Smth Bout Pantalone Man.. Gotta Find And Take As Much Content About Him

THE ENDING SENTENCE OH MY GOD IT ITS GENIUS

#the memory of you (chapter two)

—it all starts when you saw someone who looked like someone you know in a game, only to come to know that it was him all along 

—(or) scaramouche gets transported to Earth and you have become a part of his story 

CHARACTERS. self aware! Scaramouche; gn! gamer! Reader

THEMES. reversed isekai; self aware!scaramouche; fluff; crack; angst 

WARNINGS. mentions of his real name; may have curses from reader and scara

WORD COUNT. 2k words 

NOTES. actually, you may read this without reading chapter one but the two are connected! chapter three will be out either before the 29th or by august but either way, prepare tissues because it’s certainly gonna make u cry 

The Memory of You; Beginning / Mean / End 

“You are so bad at this.” 

“What did you say?” 

You laughed, repeating your words with a louder voice, “I said; you’re so bad at this!” 

You were not even looking at him, but you could tell that he was getting irritated by the second, more so at his phone, his screen showing the graphics of the same game you had been playing these past few months—oh yes, good old Genshin Impact. 

“Why is he even so weak? Is he really this useless?! What a joke!” 

You peaked on his mobile screen and inquired “Who are you even talking about?” you paused, peeking your eyes to his game, “The traveler?” 

Keep reading

amen.

yum

Kiss your Genshin best friend to see his reaction

Summary: You’ve been best friends for a whilenow, and you definitely have those little feelings of maybe wanting to be more but you just don’t know how to convey it. So you take a leap of faith, put a hand on his cheek, and give him a peck on the lips. Something you’ve never done before. Hey, actions speak louder than words, right…?

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: inspired by an old tiktok trend even though I don’t have tiktok cause it’s banned in my country, lol but it was also a request by an anon, not proofread

Aether

Stunned does not even describe the entirety of it

He’s speechless and staring at you for a good five seconds before his brain starts to work again

“Wait, what was–” touches his lips to try and recall if that really happened or if he was trippin’

“Wait, hold on,” starts laughing at you and grabs at your wrist.

Proceeds to stare at you for another 5 seconds to process the information overload.

“Would you…wanna try that again?” with a loopy yet unsure grin

Keep reading

(ON HIATUS) 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄! : 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : Of all things, you became a seelie when you got isekai’d into your favourite game, Genshin Impact. You decide to make them fall for whatever charms you have left in hopes of being taken in as a pet to survive.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 : The headcanons need to be read in the order they are listed in (the regions are independent of each other) for it to make sense. The scenarios however, have no particular order. NOT A HAREM STORY, AND DO NOT MAKE REQUESTS FOR THIS SERIES.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (Mondstadt ver.)

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (Liyue ver.)

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (Inazuma ver.)

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (Sumeru ver.)

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (Snezhnaya ver.)

Gn!reader is reborn as a seelie when they got isekai’d into Genshin Impact (other characters)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒

Smile (Al-Haitham)

#seelie reader

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @sunlightocean / @alobaidlia / @bloopthebat / @fxaavt / @localpansexualsniper / @kiraisastay / @huboi / @hadesaedes / @iruiji / @patimiet / @froggingfrog / @crazydreamcat / @albiflorae / @nishayuro / @prettyboybaek / @pika-chip-chan / @ladycoleigh / @stellaris999 / @rouzuchan / @aggravatedaloesaurus / @sproutcorner / @alizaneth / @butterflyemi / @nejibot / @angryhope / @bleufrogg / @a-cosmicdawn / @pompompuri / @ariachaos / @kasseywithak / @redrosetrappola / @thinkingotherwise / @whatamidoing89 / @aixaingela / @r4yyyyy / @estreq / @lordbugs / @carmen-loves-u /

can we.. can we talk about how good and beautifully written this is???

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: artist!hyunjin x fem!artist!reader

wc: 5.9k

warnings: LOTS of tension, piv /unprotected sex and cumming inside, otherwise hella soft and lovely :3

Your footsteps halled through the emptied rooms of the University building you were so used to walking by, so familiar with. Every painting and sculpture – fragile sculptures, that you passed by oh so carefully, not daring to damage them in any way – were as though engraved in your mind, the gentle strokes and lines of colour placed so delicately onto every work, and you knew them all by heart. A smile crossed your lips any time you walked past the halls of the school you were privileged enough to visit, each and every piece of art representing the student’s talents precisely, students and classmates you’ve visited courses with, all different yet connected by one simplicity; the love to create, the wish to pursue an artist’s career.

Right before entering the room you aimed for, you passed one of your very own sculptures presented in the hallways of your art school, something you’ve created for the very first exhibition you were allowed to participate in, the memories of the day flooding your mind any time the art piece met your eyes. Admittedly, not with exceptionally good memories, the pressure and limited time and the judging eyes of teachers and professors wouldn’t let you sleep for days on end. But maybe it was for a good cause, because now that you were at the brick of graduating, experiencing the same old pressure and limited time and having to bear the judging faces or teachers and professors – you were used to it already, didn’t find it all that bad altogether.

Though, of course, the nearly unmanageable amount of work you had to put into your last project, into the sculpture that would decide your by far most important grade was overwhelming, caused you to spend night and day in the studio, the bags under your eyes a constant accompany lately.

You’ve made your way to your assigned seat in the classroom, your half-finished sculpture standing beside the table, wrapped in moist foil to keep the fictile in a shape you could still craft on, even after days of no usage. It was mostly dark around you, the room long fallen into a slumber it seemed, the only source of light the faint rays of the downing sun and desk lights that students forgot to turn off after a day of work. The professors hated that, scolded each and every one the next day at how much electricity that’d cost the school, so whenever you stayed overtime you made an effort to cut off any light source you didn’t need beforehand, simply to not get an earful the next morning.

It hasn’t even crossed your mind that another person could possibly still work that hour, as it was long after closing time already and you’ve always been the last one seen walking the school halls lately. But a couple seats behind yours you could make out a figure, could see eyes looking back at your fearful ones and you took a step back, until the darkened figure got up from its place and started to speak, suddenly, much to your displeasure as fear ran through your veins.

“Oh god, I’m uh- sorry for scaring you, I didn’t know someone else would come here--”

You recognized the tone as a hast one, words speaking a quick reassurance and you noticed you knew the voice, a male voice that you surely were familiar with but not enough to grasp it yet. Your muscles relaxed nevertheless after the wave of shock has washed over you, seeing it was simply another student that decided to voluntarily work additional hours just like you, maybe graduating as well, or just an overachiever.

