoulders in jest.

Alfons: My Lady...if you do wish for such naughty play, then one order from you would be all it takes.

A: After all, I am your very loyal butler...so, by all means, go on?

He made such an invitation, politely waiting upon me, and those immoral, immodest desires were getting drawn out of me.

(But...what would be good?)

Alfons: Were I told to lick your shoes, lick them I will do, yes?

Kate: I-I won’t order that!

Alfons: Well then, where shall I lick?

(I’m not really sure what’s going on, but I guess the ‘licking’ part is set in stone...?)

(...If that’s the case...)

I took the honey pot that was sitting on the table,

and scooped up some honey, letting it drip onto the back of my hand.

Kate: ...I’ve gotten it dirty, so please lick it clean.

Alfons: My Lady has bad manners, doesn’t she.

Alfons brought my hand to his lips, getting rid of the golden honey.

Kate: ...!

Even after he licked the honey clean from the back of my hand, he didn’t stop there, his tongue making his way between my closed fingers,

licking and sucking on each of them like a candy bar.

The sensation of his soft tongue, his breath, and the wet sounds that he made at times...everything about it ended up feeling obscene.

Alfons: ngh... Are there any other places that got dirtied?

Kate: Here...too.

I took another scoopful of honey, this time dripping it on my collarbone.

Alfons: Hehe, dripping it on yourself in such a place...quite saucy of you, no?

After licking the honey clean from my collarbone, Alfons unbuttoned my blouse.

Kate: Huh...?

Alfons: The honey has made its way down, you see.

The honey hadn’t made its way so far down, yet his tongue made its way to my chest.

Kate: Ah...I-I’m fine now!

At this rate, I would end up wanting to do something very unbefitting of our surroundings, and in a panic, I pushed Alfons’ chest.

Alfons: You hardly seem ‘fine’ to me, though?

Alfons ignored my resistance, smiling with amusement as he lifted my skirt.

Kate: W-what are you——

Alfons: See...you’re practically bursting with ‘honey’ down here as well, aren’t you.

Bringing his face between his legs...he ate me out with my underwear still on.

Kate: Ahh...! ngh...

He had my knees pushed down, so I couldn’t escape.

With him sucking through the cloth, not touching me directly, a tantalizing pleasure came about.

Alfons: Hehe, how darling you are, My Lady...do allow me to take responsibility and clean you right up, alright?

Fin.

masterlist 🫖 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

NOTES:

[1] For those who may be a bit of a newer player (since this was a relatively earlier event), this is referring to a separate event, featuring Kate being a maid! It had Alfons featured as the ECB. It’s already been released in the EN server a while back, but I’m using my own translation in the flashback.

[im-not-a-ghost]

A message from a beloved soul 🕊️

Recently, I felt called to ask for advice from passed on artists that have greatly impacted my life. A few months ago, my role model and most beloved artist passed away suddenly. I never thought this day would come. Or rather I didn’t want to think about it. And lately I feel his energy very strongly. I thought that maybe some of you could need some advice from an artist you miss dearly as well. I’m sorry if this triggers anybody. I thank these beautiful souls that have provided us with light and love for all these years for their messages and I hope that wherever they are in the Universe, their soul is at peace. ❤️

Group 1

Letters : B Y I T J S L G K M U A P G D F Words : guys, tails, mask, Sag, just, Jiluka, Atsuki, July, Aug, days, pay, gay, Yumi, Yuki, Bad guy, kid, must play, guita(r), fly, BSK, family, silk, ask my pals if I still must (???), stalk, dumb, Mt Fuji

Tissue box messages : Singer, blue eyes, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Capricorn I CREATE Jan 20 to Feb 16, 6th house daily life I LOVE, 12th house Spiritual life I DREAM

Their channeled message to you :

Baby the world is yours to take. Fate is yours to create. No matter the pain, no matter the fears, no matter the obstacles, you must live on. Do you hear me? Live. Scream at the top of your lungs. You can cry too. But don’t give up. I am with you every step of the way. My wings will carry you for as long as I can.

