#art radiating affection

[sacchiri]

oh no, anyway

[grimeshound]

UNDER YOUR SPELL.

masterlist.

word count: 4,329 (someone got a little carried away...)

pairing: in-ho x you.

summary: you haunt in-ho’s every thought, an obsession he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries—you have no idea the hold you have on him. when you get drunk for the first time, in-ho seizes the opportunity to show you just how deeply you’ve affected him.

cw: 18+, age-gap, dubcon (forced intoxication), mirror sex, first time, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, semi-public sex, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation

a/n: i’ve had this plot simmering in my head over the past few days ever since i wrote my in-ho hcs and it was practically begging to be written … manipulative in-ho my beloved

title from ‘under your spell’ by snow strippers, everytime I see an edit to him with this song it always eats so hard

---

Ever since he first laid eyes on you, In-ho thought you were the prettiest little angel to ever step foot in this hellhole.

You were nothing like the others. Kind, wide doe eyes, sweet smile that radiated innocence. He wondered how a pretty thing like you had ended up in a place like this. In-ho always did pride himself in his appreciation for the arts, all things with beauty. The moment he took notice of you, it didn’t take long for him to wonder what it would take to make you his.

You had joined a small group, after having met a kind man named Jung-bae who graciously let you in. Everyone shared their names, and that’s when you learned his. Oh Young-il. Except, of course, that wasn’t his real name. Just a guise, a character to play during the time he spent amongst the players. That didn’t matter, though, since you rarely used his name. 

“Sir,” you’d say. The times you did call his name, it’d be “Mister Young-il.”

The first time you spoke to him, you were nervous. It was hard not to be, something about his piercing gaze had a hold on you. Yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way you looked up at him, your voice so soft and deferential, made his pulse quicken. He’d do anything to protect you, and he did. Each time the games forced you apart, you’d come running to him the moment you returned to the main hall, your face lighting up with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, sir.” You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, gentle and reassuring.

You hadn’t realized it, but your attachment to him was carefully orchestrated, a product of all the high-risk situations In-ho would engineer to put you through. He’d swoop in at the perfect moment to save you, it made you trust him, made you depend on him more than anyone else. It also nurtured the little crush you were already dewasveloping, and he noticed. You couldn’t help it. He  kind to you, protective, and so devastatingly handsome.

Behind the scenes, he dug through your file. Orphaned from a young age, too naive to understand the world’s cruelties. Trusting the wrong people, you had fallen into debt, landing here. The more he learned, the more he was convinced—You needed someone to take care of you. Someone like him.

One night, In-ho just couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of keeping up his cold, calculated facade, he found himself teetering on the edge of his own sanity. The stress of orchestrating the games was always a burden he bore in silence. But lately? It wasn’t just the carnage and strategy that weighed on his mind. On top of all that, now there was you. Every stolen glance, every soft word you uttered, every moment in your presence had burrowed under his skin. You consumed him, invading every thought until there was no room for anything else.

He knew he was losing control.

When the last murmurs of conversation faded throughout the main hall and the players around him drifted into an uneasy sleep, he finally gave in to his impulses. He had a guard sneak him a bottle of soju, not caring how inappropriate or risky the request was. Rank had its privileges, and he wasn’t above abusing them.

Even in the dim light he spotted you, laid in your bed not too far from his own. All curled up and completely unaware of the monster disguised as your guardian angel watching over you. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He listened to the sound of your breathing as a guide, the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale filling his ears before finally pulling the bottle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. With a sharp twist, he uncapped it, the faint scent of alcohol wafting into the air around him. Sitting up in his bunk, he took a long, deliberate swig. The burn of the soju as it slid down his throat was a welcome distraction, albeit temporary. He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  

The alcohol dulled the edges of his stress but sharpened something far more dangerous, far sicker. Desire. Thoughts of you came to surface before he could resist, vivid and unrelenting. He thought of your wide, trusting eyes looking up at him, the way your voice wavered when you spoke his name. He didn’t stop his thoughts when they turned more and more depraved. Your quiet utters of his name turning into obscene moans, innocent brushes of skin escalating into him fucking you like a madman into the crummy bed he sat beneath. The way you clung to him, so innocent, so naive, so completely unaware of just how sick his thoughts would turn because of you. 

He took another long swig, his grip tightening around the bottle as his frustration intensified. How could you do this to him without even realizing? Without even trying? It was maddening, the hold you had over him. And now, with the liquor loosening his usually taut held control, he found himself wondering how much longer he could resist. How much longer he could keep his hands to himself.

And then, as if summoned by his desires, your voice broke the silence.

“Sir?”

He turned to see you turned towards him, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. He softened instantly, smiling lazily as he called your name. “You’re awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You climbed up to his bed without hesitation, settling beside him. “What about you?” 

“Me neither,” he murmured. He thanked whatever god there was that you couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t take a peek into the sick fantasies that had clouded up his thoughts just moments ago. Even now, when sat face to face with you, they played in the background— like a channel he couldn’t turn off no matter how hard he’d press the remote. Only, he didn’t make much effort in stopping them. If anything, the fantasies only shot up with you now in front of him. 

Your attention was soon drawn to the green bottle in his hand. “Is that… soju?”

He chuckled at your amazement. “It is.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “I’ve never had any before.”

His heart skipped. You really were too good to be true, weren’t you? He feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No. But..” You hesitated for a bit. “I’d like to try, if that’s okay.”

How polite. How trusting. He handed the bottle to you, hiding his smirk beneath a kind, patient smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”

You took it with both hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. There was a moment of hesitation, a fleeting glance at him as though you were silently asking for reassurance. He gave you a small nod, his expression warm and encouraging. Uttey deceptive. The thought of getting you completely wasted, rendering you impossibly dumber and even more impressionable than you already are rang like music to his ears. You tilted your head back as you gulped down more than he expected. He didn’t stop you, though. Simply watching with quiet satisfaction as you drained a sizable amount.

The first sip had your nose scrunching up, the bitter taste of the alcohol overhwleming you. Instead of backing out, you pressed on, curiosity and his approving gaze egging you on. With each gulp, you felt your body tense slightly at the unaccustomed burn that slid down your throat.

In-ho watched you intently, his dark eyes locked on you as the bottle tipped higher and higher. You were drinking far more than he expected, but he made no effort to stop you. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched your determination to please him override your inexperience.