You chuckled quietly, already finding amusement at just how scared you were moments back, and you were quick to mumble something back to the supposedly classmate that was standing afar from you – you were yet unable to see his face, the dark shadowing out most details in the room.

“Ah no, it’s alright. I just didn’t know…”

Your voice drifted off when the male finally stepped into the dim light of the classroom, revealing his persona, which – you couldn’t lie – made you gasp slightly. It was no other than Hwang Hyunjin, another graduate, not in your class though. You only knew him from friends, and friends of friends, having talked to him only a couple of times, those conversations stored in your memory as nice ones. He was smart and funny, a calm guy who didn’t seem to like the crowds much, always seen by himself or with a small group of friends only. He was undeniably pretty, and you’ve heard hardworking too, and those two qualities alone made him by far the most popular guy in school, making everyone fancy the boy secretly, or so painfully obvious that you’ve sometimes felt bad for him. You weren’t one to deny his attractiveness, nevertheless you have never developed a crush on the student like most others, figuring it must be his popularity that icked you off in a way. Or maybe it was an unintentional voluntarily thing, maybe there were butterflies after all that you wanted to deny, simply to not be one of many who wanted him.

You saw Hyunjin’s face form into a small smile after he recognized you, though his brows were slightly furrowed in confusion, given your unfinished sentence.

“Oh my god, it’s you, you uh- you scared me, I didn’t really think that anyone would like- be here either, yeah.”

You chuckled again as you fought the urge to scrunch up your nose in embarrassment. You wouldn’t particularly call yourself a social butterfly, and though you’ve talked to the boy more than one time already you had to admit that neither of those times you were fully sober, alcohol making most of the conversation as the majority of things you talked about were uni things and professors. You remembered meeting at a get together of first semester students for the first time, and then occasionally afterwards when friends and classmates decided to go out for a drink or two. So yes, right now you were at a loss for words, unsure of how to talk with him, what to talk about.

And if you thought about it, your slight social awkwardness wasn’t the only thing that made you as nervous as you were, that made your palms sweat just the slightest bit, almost unnoticeably. It was Hyunjin’s somewhat strong presence, if you could call it that, a kind of aura that always seemed to circulate him wherever he went, making everyone passing him turn their heads at him. It wasn’t intimidating, nor felt it intentional from his side. It was just there, making him nearly desirable in every sense of the word.  

Hyunjin cocked his head, gave you a smile like two acquaintances, mere strangers would give each other, and it was contagious, made you smile back at him.

“Yeah, I’m graduating and I’m- far not done yet… this was the only room open.”

You were aware, on your request you were allowed to use the atelier by night as long as you closed it after and handed over the keys to the professors first thing in the morning, and since that has never went wrong you were trusted by both your teachers and the janitor who was supposed to close all doors by 8pm. For out standers it seemed like special treatment, some students eyeing you whenever you stayed longer to keep working – at the end of the day it was your own decision though, and except Hyunjin you’ve never seen other students stay voluntarily, so if everyone else will lack behind while you’ll have your project ready and done it surely would be their fault, you figured.

After his comment you were unsure as to how you should continue the conversation, so you nodded at him, gave him a smile which you hoped looked like a genuine one and made your way to your seat. Should you restrict on using your headphones for tonight, to not seem rude while the boy was sitting behind, painting away as he did? Or would he start listening to music too, allowing you to dedicate your whole concentration on your sculpture as you so often did, without having the distraction of having to talk to him? Which would sound rude if you spoke it out, but you’d rather finish off early than holding small talk which surely would turn awkward anyways.

But the man started speaking, when he was halfway back at his desk again, leaving you with no option than to converse with him – which again, you had no problem with, you simply feared for the conversation to die out into something embarrassing that both of you had to bear with for the rest of the night while you were working away.

“Oh, this is your sculpture? It caught my eye when I walked in, it- stands out. It’s pretty.”

Hyunjin had a shy undertone in his words, which didn’t make his compliment sound any less genuine, though. He inspected your work, and suddenly you felt nervous, flustered. It wasn’t the first positive comment you’ve received from classmates and friends, yet this particular one, from Hyunjin, felt different. More personal. Which admittedly was ironic, given you barely knew the man.

“Ah, thank you so much. I- uh- I tried.”

You chuckled, and Hyunjin fell into a small fist of giggles as well, your answer more sarcastic than he expected. And though you feared it, the night proceeded with comfortable small talk you and him shared. It wasn’t a serious chat, filled with jokes and laughs, Hyunjin being as funny and witty as you remembered him to be, and talking to him was easy. It felt like you were close friends, almost, teasing at each other from time to time when the other grunted out in frustration about an accidental mistake, trying to fix it while the other merely chuckled at the attempts.

After a while of comfortable silence – you figured that two hours must have passed already, surprised at how fast the time flew while spending it with Hyunjin – the man several seats behind you sighed out in what sounded like frustration, tsking and clicking his tongue frequently while the sound of eraser on canvas filled your ears. Another mistake, you thought, though you decided not to tease this time. It was late, and given that he was a graduate as well, every wrong brush and line of his must be stressing him out to exhaustion – since you didn’t feel any different.

“Hey, you good over there?”

At the sound of your words, intended to help, Hyunjin’s eyes found yours and he chuckled in a somewhat defeated manner before looking back at his piece, eyeing it critically. You’ve realized you haven’t yet asked him what exactly he was working on, though you were of those people yourself who didn’t like others gawking and staring at an unfinished project, especially if it were experts in the same field. And maybe he was the same, so you stopped your curiosity to get the best of you with this one.

“Ugh, I’m not sure, I can’t like-- get the anatomy right on this one, I think.”

The man threw his head back in frustration, long, slender fingers – slightly chalk stained – running through his dark hair, pushing the longish strands out of his face. It bothered you, in a way it shouldn’t be bothering you, your eyes fixed on his hands before you came back to your senses again, quickly, giving your head a slight shake to get rid of the shiver that deemed to run down your spine, for less than a second only, yet you still noticed.  

“Uh- can I- can I see what you’re making? Maybe I can help out…?”