Clarifications - 10 of swords, Black Numen, King of cups, King of wands, 10 of pentacles, 10 of cups

This artist that you are asking about knows that you are going through a hard time and that a part of you doesn’t believe in your ability to make it through but they want to reassure you because not only do you have what it takes but the outcome is going to be much more brighter than you could ever imagine. You’re getting there. You’re so close to reaching your goal. I believe that there are actually two artists that are surrounding you with their love. They are both encouraging you to keep moving, though you may not understand where this will lead you, though you may not see the bigger picture. Because after this period of grieving and emotional turmoil, of hardships and uncertainty, awaits a bright and warm future, full of joy and abundance. While one helps you heal your wounds and deal with possible depression/mental health issues, the other is helping you manifest success in all areas of your life by fueling your fire and inspiring you. You may feel like your creativity is boosted and your mind is fuming with new ideas. Both of them are masculine in their energy. One of them may especially connect with you through your dreams while the other would rather put on your way resources and people that are beneficial to your growth. The channeled message you received was from the one you were asking about. But the other artist still wanted to silently show their support. I believe that in their living time this person wasn’t very talkative but would instead show their love through actions. They remained the same in the after life.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 2

Letters : A V U S E I F S V N A U I M K P Words : miss u, veins, pain, pause, Suki, fave, fame, pave, Mana, Aki, naive, invasive, Nivea, niveau (French for level), suave, Kaname, kiss me, five men, fans, vie (life/live), Pisa

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, creative soul, dorky/quirky, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Ophiuchus I HEAL Nov 29 to Dec 17, 1st house awareness of self I AM

Their message to you :

My Jade ~ You are so beautiful. Your soul is so beautiful it shines all the way to heaven. God and the angels are so pleased with you. Seeing you grow so much has been my biggest joy and pride. I believe that you can light up this world and save so many people from themselves. But first make sure to save yourself, okay?! Love you ❤️

Clarifications - 9 of pentacles, The Lovers, Knight of cups, Judgment, King of cups, 6 of cups

You must prioritize yourself by choosing to give yourself the love you so willingly give to others. That much is clear. When the time is right and balance is restored, a soulmate will be sent to you to pour more love into your cup. They will come to you slowly but surely. You will recognize them by their piercing gaze and their powerful voice. You know them already. Wow that was very specific. There are a lot of water related cards, three of which can be associated with Scorpio. Then there is also Gemini energy and Taurus energy. I believe that in their living time the artist you asked about was a very generous and wise person. They were probably an old soul and had a hard time finding people they could deeply connect with. I get the feeling that you followed this person since you were a child and you looked up to them. They are a soulmate of yours. Their energy feels very balanced. I believe this person was very spiritual and always did their best to do the right choice and be the bigger person. They would always think of their loved ones before anything else and maybe that is one thing that caused this person a lot of sadness. Which is why they urge you to prioritize yourself. They know too well the cost of overgiving to others only to be left with so little.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 3

Letters : C N L C Z E K U V O T B E A V M Words : clean, zen, luck, black, block me, metal, zone, cat, melon, love u, meat, meet u at ten, note, bone, tune, name, bake, cake, Ameba, volcano, Kubo, Kobe,

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, bookworm, unconventional, Leo I SHINE Aug 10 to Sept 16, Taurus I PROTECT May 13 to June 21, Sagittarius I KNOW Dec 17 to Jan 20

Their message :

Dear friend,

I am so glad the universe has sent me to you. I am so proud of you for fighting for your dreams and doing your best every day to be a better person. You have no idea how much this means to me that you are working so hard to walk in my footsteps. My soul is filled with warmth because of you. Thank you so much.❤️ I love you too!

Clarifications - 6 of cups, 6 of swords, King of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Queen of pentacles, High priestess

This artist is a soulmate of yours. They had to leave for you to thrive. It was part of their journey to pass on to the other side for you to grow and for them to guide you. It was necessary because their departure triggered an awakening in you. Your gifts wouldn’t have woken up the way they are now otherwise. It was their duty to contribute to your accession to your throne. By that I mean that in order to claim your power and rise up to their level, they had to eclipse themselves and now evolve in the « dark » or in other words on the other side of the curtain. You and this artist mirror each other, especially when it comes to your careers. I would even go as far as to say that for some of you they are a divine counterpart. You are the High priestess. And I saw behind her the Magician. They were the spark and you are the torch that will pass on the knowledge. They’ve taught you everything they had to while they were living. Now is your turn to do the same. You can connect with this person through hard work but also by working on your gifts, especially your intuition. When they were living, they were very intuitive too. They were known as a hard worker and a force to be reckoned with. They inspired people to leave behind what didn’t serve them. And they are now trying to help you do the same thing they did : be a mentor and a guide for others, especially younger souls.