When you finally lowered the bottle, your lips were shiny from the liquid, your cheeks already beginning to flush, something In-ho was quick to take notice of. Whether it be your inexperience, the quickness of which you downed the Soju or the fact that you haven’t really drank or ate much prior. The alcohol had hit you harder than you anticipated, working its way through your system with worrying speed. Your head tilted back slightly as you tried to regain focus, blinking up at him with worried, glassy eyes. 

“Sir,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I feel…so funny.”

He stepped closer, his hand moving to steady you by your waist when your knees buckled slightly. “Funny how, sweetheart?” he humored you, the concern in his tone carefully crafted.

“Dizzy,” You clung to him instinctively, your hands gripping his arm like a lifeline as you specified. “I feel lightheaded, mister Young-il. M’scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling you closer against his chest. His hand slid to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he held you steady. “It’s okay. You’re just not used to it, s’all.”

Your forehead rested against his chest, your breath uneven as you tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with something twisted in his gaze, though his voice remained tender and reassuring. “Poor baby,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand stroked your hair, the sound of his words soothing you. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

You were too drunk to notice the dark glint in his eyes or the way his smile lingered just a little too long. Too naive to realize how tightly his grip held you, as though he’d never let go.

Young-il led you to the bathroom, steadying you with a firm grip as you clung to him for balance. Every touch, every reassuring glance he gave you was planned down to the last detail, feeding into the web he’d been weaving since the moment he first laid eyes on you. You were his perfect little pawn, and now, more than ever, he could see his plan falling into place. 

When he knocked on the bathroom door, you were already bracing yourself for the usual bargaining and desperate pleading that so often accompanied requests to use the facilities. But to your surprise, the guards let you both pass without hesitation, a testament to the sway your knight in shining armor seemed to hold.

He guided you inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. Leading you to the sink, he turned on the faucet, letting the cool water rush out. “Here,” he said softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Let’s wash your face. It’ll help.”

You nodded, leaning over the sink and splashing the water onto your flushed cheeks. The cold sting sent a brief jolt through you, though it did little to clear the fog in your mind. When you blinked your eyes open and straightened, you nearly jumped at the sight of him standing right behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight against your back.

Your wide-eyed gaze flicked up to the mirror. He stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the intensity in his eyes made your stomach twist. Despite yourself, you wiped your face with your sleeve and offered him a sheepish smile.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer. His hand brushed your damp hair back from your face, the gesture tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Good,” you mumbled, though the truth was far from it. The alcohol swirled in your system, leaving you dizzier than before. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, it sent a warmth through your chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his tone low and velvety, each syllable wrapping around you like a shackle. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until now, his chest pressing lightly against your back.

Your breath hitched as something firm brushed against you from behind, and you let out a small, involuntary whimper. “Sir Young-il…?”

“In-ho,” he rasped, cutting you off. “My real name, it’s In-ho.” His voice had dropped even lower, and there was something raw and possessive in the way he said it. You blinked, confused, his real name rolling off your tongue before you could even think twice to question him.

“In-ho,” you repeated softly, as if testing the weight of it. “What’s going on?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “I’ll take good care of you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded too quickly, too eagerly, the alcohol and your long-brewing crush on him clouding your better judgment. “I trust you,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he trailed his fingers along your waist, his touch deliberate and possessive.

He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you two as his lips found yours in a kiss—the first one you’d ever shared. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it to unfold. You pictured your first kiss with a high school crush, maybe some boy your age who’d take you out on an innocent date. But all those dreams faded the moment you met In-ho, and now, all dreams you had were consumed by him.

You pressed against him, letting him take control as his kiss deepened, hungry and intense, like a man starved for more. You followed his lead instinctively, trusting him—because you always knew, deep down, he knew what was best. So when he raised his fingers to your lips, you hesitated for only a moment before parting them, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. His dark eyes gleamed as you sucked obediently, your cheeks flushing deeper under his watchful gaze. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and his breathing grew heavier.

Pulling his fingers away, he wasted no time in hooking them into the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them down in one hasty motion. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear as his right hand skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck.

You grabbed his wrist suddenly, your touch light and hesitant. “Wait, In-ho—” you murmured, your voice trembling with embarrassment. His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t surprised; he had suspected as much. But hearing it from you, seeing the vulnerability in your gaze—only stoked the fire burning within him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle, though there was an unmistakable tension in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “I trust you. Just… be gentle. Please.” 

He smiled at that, a flicker of something darker hidden beneath the curve of his lips. “Of course,” he murmured, his hands resuming their slow exploration. But in his mind, he knew the truth: restraint was never his strong suit. Especially when it came to you. 

And with you—so soft, so eager, so completely his, he doubted he could hold himself back for long.

His fingers, still slick with your saliva, trailed down to your entrance, brushing over it with deliberate precision. The touch made you jolt, a shiver running up your spine as you gasped. In-ho groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “Fucking dripping,” he mused, his voice a sinful rasp. Slowly, he slid a finger inside, the intrusion making your thighs instinctively part.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pressed deeper, his touch firm but unhurried. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt something like this, but the last time had been your own doing—fumbling, desperate, and entirely unremarkable. That had been just days ago, tucked away in one of these very bathroom stalls, shamefully thinking of him. Now, with his hands where yours had been, the stark difference had you feeling light-headed. 

His fingers were thicker, rougher, impossibly skilled. The sensation left you trembling, your legs threatening to give out as he worked you open. His other arm snaked around your upper chest, holding you close, his grip firm yet possessive. The position bordered on a chokehold, but instead of fear, it only sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

Your breath hitched as a soft, broken “Ohmygod,” fell from your lips. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter. His finger curled just right, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your hands gripped on In-ho’s forearm, knuckles white as you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying and failing to stifle your moans.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was like velvet, roughened by desire. He pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. His other hand released its hold on your chest as it moved lower, settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you.

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Uh-huh… feels so good, sir,”

That made him chuckle, a deep, dark sound that reverberated through your body. The honorific sent a thrill down his spine, his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants.

“You’re ready,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pulled back just enough to tug his waistband down. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide as you took him in, the sight was intimidating, your head reeling. 

"In-ho, I–I don’t think I can take that." Your voice faltered, a hint of shame creeping into your words. He laughed, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of hearty laugh you'd grown so used to hearing from him. But now, there was something different—something darker layered beneath it, like a cruel mockery. "Course you can, angel," he said, his tone smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. "I know you can. Let me take care of you."