Your words were hesitant in a way; though you had to admit that anatomy was essential in what you were doing, and you’d claim that sculpturing years and years on end has taught you to have a decent understanding of it, so maybe he could use your eye after all. And the look Hyunjin gave you only confirmed your suspicion, his eyes almost pleading, already laced with thankfulness as he nodded at you, another sigh leaving his plump lips – you shouldn’t have noticed how puffy they were, how reddened pink his mouth contrasted against his pale skin, yet you did, especially now that you didn’t have a choice but step closer to him. 

You tried concentrating on the painting ahead though, which – now that you were directly looking at it, inspecting his work – you could barely take your eyes off it. You knew that whatever he’s been drawing for the past hours you’ve spent together in the atelier must have been nothing but good, yet it overthrew all your expectations; the canvas was huge, which was the first admirable factor you couldn’t possibly overlook, and on it a clearly unfinished though carefully planned out drawing that left you nothing but speechless in its gracefulness – it was only a sketch, yet Hyunjins talent was surely undeniable after only a peek at it. The pencil drawing showed an abstract image of a nude body, unidentifying lines and strokes all around it; you figured those would make more sense the moment Hyunjin would add some color. Parts of the body were left out in the sketch, haven’t been added on yet, and those precisely must be the spots Hyunjin struggled with. Understandably so, the position he chose to draw the woman in a tricky one, surprised he hasn’t been using a reference tonight in the first place, a model, or a picture at least.

“See, the feet right here don’t seem right. I didn’t think it would be too hard, I drew the majority of this with a model anyways, thought finishing this off on my own would be easier than it is.”

So, he did have a model after all, it made sense. Hyunjin cocked his head at his work, showing towards the part he explained to struggle with so you could get a better look at it. He let out another sound of frustration, hands propped up on his thighs as he leaned forward, and back, getting a look at the canvas from different positions. His shoulder blades moved visibly at that, pried up underneath his white shirt, and your eyes have forgotten the painting by now. The muscles in Hyunjin’s arms flexed and relaxed with every other movement he decided to make, and at this point your thoughts went a place elsewhere, too.

“You know, I modelled for references for a bit in my second semester. I could help you-- that way.”

Hyunjin’s head snapped at you, eyes opened in surprise and his ears a bright red; you knew you weren’t off any better. You weren’t quite sure where those words came from, suddenly, unexpectedly, and while you wished that he maybe overheard them; you everything but regretted it. You were embarrassed, shy now that you locked eyes with him, but the anticipation tingled in your fingertips as you expected his answer.

“I mean- if you want. If you’re uh- okay with it; the model is supposed to be- you know- naked.”

In a way, you two were acting bold, increasing the tension in the room to an extent that was soon impossible to let slide. Yet, the shyness and hesitation was nevertheless hard to overhear in Hyunjins words, blush now creeping around his neck and cheeks too – still, he didn’t break the eye contact, held his gaze locked with yours, and you decided to do the same, humming at him in response, giving him your wordless approval. And in that moment neither of you could merely predict what the next minutes would bring, how both of you would handle the ever-rising heat in the atelier, how your relationship would continue after this – would you be smiling at each other in the hallway, or simply look away in an embarrassed manner, shy to even lock eyes with the other in memories to this day?

You both walked over to the small area of sofas and chairs and couches that were scattered in a corner, your movements stiff and fearful almost, yet none of you backed off. Hyunjin brought his canvas alongside, placing it in front of a longish sofa, supposedly the one you’d be laying on, modeling on. The old, rough material of the cushions made you shiver, already thinking about your naked body touching where generations of students have been sitting, eating and drinking on. It shuddered you thinking of it.

And you weren’t sure if Hyunjin perhaps caught a glimpse of your expression, maybe saw how you were eyeing the sofa covered in mysterious dark spots; but the man walked back to where he was seated before, to the back of the classroom, and coming back he had his jacket in his hands, one that was surely too big on you, one that he currently laid onto the sofa carefully before giving you an unsure look.

“Uh, you can lay on that. That thing looks disgusting.”

Hyunjin gave you a chuckle, nervous, but it brightened the tensed atmosphere in the room even if slightly. A sound similar to a chuckle left your lips, and you mustered the creased up jacket he prepared, your stomach turning as you stepped closer to your seat. Hyunjin was doing everything possible to not look at you, it seemed, running around to turn on lights and get his canvas in the right position, or pick up different pencils and erasers that were laying by his desk; all the while he made no eye contact, purposefully avoiding it, and you took it as a sign to get ready yourself; to undress, if you will.

And oh, was it bizarre, the situation as a whole. When you thought about it, you must have gone crazy, the upcoming so strange to your usual behavior, so much bolder than your normally laid back persona. What the hell were you doing, and why? There was no reason to help a colleague, a mere stranger to the extent of undressing before him – though, for a reason you were unable to explain yourself, you felt the pit of your stomach flutter in what must be anticipation, a sign you’ve surely nothing but went crazy.

Your fingertips found the hem of your shirt, and you slid out of it with ease, letting it fall to the ground beneath you. You didn’t dare to even turn around, to peek a glance at Hyunjin, embarrassment coloring your ears already, your face heating up into an impossible the moment your pants and underwear joined the pile of clothing, too, after a while. You were naked, to the bone, and your body felt as though in trance – you were barely able to make your way to the godforsaken sofa, your feet carrying you towards it almost hesitantly, though wanting, needing.

After ages, it felt like, you dared to turn your body, dared to sit down by the corner – bum touching Hyunjins jacket, and you weren’t sure if that’s what he meant when he said you could lay on it. The man in question has not ended his scurrying around, still, his figure making its way through the atelier in what felt like an attempt to spare time, to prolong what both of you couldn’t believe would happen sooner or later.

“Hyunjin-“

Finally, the man stopped in his tracks, finally dared to convert his eyes onto you, your figure; your body. And you'd lie saying it left you cold when you saw his mouth falling agape slightly, when his eyes encountered you, before he sealed his lips again quickly, embarrassed, as if he came back to his senses. You took notice on the way his eyes wandered across your curves for what seemed like a millisecond only, as though not allowing himself to stare, to admire, before he looked back at your face, locking eyes again - and you'd claim to have seen a sort of excitement in them, anticipation maybe - or perhaps it was desire, the thing that's been circulating your mind as well, the very emotion, the very lust that has infiltrated your mind and body long ago, barely allowed you to think straight.

"How- do you want me?"