“H-Here? Like this?” you asked, your voice small and unsure, referring to the state he had you in—bent over the sink and in front of the mirror. utterly at his mercy.

He leaned in, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze back at your reflection. “Right here,” he confirmed, his voice a low growl. Want you to watch yourself while I’m fucking you open.”

The vulgarity of his words sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching for him. You nodded, too dazed and drunk to do anything else, and he didn’t waste another second.

He slid inside slowly, the stretch making you cry out and grip the sink tighter. The initial sting was sharp, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, something so intense it left you gasping. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you leaned harder against the sink for support.

“In-ho… In-ho,” you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a chant. “Sir… I— I feel you in my stomach.”

The confession had him groaning, a sound so guttural it made your knees weak. “Yeah? Fuck, baby.” He babbled as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand trailed down with deliberate slowness. When his palm flattened against your stomach, his fingers brushing over the faint outline of him inside you, your breath hitched. 

“Feel that?” he murmured, his composure slipping as he began to move. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust deliberate and punishing. You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping as he pressed down, sending a shockwave through your body. “In-ho, nngh!—“ 

You were completely out of it, your thoughts a tangled haze, your body slack and pliant in his hands. The alcohol coursing through your veins had stripped away every layer of hesitation, leaving you wide open to his manipulations. And In-ho, oh, he reveled in it. The way your voice slurred when you called his name, the way your movements were unsteady, dependent on him for every step and touch—it all fueled his sick delight. You were better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

As he pulled you closer, pressing into you from behind, your gaze flicked to the bathroom door, a flicker of worry breaking through your drunken stupor. “In-ho…” you mewled, voice soft as you felt your body jerk with each rough thrust he made.. “What if–ah!—someone walks in?”

He paused, his hands resting possessively on your hips, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his voice low and soothing, though there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his tone. “The guards won’t come.” His confidence sent a shiver through you, but you weren’t entirely convinced. “But… but what if another player—”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours before you could finish your sentence. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re with me. They wouldn’t dare.”

Something about the absolute certainty, the power in his voice—had your anxiety ebbing away, replaced by a strange sense of safety. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch, your inhibitions melting once again under his spell.

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Mmhm,” You squeaked out through laboured breaths. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you back against him. He watched your reflection as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, relishing the way you gasped and arched into his touch.

Your head lolled slightly, your body swaying under his hold. “Mmmh…I feel so dizzy,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands moving to steady you. “That’s just the soju, sweetheart,” he said, though he didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

He loved seeing you like this. Drunk, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Every soft whimper, every stumble, every little movement that showed how completely you relied on him only fueled his desire. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

As his fingers grazed your skin, he couldn’t resist pushing you further, testing your reactions as he pushed your buttons. “You know,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, “Y’look so pretty like this. All fucked out and needy. Just for me.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressed against him. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his voice a velvety purr. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. “Just look at yourself, baby. See how perfect you are for me?”

Your hazy eyes flicked to the mirror, taking in the sight of the two of you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, his expression raw and predatory. The way he looked at you—it was almost too much. Your cheeks burned, and you averted your eyes, biting your lip.

He wasn’t having that. His hand left your waist, fingers gently gripping your chin and turning your face back toward the mirror. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to watch. Watch yourself while I take care of you.”

The authority in his voice sent a thrill through you, your body trembling as you nodded weakly. “O-okay—ah, fuck!”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

As his hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moans that spilled from your lips. Every touch, every word, every look from him pulled you deeper into the fog of your drunken desire, leaving you utterly helpless in his grasp.

And In-ho? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin, your muffled cries, and his filthy murmurs. “Thaat’s it, there’s my pretty girl.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking take it. Just like that.”

Every thrust sent you higher, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure. Your mind was fogged, the world around you turning into nothing but a senseless blur. And yet, you felt every little sensation In-ho fed you, each rough snap of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt your climax building, overwhelming and unstoppable. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready to let go—but his hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a sharp slap bringing you back.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice authoritative. “None of that. You keep your eyes on me when I fill you up. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, gasping as you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze once again through the mirror—the sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out his name.

The sight of you coming undone beneath him was his undoing. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. A deep groan tore from his chest, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he rode out his high.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. In-ho steadied you, his hands gentle now as he helped you stand. He brushed your hair back, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“If we get out of here alive…” A sheepish smile spread across your face, “Let’s drink again sometime?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “When we get out,” he corrected, his tone laced with quiet determination. He kissed you once more, sealing the promise. And he meant it. If it meant keeping you by his side, he’d kill every last player in the game with his bare hands.

[muniimyg]

♡ 03: where art thou? why not upon-eth me?

series m.list // taglist

note: u can all thank my prof for pushing back my case study due date 😍 ,, tbh i give u cute moments in this pt and then i ruin ur life at the end <3 flood my asks and i'll update soon HAHAH ,, mwwaaaa

warnings: oc flirts with jk a lot ,, smut (sort of) ,, oc slaps jk ,, big fight lol

//

for obvious reasons, that car ride changed everything. 

it’s like a switch flips in your mind, a new experiment, a new challenge. you’re determined to push him. test him. see how far you can go without him snapping.

so, the week begins and you take notes. like a scientist, you’re methodical. 

careful.

but your methods are anything but innocent. 

you're testing him with everything you can think of: words, touches, close proximity—anything to see how he reacts. 

and fuck, does he react.

when monday rolls around, you start subtle. 

you’re sending him texts, clingy and cute, with just the right amount of affection to make his insides churn. you’re expecting a response, something—anything. but when the texts go unanswered for hours, your smile falters for just a second. 

his replies come in cold, sparse, detached.

nerd [12:13PM]: u’re trying too hard  nerd [12:18PM]: stfu for the rest of the day, yea?

on tuesday night, you attempt to perfect the art of being close without overdoing it. 

it’s a delicate balance—teasing the line between friendly and intimate, but you feel confident… partly because the circumstances are on your side. mentally, you thank jimin for inviting you over to join their movie night. 

as you sit next to him on the couch, your body just a little too close, brushing against him ever so slightly. your shoulder presses against his, the fabric of your shirt grazing his skin. 

it’s subtle, but it’s enough to make him feel the weight of your presence beside him. you watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for any sign, any reaction. his eyes stay glued to the screen, but you catch the subtle tension in his shoulders. 

you can feel it in the way his muscles tighten, like he’s aware but is trying to pretend otherwise.

you don’t pull away. 

instead, you lean in further, your body pressing against his just a little bit more. you can feel the heat radiating from him, and it makes your heart race. you let your head gently rest on his shoulder, letting the weight of it fall naturally.

for a moment, his body is still, like he’s frozen in place. his breathing stays steady, controlled, but you can tell he’s aware. his jaw tightens ever so slightly, and you notice the way his fingers twitch, like they’re itching to push you away, but he doesn’t. his hand, though relaxed, sits just inches from yours, and you can almost feel the friction between the two of you, an invisible force keeping you both in place.

"are you serious?" he glares at you.

you take note that his voice is flat but tinged with something else—like he’s trying to convince himself this is all just a joke.

you smile, pretending to play innocent. 

“what?”

“___…” he warns. “… fuck. whatever.”

“yeah?” you tease. “whatever? jungkook, i’m just sitting here, enjoying the movie," you say, tone light, as if there’s nothing unusual about the way your body is pressed so close to his.

he shifts uncomfortably, but you can tell it’s not a total rejection. 

his arm, once resting by his side, is now slightly tense, fingers flexing just a bit. 

“you’re really pushing it today," he adds, his voice gruff, but there’s no real bite behind it—just a hint of reluctant amusement. “the guys will notice.”

you don’t move.

you just stay there, head still resting against his shoulder, feeling the way his body stays taut beneath you. 

“let them.”

his jaw tightens again, but he doesn’t push you away. 

instead, his arm stiffens where it rests against the back of the couch, like he’s holding himself back. 

“you comfortable?”

“mhm,” you answer half-heartedly. 

“with me?" he says, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you sideways. "keep lying to yourself. you should quit this shit soon.”

you smile knowingly.

his words are harsher than he means them to be, but his body says otherwise. he’s not pulling away, not really. his chest rises and falls with a quiet exhale, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

“if it’s so shit, then you move." you murmur, pressing just a little closer.

he shakes his head, his hand twitching again like he’s about to do something, but he doesn’t. 

instead, he leans his head back against the couch and tries to focus on the movie. you can tell he’s trying to hide the way his breath catches whenever you get too close, but you notice it all the same.

the silence settles, but it's different now. 

you’re closer, and you can feel the way the tension thickens. he doesn’t push you away, and he doesn’t pull closer, but his body is no longer stiff. 

there’s a slight shift—a crack in the armor, just enough for you to know you’re making progress.

when wednesday arrives, the tension between you and jungkook shifts. you can feel it in the air—a subtle change, like a shift in the current. you’ve pushed him just enough that now, you know he’s starting to feel something. 

maybe it’s curiosity, maybe irritation, but whatever it is, it’s there. 

and that’s when you go for it.

you’ve intruded his home for the 2nd time this week (thank you yoongi for the emergency key). you’re standing behind him as he fiddles with something at the counter. you glance at him, making sure the space between you is just close enough that you can brush up against him without making it too obvious. 

you take your time as you lean across the counter to grab a mug. 

the movement is slow and deliberate. you make sure your boobs brush against his arm as you do. he’s taller than you so no matter what; it’s inevitable. 

he’ll see what you intend for him to see.

it’s casual like you’re just going about your business… but you watch him carefully, studying his reaction. his body stiffens for the briefest second. his eyes flicker, narrowing, before he quickly schools his features again, turning away slightly. 

but you see it—you feel the way his jaw tightens, the way his shoulders shift. 

it’s all there, even though he tries to play it cool.

you don’t move away. 

instead, you linger just a little longer, standing closer than you need to, your body just a bit too close to his. you watch as his eyes flicker, the smallest hint of frustration in his gaze, before it softens into something you can’t quite place. 

maybe it’s confusion. maybe it’s something more.

“you look handsome today,” you say, the words slipping out with that playful, almost too-casual tone. though your voice is light, there’s a little challenge in it. you know how it sounds, and you know it’s enough to get under his skin.

for a moment, there’s a beat of silence. 

he doesn’t flinch. 

doesn’t even look at you directly. 

… but you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, and when you glance at him, you see his lips pressed together tightly. his face is impassive, but you know better. he’s holding back, trying to keep it together.

“cut it out,” he utters under his breath. 

it’s not the sharp command you expect, though. it’s more like a warning. like, he’s not sure what to do with the way you’re pushing him. his gaze flickers down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he quickly looks away.

you grin, knowing you’ve struck a nerve. 

then, you pull back just slightly, but you don’t move too far. you keep your body close, letting the space between you linger with tension. slowly, your eyes flicker to his, catching the way his gaze darts between your eyes and lips, and the flicker of hesitation in his expression.

you know it’s working. 

the coldness is a mask, a shield, but it’s starting to crack. the way his body tightens ever so slightly, the way his breath hitches for a fraction of a second, it’s all the proof you need. he’s trying to pretend he’s not affected, but you can see through it.

innocently, you tilt your head, studying him. 

"what’s wrong, jungkook?" you ask, your tone dripping with false sweetness. "did i make you uncomfortable? or just horny?”

he looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again, but you see the shift in him. 

he’s not as cold as he wants to be. 

there’s something softer in the way he looks at you now, the way his shoulders relax just a little. but the silence stretches between you, and you can feel the unspoken words beginning to weigh in.

jungkook stays quiet but the tension is undeniable, and you know—you know—he’s not as unaffected as he wants to be.

on thursday, you decide to be a menace.

the timing has to be perfect, so you wait outside jungkook’s lecture hall, pretending to be on your phone. 

when the doors open, students file out in waves, and there he is—black hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. he’s walking with a few of his classmates, casually chatting. you wait until he’s just a few feet away before stepping into his path.

the bump is perfectly orchestrated. 

your shoulder brushes his, and your notebook, pens, and phone all tumble to the ground with an exaggerated clatter.

“oh no…” you sigh dramatically, crouching down immediately to gather your scattered belongings. jungkook stops, his classmates following suit, their conversation halting as they glance at you and then down at your outfit—a fitted crop top and a tiny skirt that rides up a little too much when you kneel.

you hear a low whistle from one of the guys behind jungkook.

“damn,” someone murmurs, and that’s all it takes for him to snap. 

his jaw tightens as he bends down next to you, shoving your phone and notebook into a messy pile before grabbing your forearm, and making you stand.

“seriously?” he mutters, glancing behind him at his classmates, who are still ogling. “you couldn’t wait to drop all this somewhere without an audience?”

you blink innocently, brushing off your skirt as you stand. 