Hyunjin almost visibly gulped at the question, eyes fluttering in fast blinking as though he awoke off a trance, his body following movements that seemed unnatural, too stiff, too nervous. You didn't intend to make your question sound the way it did, but maybe it wasn't quite you talking, after all, not when Hyunjin looked at you the way he did. He made his way over to the chair, behind his canvas, giving your body a glance that caused you nothing but to shudder. He had an intensity in his presence that you were used to already, hence why all and everyone would swoon over the boy the moment they laid eyes on him. His gaze though, however, was too much, too intimate for you to handle, the depth in his eyes so much more than you could stand out. Your every fibre in you wanted to hide, to lay your hands above your body and cover up, simply to escape the proceeding look of his, a slow inspection he tortured you with. It wasn't to make you feel watched, wasn't to make you insecure - you knew he needed a good look of you to perfect his work, yet it was nothing but mind wrecking, given that he himself was fully dressed.

"Can you lay down? On-- your side, please, and-- cross your legs so your uh-. So you can't see... you know..."

Red color shot onto your face at the sound of Hyunjins stuttering, knowing very well what he must be referring to, his hands motioning to his crotch area vastly, his own ears burning. You took his instructions, hopefully the way he needed it, laying down and crossing your legs, trying to get somewhat comfortable, as much as it was possible. The silk-like underside of the jacket he’s given you was soft against your skin, the reminder that your body laid on it making your palms cover in a film of sweat. And you thought that Hyunjin must have noticed too, how his piece of cloth scrunched up under you, beneath your weight, the way it came in contact with your body, with every bit of it, and it took him longer than usual to get back his composure, it seemed.

A nod from him told you he was happy, roughly, precisely, but not quite yet, not fully. He showed you how to position your hands, your arms, corrected you in the position you laid in, found new imperfections with every closer look he'd take, it seemed.

Not imperfections he made out on you, though – in his eyes, even if you couldn’t possibly see this, you were the perfect model, the most beautiful reference he could wish for. It wasn’t necessarily the fact that you laid naked before him, though your body surely was nothing but distracting, the accent of your chest perking up before the curve to your waist lined the shape of your upper body, rounded hips protruding with the position you laid in. It was hard for him to not lose focus on the flesh of your thighs, how your legs pressed together when you took his instructions, how you obediently stayed in place for him, waiting for his further word. It wasn’t all that, not entirely. It was the look you gave him, as if you wanted this for more than one reason, as if you had another motive up your sleeve other than simply helping him. And your piercing gaze was nothing but screwing with his head, god, his mind would not stop circulating around you.

By the time Hyunjin has started with his work – it has taken both of you long enough to finally figure out the ending pose, with how worked up you felt, how stuffed the air suddenly got, how hot you were – and it was nothing but sensual. The way Hyunjin looked at you, so concentrated to capture your every curve and movement on his canvas, trying to get your body as realistic as possible, as possibly beautiful as you were in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way, sensual and intimate as it was; it was a simple task, between art graduates that knew each other merely and lent a hand to the other, nothing more or less. But the tension in the atelier could have been cut through with a knife, if possible, with the way Hyunjin didn’t once dare to forget to lock eyes with you after inspecting your body, and before going back to his sketch. His eyes would find yours always, even if for a second, so quickly you’d miss it if your own gaze wasn’t locked on him too. And you couldn’t find a reasonable explanation for this, didn’t understand how looking for eye contact, and finding it for a fleeing moment, would help him get this done any better, faster. Only if his reasonings were the same as yours, after all, if the turmoil in his own mind and body was as nerve wrecking as yours – lust and needing growing rapidly, with every pencil stroke the man made.

“Just like that, you’re uh- you’re doing really well.”

Hyunjin gave you a smile, sweet and somehow inviting, comforting. Yet his words sent chaos through your brain, your face surely painting a darker color as you blushed, unable to contain the shy smile that crept up your lips. God, he was attractive as he sat there, hands carefully moving his pencil across the whitened canvas, erasing mistakes here and there after inspecting your body intensely once more.

“But…”

Hyunjin hesitated suddenly, his brows furrowed at you, eyes going back between your body and the progress he’s made. Something was off, maybe your position wasn’t quite right anymore, given you’ve laid stiffly for several minutes by now. He got up from his seat, walking over to you. Coming closer, with every slow step he took, your eyes following up the lines of his figure until you were met with his face, the moment he scrunched down to be levelled up with you. Your breath hitched in your throat, the man so close to you suddenly you could nearly feel the heat his body radiated, against the sensitivity of your naked skin.

“Uh- can I just-…”

It seemed like he asked for approval, to touch you, maybe, to correct the perspective. You gave him a nod, a silent agreement, his hands proceeding to wander to the mess of your hair, before you felt his fingers on your scalp. He most likely needed to fix the way it laid, the way it fell above your shoulder, as it could affect parts of his sketching progress; but you felt no ounce of professionalism this very moment, the very bit that was left when the two of you have started surely dissipating into nothingness at this point, slowly but surely. And you nothing but hoped that he felt the same, that maybe Hyunjin would look down at you, would lock eyes with you and maybe screw the project altogether, would allow himself to shortly let his focus go elsewhere – on you.

His hands were fiddling with your strands still, his dark orbs – shimmering slightly in the artificial light of the room – wandered south, to meet your eyes. There was a pause, filled with anticipation, with excitement about the unknowing, with the need to figure out what the other was thinking, if thoughts were shared. Both of you felt the same desire, the same urge to dive in, to lean into each other, yet both of you were too cowardly to act on it this instant. Only shared eye contact, trying to get behind the others mind, to see past whatever you wanted to call this.

Hyunjins eyes fluttered down to the outline of your lips, yours did the same. It was short, the staring contest proceeding as quickly as it got interrupted. Until Hyunjins mouth opened, as though to say something, catching the corner of your eye.

“Is that- alright…?”

Unsure to what exactly he was referring to, you simply nodded. He could mean anything, everything, and you’d be up for it. Now that his scent was infiltrating your mind with the way he hovered over you in an unstable manner, how the neverending touch of his consumed your mind and body – the want for him was stronger than before, stronger than when you first noticed him, than when you first started with this bizarreness of a situation. So whatever it was he meant, you were nothing but alright with it, wanted it.