“it was an accident,” you pout at him. “but thanks for helping.”

his glare softens, but only slightly. he bends down again, this time crouching low and deliberately blocking the view of his classmates as he picks up your things.

“wanna introduce me to your nerd friends—“

when he straightens up, he thrusts the pile into your hands, but before you can even say anything, he asks, “where are you going?”

you hesitate, taken aback by the question. “uh, the other side of campus...”

jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. 

“i’ll walk you.”

“really?” you say, surprised, but already grinning. he looks like he regrets offering the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take it back. “you don’t have to. did you have a meeting or something with your marine conservation club?” 

he tilts his head at you. 

“what? i’m not mr. save the dolphins today? your tiny brain actually remembers my club name?”

you shrug.

“i’m not that dumb.”

“so you say,” he grumbles. “but yeah. i do have a meeting. i’ll just attend it late.”

gasping, you let out a last-minute squeal. “mr. perfect attendance is tarnishing his rep for me?”

“it’s fine,” he says flatly, glancing back at his friends and muttering something about catching up with them later. before you can tease any further, he’s taking your notebook and phone from your hands, tucking them under his arm as if it’s his duty now.

as the two of you walk, you chatter away, filling the silence. 

normally, he’d roll his eyes or tell you to be quiet, but today, he listens. 

he nods occasionally, even hums in acknowledgment, though his eyes are straight ahead, his expression carefully neutral. you can’t help but notice, though, the way his hand finds its way to your waist—lightly at first, almost hesitant, but then it lingers, his fingers splayed across your side as though keeping you close.

and then, as if his subconscious takes over, his hand slips lower, brushing against the curve of your ass. your steps falter for a moment, and you turn to look at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“jungkook?” you say, arching a brow. “y-your hand…”

he blinks, glances down, and quickly pulls his hand back, shoving it into the pocket of his hoodie as it burns him. 

“shut up,” he hushes you, his ears turning red. "you wanna act like an ass? at least give me some."

you laugh, loud and unapologetic, and he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

but you notice the way his shoulders are less tense now, the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he doesn’t say anything as he walks you the rest of the way, carrying your things like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

on friday, you leave him alone.

no texts, no calls, and no showing up.

by 2pm; jeon jungkook realizes he misses you.

so, jungkook caves.

nerd [3:02PM]: wya? nerd [3:04PM]: come over :/ yn [3:08PM]: hiii yn [3:08PM]: what for ? nerd [3:09PM]: sent image attachment nerd [3:09PM]: figure it out ?

you don’t see jungkook until saturday night.

… which, isn’t too bad considering it would’ve just been like… a day and half since he last saw you—but it was bad. 

jungkook ran through all the possibilities in his head. 

could he be sick?

could he be undergoing some sort of unconscious stress that’s leading him to feel this way about you? 

or… was it finally time for him to accept the truth?

when the doorbell rings, jungkook wants to answer it. 

but he stops himself.

he isn’t easy. 

he doesn’t want to be. 

instead, he lets one of the guys answer it. 

as you walk into the room, you’re greeted with the view of the guys are lounging around, a few beers and snacks spread across the coffee table. jungkook is in his usual spot, slouched in the corner of the couch, his hood up, legs stretched out like he owns the place.

he looks up when you enter, his dark eyes flicking to yours for just a second before darting away, as if the sight of you doesn’t make his heart trip over itself. you catch the subtle change in his posture—he straightens ever so slightly, his legs pulling in just a bit, his shoulders losing their slump.

“hi,” you call out, your voice light and warm as you shrug off your coat.

he nods at you, keeping his face neutral. 

“hey,” he replies, the word coming out gruff, almost dismissive, but you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers as you move to take a seat. 

you plop down on the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh brushes his. he stiffens at the contact, his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, but he doesn’t shift away.

“mad at me?” you tease, tilting your head to look at him, your lips quirking into a grin.

he looks at you funny. 

“why would i be?”

you shrug.

“you aren’t greeting me like the way i want you to.”

he leans forward. “how do you want me to greet you?”

you pause, pretending to take a moment to think. then, you take his hand and gently place it on your upper inner thigh. his eyes widen and you stroke his hand gently. 

“wanna—”

he scoffs, his expression carefully guarded. jungkook catches your bluff.

“god, you’re annoying.”

yet, the corner of his mouth betrays him, twitching upward just a little.

you giggle and then push his hand off. 

the banter is effortless, the tension between you subtle but electric. 

throughout the evening, you’re all warmth and light, leaning into him when you laugh, your hand brushing his arm or shoulder every chance you get. at first, jungkook attempts to resist. 

his replies are short and his eyes anywhere but on you… but as the hours slip by, you feel him softening, his walls starting to crack just enough for you to sneak through.

then comes the game of mafia.

the group gathers around the coffee table, cards dealt, and jungkook ends up as the supposed villain. the accusations start flying almost immediately.

“you’re way too quiet, man,” taehyung declares, pointing at jungkook with a dramatic flourish. “you’ve got ‘mafia’ written all over you.”

jin chimes in, grinning. “yeah, it’s always the quiet ones. plus, look at him—he’s sweating.”

“i’m not sweating,” jungkook snaps, sitting up straighter, his jaw tightening. “i’m wearing a fucking hoodie and you guys turned up the heat. you're all so fucking bad at this game, you've all been sabotaging me physically!”

the others laugh, piling on more ridiculous accusations. even you can’t help but join in, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

“sorry, jungkook,” you say, shrugging with mock innocence. “you do look kind of guilty.”

his eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, something raw flickers there—hurt, maybe, or frustration. his lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead, he pushes back his chair and stands abruptly.

“what the fuck do you know, ___?”

old habits die hard.

“chill,” yoongi warns. “it’s just a game.”

“whatever,” jungkook says, his voice clipped. “this game’s stupid anyway.”

without another word, he turns and storms off, leaving the room in stunned silence. the sound of his bedroom door slamming echoes.

the group exchanges awkward glances before taehyung leans toward you with a teasing smirk. 

“our boyfriend is in a mood… what should we do?”

jin chuckles. “___, you should probably go check on him before he sulks himself into oblivion.”

rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the couch. 

“he’s so dramatic,” you chime, but there’s a softness to your voice as you head up the stairs and down the hall towards his room. 

a part of you hesitates… partly because of the event that occurred the last time you were here. but, you shrug it off. as you stand before his door, you raise your fist to knock but abruptly, he swings his door open.

“what do you want?”