And luckily for you, Hyunjin was far braver than you, took the initiate the both of you saw anyways. His lips found yours, in a quick moment, hastily, yet the feeling of relief shot through your body, as if the immense tension got finally cut through, as if the air in the atelier got clearer, momentarily. It was a slow kiss, a soft one, as everything Hyunjin seemed to do. The feeling of his puffed up lips felt cloudy against you, and you sighed out in content, in awaiting. You felt Hyunjins hands disconnecting from your hair, finally, finding touch with your body, hesitantly so. It was noticeable in his movements, he was clam and careful, approaching your figure mindfully. While your lips were moving against each other, in a way of getting to know, in a way of exploring, Hyunjins fingertips made sure to stay in place the further he made his way across your curves, as though waiting for a sign of disapproval – only if none was found he kept his travel going.

Your own hands soon had the urge to find contact with the man, too, his shoulders suddenly so inviting, his arms so steady around your figure and against the sofa that you let your fingers dance across them. You felt every dip of muscle on them, felt the bones in his shoulders when you reached them, felt how his back flexed and relaxed in different ways when you let your palms slide up and down. And Hyunjin sighed out at that, his breath hitching when your cold hands came to halt at his skin, by the hem of his shirt. You didn’t allow yourself to make moves he might cut off, so you’ve waited impatiently until he straightened up and tossed the tee over his head himself, the pile of clothes by the sofa adding up.

He was breathtaking like this. Built, but not too much, proportions as though planned out by a higher being. You wanted to sculpt him, wanted to use his body to create art.

Your lips managed to disconnect from his, task harder than it seemed, the kiss you’ve shared until now way rougher, more passionate. You let your mouth travel up and down his neck, giving kitten licks to Hyunjin’s jaw, before finding a spot to bite down at, only slightly, only enough to draw color. He whined at that, and you thought you’d never hear anything prettier, anything more addicting than this.

His hands found their way to your thighs, groping at the flesh, tickling the inner, more sensitive part of them. And it took him only a hum of you, one that sounded like approval, and his fingers were fluttering above your core, finding touch with it slowly, carefully. One finger up and down your slit before the next followed, and by now you couldn’t bear to continue the attack you’ve had on Hyunjins neck, your head now falling back into the harsh cushions, mouth agape lightly. Instead, it seemed like it was his turn now, his kiss bruised mouth finding the bit behind your ear, nibbling and grazing the skin so feathery you barely contained the sounds that sinfully wanted to make their way past your lips. Hyunjins fingertips danced against your clit now, not daring to apply excessive pressure, but teasing you enough to, after all, get to hear the whines and sighs you oh so wanted to quite out.

“Fuck, what are we doing.”

You thought the same thing Hyunjin spoke out, the situation yet not fully settled. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it were your sleep deprived bodies, your overworked brains. Maybe it was all that, and the desire for each other – after all, it all well could have been nothing at all, and you’d still not complain. You loved this, everything about this, whatever it was, whatever you’d call it.

As an answer to Hyunjins question your hand wandered south, needy fingers teasing at his bulge, feeling painfully hard by now. Another whine passed his lips, his full brows scrunching together, his pleasure distorted face nothing but a sight to see. And thankfully he understood your hint, could read what your movements told him; he got rid of his pants in an instant, impatiently getting them off his body, and finally you were both left uncovered, bare and vulnerable for the other.

You’ve felt Hyunjin stretch you out slowly, and it was hesitant, the way your lips parted during, as if the only thing they’d ever need to do is stay connected. You’ve felt him fill you up, to the hilt, feeling every vein and nib against your walls, and he seemed to touch spots oh so deep within you.

The both of you sounded desperate, sounds of grunts and quiet moans filling the echoes of the atelier, while Hyunjin started to roll his hips against you. It was as if any and everything he did was meant to be agonizingly sensual, and soft, and loving. In the way he moved, in the way he created art, in the way he fucked. It felt so right to you, so infiltrating, you couldn’t get enough.

Hyunjins movements fastened, turned sloppier momentarily while the two of you never stopped sharing kisses, exchanging moans and breath, taking in each other fully. You weren’t in love, not knowingly, but this was all how it seemed. Your breathing started to hitch in your throat more frequently, and Hyunjins grunts seemed to grow louder, filling the room in beautiful sin while you chased after the high, together. Your hands not one left Hyunjins body, always touching, unable to disconnect from the feeling of his skin against you. And he was similar; his hands, much bigger than yours, having a grip on the inside of your thigh, while the other explored elsewhere, your chest, or neck, or waist and hips. It was as if none of you wanted this to end, as if both of you wanted to hold the other to not let the moment pass, to not go back to what might turn into embarrassment.

You arched your back into the man, urging to cry out in pleasure, yet containing yourself to only let whines slip past your tongue. It was overwhelming, in every way possible, when you felt Hyunjin paint your insides in nothing but white, when the weight of his body met yours, when his hot breath hit your neck. None of you where this would end, where this would go after all this, but for that moment, for the time being, neither of you wasted a thought on it while you laid in each others arms, while you melted into each other and breathed the other in, while you shared one body, like two lovers, almost, perhaps.

tagging: @lotus-dly @hyunjinoir @aeminju @n-bokhari @che3tobre4th @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie

this for you page really likes playing with my feelings fr 🙄

— 1 missed call from [Name] —

Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t call you back. Ignore the missed call, head back to bed, and forgot you forever. Forget the romance you once shared and move on. Forgot all the words of love that ever left his lips. You are not his and he is not yours.

But he can’t. He can’t possibly ignore you when you’re calling him at 2AM, yearning for him in whatever way you do.

So he calls. Like the fool that he is, he calls his ex-girlfriend of one year back.

“Hello?”

“Tsukishima…” you trail, and your voice is distant. So far, so small, so fearful. He hears your hesitance from one word only.

He wishes you could call him your Kei again.

“Why did you call me?” Tsukishima responds with hostility, for that is all he knows. When he lost you, his ways changed and his heart turned to stone. It seems that anger is all he knows these days, a hard tongue made of venom and stone.

“I-I wanted to talk to you.”

You stutter. You stutter and Tsukishima knows that you’re drunk. You have a few habits whenever you’re intoxicated, and a stutter is always accompanied with the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” is all he says.

“I know.”

“Talk to me when you’re sober,” he goes to cut the call, but a quick wait! is enough to halt his movements.

“God, I don’t even know why I even called you,” you whisper, as if speaking to yourself.

He sighs, “where are you?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“You went out not knowing where you’re going?” He asks, and it’s that condescending tone you hate. The one that pushed your relationship to its limit.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here,” you whisper yet again, a measly attempt at defending yourself.

Another sigh, another sign of disappointment, and Tsukishima finally speaks up.

“Go to the Maps app.” You mumble a small okay, and do as he tells you. “Now zoom in on your location and send it to me.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

You listen to him and soon after Tsukishima gets a notification. He doesn’t bid you goodbye, simply cuts the call and gets up from his bed. He heads for his closet, grabbing two jackets, and heads out the door.

He’ll see you for the first time in a year.

-

And see you he does.

You’re sat on the curb of the road, your knees pushed against your chest and your head resting on your knees. It seems as if you’re asleep, your eyes closed and body still.

He kneels beside you, whispering your name loud enough to wake you up.

“Huh?” You groan, turning your head to look at the man you can’t seem to let go. “Kei?”

There it is. It’s always sounded so sweet on your tongue, so sultry and intimate. It’s his given name, the one he grows to love each time you say it.

It’s bittersweet hearing it from you.

“Why are you just sleeping in the middle of the road? What if some pervert stopped by?”

“But nobody did,” you say, logic leaving you in your drunken state. You move closer to him, seeking his warmth.

You’ve always loved his touch. When you once called him yours, his body was always somehow attached to yours. Your skin on his, his heart in your palm.

He sighs, “get in the car, [Name].”

He pulls you up from your position, easily holding you as gently as he can.

“You never used to call me by my name,” you stop and lean into his shoulder. “I was always your baby.”

Tsukishima knows it’s the alcohol talking. That you’d never say this sober, and that there’s a possibility that you don’t mean any of those words. But his heart still hurts. It hurts so much that he feels as if he has lost himself. Lost all the progress he made to just get over you.

(But perhaps he never really stopped loving you, if he was so willing to pick up your call.)

He lays you on the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt for you. He drapes the extra jacket over your shoulders, and you remember it to be one of your favourites. You stare at him the whole time—eyes on his—but he refuses to look back. Not when he knows how easily his resolve could crumble with you around.

The car starts soon after, and you’re already asleep. Your head lays peacefully on the mirror, and Tsukishima wishes he could stay like this forever. In a world where he is yours and you are his.

-

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets.

He prefers to live in the present and let the past be the past. What has happened is unchanging, so why worry? Why worry about what he should’ve done, when all he has is the now?

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets. But he will always regret leaving you.

He knows that now, as he is in your bedroom, trying to find a way to change you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear.

You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, unmoving in the midst of all noise. That trait carries on to now, as he struggles to get your top off your body.

You squirm as he touches you. “Kei,” you whisper. “Why’d you pick me up?”

“You called me.”

“But you picked up,” you slur, “you could’ve ignored me. You were good at that when we were together.”

He winces. He knows you don’t mean it. You’ve always been far too kind to respond with such malice, especially towards him. Even when your relationship was walking on a tightrope, you never once yelled at him.

“Why were you so mean, Tsukishima?” It’s a rhetorical question, he knows it, but his heart burns the more you speak.

“I loved you so much, but you didn’t love me at all.”

“Don’t,” he immediately interrupts, “don’t say I never loved you.”

“You never showed me,” your voice is small, and he knows you’re about to cry. (Even after all these months, your habits remain in his mind.)

“I love you. So much more than you’ll ever understand,” he speaks with so much passion, that he forgets his confession.

He loves you. His heart will always belong to you.

“I love you too,” you cry, and a single teardrop grazes your cheek.

“You never deserved me.”

“I get to decide that,” you grab his delicate face with your rough hands. He always fit so perfectly in your palms. “I get to decide who is good for me.”

He pauses, resting in your hands and cherishing every moment he has with you. And it’s in your calloused palms where Tsukishima realises what he misses. He misses your presence, your love, you. Every habit that made him love you so deeply, he misses.

He will be yours again, he decides, as you hold him close. Somehow, someway, he will win you back.

AHAHSGSHSH OH HOW THE TURNFTABLES

i ate this up liekdksjejdj

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

word count: 2.2k

tags: fem! reader, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, unprotected sex, friends with benefits to lovers

a/n: happy birthday to my favorite insufferable nuisance. he’s probably ooc sobs leave me alone

gojo satoru doesn’t get ghosted. he does the ghosting.

he’s used to heartbroken girls that expect a call back, he’s used to bitter whispers about him after a one-night stand stays at just a one-night stand, and he’s used to getting up and leaving.

but he’s not used to this. he’s not used to being the one left, and he can’t fathom that someone wouldn’t want to text him back—let alone collect their things and leave him in the morning without a word. and truth be told, he’s a little wounded. he tells himself it’s strictly because his pride and ego and dignity are all tainted by your inability to comprehend just what you had scored and not anything else. because that’s exactly what it is, no doubt about it.

he’s embarrassed, not hurt. and it’s most certainly not because he finds you attractive—more so than he’s found anyone else in a really long time, and there is no chance that it’s because he enjoys seeing you interact with his students—he refuses to acknowledge that the warmth that spreads through his chest is actually warmth, and it’s a cold day in hell before he admits if it’s because he has feelings for you.

gojo satoru doesn’t do feelings. he simply doesn’t. that’s why he doesn’t care that you’re right here, in front of him—because there are definitely no feelings involved.

“funny running into you here,” you tilt your head, setting your bag down on the table. the cafe is quiet at this hour, and you’re on your lunch break. he knows you are, he knows a lot of things about you, and he wants to learn more. he can’t really understand why he cares.

“i don’t remember saying you could sit at my table,” he grins lazily at you. “i don’t remember you asking to join me either, but i wouldn’t wanna break your heart. you can stay,” he says smugly, and a small part of his chest blooms at the amusement that twinkles in your eyes. they’re a lot brighter in this lighting, and even if he gets to see them up close when he’s hovering over you in bed, he never gets to stare at them in this manner.

“you’re sitting at my table, actually,” you squint at him. “i always come here during my lunch break.” he thinks it’s funny that you lift your chin in defiance, it’s a quirk he’s caught onto quickly, and it’s endearing.

“i thought i’d make your break a bit more interesting today,” he winks, and even if you can’t see it through the blindfold, he has a feeling you know. and maybe that’s not really a good thing—he shouldn’t let you know him that well, but it’s too late to draw back now and he couldn’t even if he tried.

“i see enough of you in a day,” you groan playfully. “i deserve a break. from work and you.”