“how’d you know—”

“you’ve got heavy ass fucking feet.”

you hiss at him. “yah, sore loser energy does not look good on you.”

opening the door wider, you step inside. he huffs and sits on the edge of his bed. with his hood still up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he glares at you with a mix of irritation and something else—something softer.

“did they send you up here to check up on me? what did they bribe you with this time?”

“nothing actually,” you answer him truthfully. “i’ve got my own motivations.”

jungkook can’t help but crack half a smile. 

“like what?”

you lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with a small, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

before he lets himself enjoy this moment, his jaw tightens, and he looks away. his gaze fixes on the floor. 

“why’d you turn on me?” he huffs, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

you push off the doorframe, stepping closer.

“it’s just a game, jungkook,” you say gently, your voice deliberately soft. “you’re not actually mad, are you?”

his shoulders tense, a flicker of something crossing his face—annoyance, maybe, but there’s something deeper underneath. his hands clench into fists on his thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as though he’s trying to ground himself.

“it’s not the game,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and raw like it was dragged out of him against his will.

you blink, caught off guard by the weight of his tone. “then what is it?”

his jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. his fingers twitch at his sides, and then he’s dragging a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood. his hair falls messily over his forehead, but he doesn’t fix it. when his eyes finally meet yours, it’s like being hit with a tidal wave—anger, frustration, and something else that makes your breath catch.

“you.”

your heart stutters in your chest, but you keep your composure, tilting your head slightly. “me?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words.

“you play too much.”

his voice is rough but lacking its usual sharpness.

“you get in my head… and then you just—” he cuts himself off, the frustration rolling off him in waves. his leg bounces slightly, and his hands grip his thighs again, knuckles pale from the tension.

“you don’t even care,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost like he doesn’t want to admit it. “what the fuck were you doing to me all week? experimenting or some shit? fuck, isn’t your major psychology or something? you’re basically being trained to be a psycho.”

the jab stings, but you ignore it. instead, your chest tightens at his words, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to bury beneath his irritation. you take a step closer, your knees almost brushing his.

“i do care,” you say softly, reaching out, your fingers brushing against his knuckles.

his gaze drops to where your fingers touch his, and for a moment, he’s completely still, like he doesn’t know what to do. then, slowly, his hand turns over, palm-up, brushing against yours with a hesitance that makes your chest ache.

“then can you stop messing with me?”

there’s something about his tone—about the way he says this. his words are one thing, but the ache of his deliverance is completely something else.

“i wasn’t messing with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked on his.

his lips part slightly, and his breathing is uneven as his eyes search your face, like he’s looking for something—an answer, a hint, anything.

“then what are you doing?”

you lean in, closing the distance just enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. your smile is soft, almost teasing, but there’s a weight behind it.

“making you want me.”

jungkook is good. 

you have no idea how or why, but your underwear and skirt are on the other side of his bedroom floor. 

your legs are spread wide for him, as he licks his fingers and begins to gently drag it inside your folds. he separates them before lowering himself in. he looks at you, not breaking any eye contact as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

you clench your fist. 

after a few licks and sucks, he lifts his head away. he brings his fingers to your mouth, cueing you to suck on them. 

you do. 

as he places his thick fingers inside, you part your mouth and suck on them. bobbing your head and twisting your tongue around his digits as you suck—jungkook winces at the way you do so. 

“fuck,” he utters. 

as he takes his fingers out, he begins to massage your folds. his pressure is firm yet pleasurable. his fingers trace around your entrance and play with your clit. you feel your toes curling as he breathes near your pussy. 

it pulsates. 

he can’t help it. the view is just too fucking perfect. jungkook massages your folds, spreading them a part before he spits on it. he takes his thumb and rubs in his saliva. massaging it in, slowly and surely—mixing it with your wetness. 

“good kitty,” jungkook praises. “your pretty pussy is swelling up, ___. what’s going on? excited? horny? happy? you’re so wet, baby. so fucking—do you hear it?”

jungkook shoves his fingers inside you, curling and pumping them in and out. you gasp at the sharpness but feel completely immersed in his act. 

.. and yes.

you do hear it.

you hear how wet your fucking pussy is.

“o-oh my god! j-jungkook—”

“yeah, baby?”

your stomach twists. 

“d-don’t—stop. stop calling me—”

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, shifting his body to tower over you. he caresses your face, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip. then, he kisses your cheek and trails his kisses down to your neck. you moan at his softness. 

he’s so close to you. it’s only now that you realize how addictive he is.. from the way he smells to the way his touches make you feel…

he’s perfect.

in this moment, he is everything to you.

“sorry,” he repeats against your skin. “i’m sorry, kitty.”

you gulp. 

“do you forgive me?” he pouts, resting his forehead against yours. “hmm? forgive me, please.”

“i forgive you,” you breathe. “c-can you—”

just as you reach for him, he shakes his head. 

“can’t kiss you,” jungkook sighs. “won’t know how to get rid of you after.”

you smile. 

“you wanna get rid of me after this?”

jungkook stays quiet. 

you shift. 

“no.”

just as jungkook leans in, your lips inches a part—

the door suddenly creaks open.

a girl—someone you didn’t recognize—steps halfway in, her hand still on the doorknob, her brows lifting in surprise when she sees the two of you.

her eyes darts between your flushed face and jungkook.

“oh, shit! uh—sorry,” she says quickly, taking a step back but still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “i didn’t know you had a tutoring session before mine... i’ll, um, come back later, then? sorry to interrupt.”

before you can even process her words, she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her. the sound left a hollow sort of silence in its wake like the air had been sucked out of the room.

you blink at the now-closed door, the words tutoring session before mine looping in your head like a broken record. your chest tightens, heat crawls up your neck as you turn back to jungkook. 

his expression is already shifting, panic bleeding into his features.

you shift your body entirely, pushing him off you.

“wait,” he starts, “shit, ___. it’s not like that—”

“okay,” you say flatly. 

you get up from his bed and grab your underwear and skirt. yanking them on, your movements frustrate jungkook. 

he doesn’t know what to do. 

in any and every angle—he’s in the wrong.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he tries again, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, almost pleading. “it wasn’t—i didn’t know she’d just barge in like that. i thought the door was locked—”

you shove past him, your shoulder brushing his as you make your way toward the door. you could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, a sick mix of anger and humiliation clawing at your throat.

“wait—” his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, but you ripped it free, spinning around to glare at him.

“don’t.”