“you see me around often?” he raises a brow. “are you following me?” he smirks at you, making you scoff with a roll of your eyes. there’s a soft chuckle that bubbles all the way from your chest, and gojo almost gulps at the sound. your laugh is a sweet melody, and he could listen to it for an eternity before he gets tired, he could listen to it every night before he sleeps. and even if he denies it to himself, he sleeps way better when your warmth encompasses him instead of just the sheets.

it’s too bad you never stay the whole time.

“if i am, then maybe you’re not as good as they say,” you tease. “i’ve gotten past your radar all this time then.” he grins at the soft little snort that leaves you as you speak, and he also finds that endearing too.

he can’t remember the last time something outside of a sultry voice and skimpy clothes made him want someone this badly, but even just the sound of your laugh has him drawn to you like a moth to a flame. and what draws him to you even more is that he knows that if he gets too close, you won’t burn him. you’re not blazing heat, you’re a subtle warmth, and it’s what he needs deep down.

“i let my fans keep up with me,” he shrugs with a smirk. “i’d hate to let them all down.”

“ah,” you nod, looking down at your lap. instantly, there’s something that shifts, and he’s not sure what it is, but it doesn’t seem good. “don’t you have a mission today,” you raise a brow, and a small part of his chest aches at the way you almost seem to be dismissing him. and even though this is technically his table—he did get here first, after all—suddenly, he feels like an intruder as you stare at him.

“it’s tomorrow,” he corrects casually. “excited you get some more time with me?” he asks, but the cocky demeanor is never enough to phase you, and he can’t understand why.

he’s so unused to this imbalance, so confused why it is that his smug grin doesn’t get you flustered, but it never seems to.

“that’s a shame. i don’t think time is in my favor then,” you sigh dramatically. “i was counting on getting some alone time.” he wants to laugh at the subtle pout on your lips as you speak, and he wants to reach over and poke it with his finger, maybe even run his thumb over the bottom lip, but he quickly stops his thoughts from wandering elsewhere. suddenly, he remembers why he’s here in the first place.

“you do seem to never have enough time,” he hums. “is that why you have such busy mornings?” there’s a small hint of alarm in your expression, and in a moment, you’re scrambling to get up as you bite your lip.

“i…just realized i never ordered my dri—”

“i ordered it for you,” he interrupts. “it should be here in a bit.”

“i have a really specific order,” you avoid looking at his face. “i should go double check you got it right.”

“i know your order,” he says simply. and despite his tendency to never seem to pay attention, you don’t doubt that he did in fact get your order on the mark. sighing, you sit back down slowly, wringing your fingers as you refuse to meet his gaze, even if you can’t exactly meet it through a blindfold anyway.

“i uh…have a lot to do in the mornings,” you mumble.

“too busy for me, huh?” he chuckles dryly, and this time, as you look up, it really does feel like you’ve met his gaze through the cloth, and neither of you can seem to look away.

“satoru,” you whine, and the way your nails used to dig into his skin when he first used to bottom out contrasts greatly to how you cling to him now, arms wrapped around his figure as he inches into your cunt slowly. he starts to breathe more heavily, head finding your neck instantly as you seem to squeeze even tighter around him than the last time he’s fucked you.

“didn’t even do much yet,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, and he can feel your pulse as his nose presses against the skin of your neck. he wonders if you’re aware of his, aware of how your heartbeat is so in sync with his. “already that fucked out?” and if you weren’t too busy moaning at the way he pulls out only to slam back into you, hips angling to thrust right into the spot he knows by heart will get you going, you’d have bit back with something of your own. and gojo thinks it’s one of his favorite things about you, the way you never seem to go down without a fight, even if it’s him you’re up against.

“why are you hiding then?” you huff, and he digs his face deeper into the crook of your neck at your words, almost like he’s scared you’ll rip him out. he lets out a soft groan, breathy and drawn out as his thrusts continue, your walls squeezing around him with each snap of his hips. and even with the way you challenged him just moments ago, your fingers comb through his hair soothingly.

you whimper when he hits a certain spot once more, and he gasps at the way you spasm around him, sucking him in tighter, almost like you don’t want to let him go. the throb of his cock is too much. too good and too painful all at once, the climb to his orgasm muddling his mind as he fucks into you slowly, sensually, each angling of his pelvis perfectly precise.

“the view will make you finish too quick,” he rasps, and even as he chokes on a soft whine, he doesn’t miss a beat to be insufferable. you scoff, but still, your hips raise to meet his, and your upper body closes the gap as your skin touches his. your chests meet, and a wanton moan escapes both of you as your nipples graze the heated skin of the other’s. you can feel the drag of every ridge and every vein of his stiff cock, can almost feel the pulse as it throbs in your wet heat.

“or maybe it’s the—fuck, right there, toru,” you cut yourself off, and he’s breathing much more erratic now, panting harshly into your neck as he tries to stave off his high so he can meet his with yours. “m-maybe it’s the other way around,” you finish your earlier statement with a shaky voice.

he’s close, he’s so close, and it feels so good it almost hurts. you feel so good it almost hurts. it hurts deep in his chest, in corners and crevices he didn’t even know were there as he cradles you closer to his body, and he almost wants to hope the way you’re holding him is you cradling him too. and now, as you choke on cries of his name, as he finally pulls away from your neck to see the way you glow so ethereally with tears pricking your waterline, he thinks maybe he does do feelings—because all he ever wants to do is feel you. he wants to feel you deep within his skin, in his bones, and in his muscles as he becomes one with you.

and he never wants to wake up alone. not without you there.

“fuck, ‘m so close,” he breathes, groaning when you tug him by his hair and pull him into a kiss. he kisses you hungrily, like he’s been starved, a mess of lips and teeth and hot breaths. and he has been starved, he thinks, he’s been starved of you for so long, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. “f-fuck, cum with me,” he pleads, and how can you not give him what he wants when he asks so nicely?

your walls spasm around him as you let go with a high-pitched whine, back arching off the sheets as your legs wrap around his torso. with a loud grunt, he follows, choking on moans as he cums. thick ropes of cum paint your walls, and he slams his hips desperately into your heat as he fucks you both through your orgasms.

he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath into the crook of your neck once more. and if he has to cage you with his body to keep you in place, he thinks he will this time around.

“you should be getting ready for your mission,” you whisper after some time, and he nuzzles into you further, and almost as though you understand, you rub his back slowly.

“can’t help but worry about me even after i’ve fucked your brains out,” he teases, and the soft slap to his shoulder makes him let out a quiet, giddy little laugh.

“gonna walk out again,” you warn. “won’t even wait for you to sleep this time.” but gently, you pull the covers over your bodies, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead, pushing back the damp strands that stick to the skin.

“i’ll be walking out this time,” he smiles into your skin. “mission’s in the morning. don’t miss me too much.”

“won’t miss you,” you roll your eyes. it’s silent for a moment before you hesitantly speak up. “you fuck all your little fans like this?” you mumble softly, and his heart aches a little, throbbing in his chest.

“no,” gojo hums. “just you. trying to make everyone jealous.” there’s a small shift in the air again, a good one this time, when you let out a soft breath. and he catches your hand when you go to smack him playfully again, and ever so softly, he presses a tiny kiss to your inner wrist before he falls asleep, body curving against yours perfectly.

so say it ditto…

Yandere Profile - Tighnari

We have three canine boys now (Razor counts in spirit, it’s what he would want) and I love them so much. I love otherwise sweet boys unable to fully control themselves due to instincts and hormones overriding their rationality, I love boys obsessed with their mate, I love boys who have little quirks due to animal aspects of their character. I cannot stress this enough.

//yandere/noncon, breeding/impreg (and consequentially implied fem darling for some of the nsfw sections), drugging, homicide, knotting

 ————-

Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 7.5

Brutality: 4

Physical capability: 5

Mental/emotional instability: 2

Restrictiveness: 7

Sexual sadism: 3

Stubbornness: 6

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

When it comes to obsessiveness, his is a very quiet form of it. He doesn’t show a lot of outward signs of it, isn’t particularly pushy and obnoxious or even talkative. As a result, you won’t really notice anything “off,” at first. He addresses you the same way he does everyone, treats you the same, albeit perhaps a bit less harsh when chastising you or correcting you over your mistakes. If you’re particularly perceptive, you may notice his eyes linger on you a bit too long, or that you sometimes have the sensation of being watched when you think you’re alone, but it’s easy to dismiss as nothing.

That being said, you are being watched. He is the stalker type, although he doesn’t really think of it that way, not at first. He just thinks of it as concern for your safety. His mind immediately comes up with reasons – you drop things a lot, you’re clumsy, forgetful, you haven’t fully been trained yet, so on and so on, he can immediately come up with a reason as to why said stalking is justified.

In terms of delusion versus lucidity, he’s somewhere in the middle, and his state of mind in regards to that can be fluid and changing with time. For the most part, he’s essentially in a sort of blissful lack of awareness until something causes him to come to a sudden realization.

He knows he has strong feelings, and is maybe a bit concerned that he’s growing too attached, but he doesn’t sense the gradual decline itself, he’s just a bit short of being in-tune with his self-awareness enough to realize he’s reaching a point where it’s abnormal. 

He only realizes it once he does something out of character for himself, once his feelings cause him to act out in a way that shocks even him, such as harming someone over a matter regarding you or being caught in his stalking you. At that point, he realizes something is wrong with himself, and begins to grow concerned… but he’s uncertain of how to “fix” himself, and doesn’t know what else to do. But he hates burdening others with his problems, and thus, well, it only gets worse.

He tries his best to reason with himself, and he now realizes it’s getting worse, but he finds himself giving into the urges. Following you around even though he told himself he has to stop doing so. Watching you through your window even though a part of him knows he shouldn’t. It’s just too hard to resist. Thus, even though he tries not to, he succumbs to his urges and impulses, only now he has a sense of guilt and concern the entire time, which only gets worse in the aftermath, once he’s reflecting on his earlier actions. 

However, his biggest mistake is that, initially at least, he thinks he has a better control over himself than he actually does. He thinks that while yes, his actions are a bit obsessive, and yes, it’s getting progressively more so, that he will be able to stop when he needs to. He thinks he’ll be able to recognize once he reaches the point that he needs to really do something about it, surely.

He also does take a while to understand the nature of his feelings, he’s just not used to it. He starts finding himself drifting off into certain types of daydream fantasies, however, and upon snapping out of them (and getting over the embarrassment that brings), he doesn’t try to convince himself otherwise. That’s just natural, is it not? Most living creatures have the capacity for such emotions. He doesn’t have a very difficult time accepting it, doesn’t lie to himself that he feels otherwise. That being said, although he tries to ignore it, there is of course a natural, somewhat embarrassing sense of fear and vulnerability, as he has no way of knowing how you feel about him. He feels childish for having such a worry, for spending what has now become extensive amounts of time fretting over the matter, gauging every little action you take and everything you say to him and all your facial expressions by the likelihood that they indicate positive feelings towards him. He sighs often, burying his face in his hands when he thinks about the matter.

He’s incredibly protective by nature, too. He’s always looking out for others, particularly those he cares for. Which is why he’s highly likely to fall for someone that he sees as vulnerable, at risk. One scenario in particular would be someone unfamiliar with the local area.

Of course, it’s not your fault you were tasked with coming here, for whatever reason or another. You can’t be expected to know how to get around, or what kind of dangers there are, no one warned you… nonetheless, as it turns out, you were severely underprepared. You didn’t realize that traversing the rainforest would mean a significant delay, and extended traveling time, thus running out of food and water quickly, becoming exhausted and dehydrated, and more importantly, lost. You end up getting hurt, too, injuring yourself by tripping and falling due to the uneven ground, rendering you unable to move very far, collapsing instead at a safe spot at the base of a tree.

And you were just starting to really panic, ask yourself what you’re going to do, when suddenly it’s no longer an issue. So nice of this country to have people dedicated to helping people in predicaments such as this, isn’t it?

You’re embarrassed and sheepish about the whole thing, but he seems genuinely concerned and helpful. You almost feel guilty for the fact that he’s taking the time to help you like this. Of course, you can sense a bit of irritation from him as he lectures you on how foolish you were being, but you can tell he’s a caring, good person. He offers to take you to go get treated, even.

Oh, you’re eventually headed in the complete opposite direction? Then, it wouldn’t be good to put you even further away and leave you to find your way back through more forest that you would’ve eventually been through… hmm. Well, you only have a few scrapes and a sprained ankle. He can extend you some kindness, let you stay with him. It’ll only take a few days before you’re back to normal. How generous, right? Well, he doesn’t think much of it, he’s just doing what feels right. And that’s just as much of a fault on his part as it is a charitable act, seeing as how it will turn out once he’s attached…

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