“___, please—”

“it’s not about whether or not the door was locked—” you choke, “it’s… fuck. tutoring session, really? is that what i am right now? is that what she is—”

“no,” jungkook answers sternly. “holy fuck, please. let’s talk about this—”his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to let you go, to just let you leave. but then he took a step forward, his voice sharp and cutting—

“___, what did you want from me?”

you freeze, your hand still on the doorknob, your back to him. the words hit you like a slap, knocking the wind out of you.

jungkook takes a chance. 

he steps closer to you. 

“... because, honestly, i don’t think you even know.”

you stay quiet. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“well, fuck. if you don’t know, then it’s not my fault,” he says, his tone hard now, defensive. “you can't want things from me and then not know how to handle shit, ___. you don’t get to make me another one of your fucking situationships. you wanted me to want you and this—holy shit. this isn't my fault. it’s yours—”

suddenly, your palm connects with his cheek before you even realize it. the sound of the slap reverberates in the room. his head jerked to the side, and for a moment, he just stands there, stunned.

your hand stung, your chest heaving as you stared at him, your vision blurring at the edges.

“i hate you.”

“___, i’m sorry—”

but it’s too late. 

you don’t even bother looking back as you storm out of jungkook’s room, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and humiliation. the tears are already burning at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, determined not to let them fall. your feet carry you down the hall, towards the stairs, your vision blurry with rage.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice echoes behind you, followed by the thud of his footsteps as he chases after you. he hustles, dressing himself as he goes after you.

“fuck off!” you snap, your voice trembling but firm.

he doesn’t listen. 

of course, he doesn’t. 

“holy shit—please! ___, stop. just fucking hear me out—” he pleads, his tone exasperated, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“stop?” you spin around halfway down the stairs, glaring up at him. “stop what, jungkook? stop assuming? stop feeling humiliated? stop—”

your voice cracks, and you hate how raw it sounds.

“whatever.”

jungkook freezes on the step above you, his lips parted as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out.

you don’t wait for him to gather his words. 

you turn back and keep walking, practically jogging down the last few steps and into the living room where everyone else is. their laughter dies down the second they see you—flustered, teary-eyed, and furious—followed immediately by jungkook chasing after you.

“uh, what’s happening?” namjoon asks, his eyebrows raised as he glances between you and jungkook.

“are you two fighting?” jin’s tone is a mix of concern and curiosity, his head tilting as he watches the scene unfold.

"fuck," jungkook groans. "no shit, hyung."

“guys, let’s all chill,” taehyung interjects, raising his hands like a referee. “we’re all friends here—”

“he’s no friend.” you cut him off, your voice sharp and laced with emotion. you’re trembling now, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over. 

the room goes silent.

even taehyung, who was halfway through a casual shrug, stops mid-gesture. everyone’s eyes dart to jungkook, whose expression shifts from startled to pained in a split second.

“what am i to you, then?” jungkook asks, his voice low but audible enough in the tense quiet. he takes a step toward you, his hand reaching out before falling limply to his side. 

you don’t answer. 

you just shake your head, the tears finally breaking free as you turn on your heel and head for the door. the air feels suffocating, and you need to get out of there before your emotions betray you any further.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice cracks, and for a moment, it sounds like he’s desperate. he jogs after you again, his hand catching your wrist just as you’re about to reach the front door.

“why the fuck are you so pissed about this?” jungkook cries. “holy shit, you’re infuriating. you know that?”

“are you done?” you ask him coldly. 

a beat. 

“do you want me to be?”

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off. 

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian. 

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks. 

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head. 

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused. 

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned. 

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking. 

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.” 

“Not now, Jason.” 

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…” 

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.” 

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out. 

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him. 

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!” 

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.” 

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now. 

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment. 

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.” 

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand. 

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead. 

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead. 

That he had failed yet another child. 

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite? 

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?” 

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?” 

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.” 

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young. 

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.” 

“Did you never question what happened to him?” 

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.” 

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway. 

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.” 

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met. 

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home. 

[awionetka]

Rafayel loves it when you do things that are supposed to feel "emasculating" to him.

One time you opened the doors for him while entering an art gallery and he felt something shift. There was this stack of boxes wobbling in his arms, successfully preventing Rafayel from seeing anything except for a narrow space to his right. It came so naturally to you, one moment you were complaining about the last wanderer mission and the next, still while talking, you let him pass by, not even paying much attention to what you were up to.

Ever since then, he began to notice all those little things you did, did for him, absentmindedly and without expecting even a mere "thank you". Aside from opening doors, both to buildings and cars, you weren’t opposed to putting on his jacket for him (sometimes forcefully, because Rafayel often refused to wear it, claiming it wasn’t even that cold), helping him with his jewelry while getting ready for the day or letting him cling onto your side when you read, one arm thrown over his shoulders in a comforting, grounding gesture. You paint each other’s nails, swap clothing when you two feel like it, sometimes you even lift him up bridal style, just to show that you can (and, what Rafayel isn’t aware of, to see him blush so furiously he starts radiating literal heat).

And his absolute, absolute favourite – you let your hand hover near his lower back whenever the two of you pass through a crowd (oh, how he wishes you would just close that annoying gap already… not like he wouldn’t tease you mercilessly for that, gasping in fake bewilderment at your outward display of affection. How scandalous!).

Rafayel likes how with you it’s never one-sided, whichever form of adoration either of you express at the moment. One night you come home and sit in his lap while he’s working on his recent piece, or ask timidly to have your hair washed for you and the other he curls up at your side as you scrub at his scalp with your fingernails so pleasantly he can almost feel himself purr.

As much as Rafayel loves performing, dutifully curating his exquisite, intimidating shining star image, he cannot bear to perform in front of you. Words fail to express how utterly lucky he feels to be able to keep his fluidity, his wide range of traits and emotions, because his beloved would never judge him for any of it (if anything, you’re going to match his energy with just as much fervour and eagerness).

And sometimes, after a long day of putting up with other people’s toxic masculinity out in the open, all he needs is to lay in your lap and kiss your wrists as you comb through his hair with your fingers, knowing full well that if the world were to end right this second, he would die the happiest man on planet Earth.

Rafayel looooves his hunter wife!

[astrologydray]

Ruler of the 2nd through the houses

when you track the ruler of the 2nd house through the houses, you’re looking at how you make money, where your values lie, what you prioritize, and what brings you a sense of security and self-worth.

1st House 🏡:

I am the resource.

Your body, presence, or identity is a source of value. You might attract wealth through personal branding, entrepreneurship, or just being YOU. Confidence = currency. You naturally radiate value, but must learn to own it.

2nd House 🏡:

Born to build.

This is a powerful placement for money, stability, and long-term growth. You naturally know how to build wealth and manage your resources. You’re probably very grounded and value quality over quantity. Shadow side hoarding, fear of change, or stubbornness.

3rd House 🏡:

Money through the mind.

Your voice, ideas, or communication skills are your goldmine. You might make money through writing, teaching, media, or even tech. You value curiosity, mental stimulation, and versatility. Prone to having scattered energy or difficulty monetizing ideas. Your Strength = quick thinking, adaptability, networking = resource magnet.

4th House 🏡:

Home is the foundation of wealth.

You could inherit money, make money through property, or work from home. Emotional security and family support directly affect your money flow. Your values are deeply rooted in your upbringing.

5th House 🏡:

Creative currency.

You attract money through self-expression, creativity, pleasure, or even romance. Think artists, performers, designers — or people who monetize their passions. You value joy, fun, and being seen. Shadow side here = risky money behavior; tying worth to external validation.

6th House 🏡:

Work = worth.

You build wealth slowly and steadily through dedicated effort, skill development, and service. You might work in healing, wellness, administration, or service industries. You value discipline and reliability. Overworking or tying self-worth to productivity may be a problem for you. Relax and give urself grace.

7th House 🏡:

Money through others.

Your values and income may come through partnerships, collaborations, or clients. Business and romantic relationships affect your money deeply. You value harmony, balance, and reciprocity. Be careful of falling into financial dependency or people-pleasing around money.

8th House 🏡:

The wealth alchemist.

You’re drawn to shared resources, investments, and transformative wealth. You might make money through occult work, finance, psychology, or sex-related fields. Power, trust, and depth play a big role in your money story.

9th House 🏡:

Expand to receive.

You attract abundance through travel, teaching, spirituality, law, or publishing. You value freedom, knowledge, and growth. Belief systems around wealth are HUGE here — mindset is everything.

10th House 🏡:

Public success = personal wealth.

You may gain money and security through career, status, or reputation. You value ambition, recognition, and doing something that matters. This placement often pushes you toward visible leadership or high positions.

11th House 🏡:

Money through the collective.

You earn through networks, innovation, tech, or social causes. Think online businesses, group work, or digital platforms. You value progress, originality, and future-oriented thinking. Be careful of being overreliance on external validation or digital platforms. Your unique ideas, group alignment, big-picture wealth building is where it’s at.

12th House 🏡:

Mystical money flow.

This is the most non-linear placement. You may make money through spiritual work, healing, art, or behind-the-scenes roles. Money may come and go mysteriously, and your values are more ethereal than material.

[plutosunshine]

Signs You Are Unforgettable ✨

Leo Placements (Sun, Moon, or Rising) Leo energy is ruled by the Sun itself—so people with strong Leo placements naturally radiate. They're often confident, expressive, and full of life. But what makes them unforgettable isn't just their charisma. It's their consistency of presence.Whether you saw them once or spent years with them, their energy feels like sunshine on your skin: warm, golden, and hard to replicate. Leo Risings especially are memorable for their style, hair, voice, or a strong, regal physical presence. Leo Moons, on the other hand, leave an impression because they give love dramatically and loyally. People remember how seen and valued they made them feel 🌞.

Scorpio Placements (especially Moon, Rising, or Venus) Scorpio is unforgettable because it penetrates. This energy doesn’t skate on the surface—it goes deep. Scorpio Risings walk into a room and people feel something shift. There’s often an air of secrecy, power, or raw emotional intensity that you can’t look away from. Scorpio Moons can affect people at a soul level—they don’t just feel, they absorb emotion, and if you’ve been loved (or even hated) by a Scorpio Moon, you won’t forget it. Scorpio Venus? That’s someone whose love is all-consuming. People carry the memory of their passion for years. It’s not always about drama—it’s about emotional imprint. You don't forget a Scorpio, even if you try 🦂.

Aquarius Placements (especially Rising, Sun, or Mercury) Aquarius doesn’t follow trends—they are the trend. People with Aquarius Rising or Sun often leave a mark because of how uniquely they express themselves. They might have unconventional style, ideas, or behavior that seems weird until it becomes cool years later. But what’s unforgettable about them is that they usually show up as themselves, regardless of judgment. Aquarius Mercury? That’s someone whose ideas blow your mind and make you question everything you thought you knew. They live on in people’s memories as “the one who changed my perspective.” ⚡

Pisces Placements (especially Moon, Rising, or Neptune on the Ascendant) There’s something dreamlike about strong Pisces energy. These people tend to blur the line between reality and fantasy in others’ eyes. Their presence is soft, soulful, and often healing—almost like a balm. A Pisces Moon will understand your emotions without you saying a word. A Pisces Rising might be remembered for their eyes, their aura, or how they made you feel safe or inspired. They’re often artistic, musical, or emotionally intuitive—and people often fall in love with them without knowing why. They become symbols of lost innocence, deep love, or creative muse energy. They haunt dreams, inspire art, or remain an unresolved mystery ✨.

Venus in Libra or Taurus Venus is the planet of love and beauty, and in its home signs, it becomes magnetic. Venus in Libra people are unforgettable because they know how to connect with others gracefully. Their charm is refined, thoughtful, and emotionally intelligent. Venus in Taurus carries a more sensual, earthy magnetism. They're unforgettable for how they feel physically—warm hugs, beautiful voices, soft touch, great taste. They bring beauty into the everyday in a way people long for again after they’re gone. Venus in either sign can make people feel seen, desirable, and adored—and that feeling lingers.

Pluto or Neptune on the Ascendant or Midheaven If you’ve got Pluto conjunct your Ascendant, people sense your power immediately. It’s not always obvious or loud, but it’s felt. You trigger something in others, whether that’s desire, fear, admiration, or transformation. It’s hard to be “neutral” around Pluto-Ascendant people—they become key players in other people’s life stories. Neptune on the Ascendant or Midheaven is a bit more ghostly but just as memorable. You might be idealized, projected on, or even misunderstood, but people remember the feeling you gave them. It’s a lingering sense of awe, melancholy, or love that defies logic.

North Node in the 1st House or conjunct the Ascendant These people often feel like they’re meant to be seen. There’s something about them that makes others think, “They’re going somewhere.” They may not even realize it, but people remember their potential, their presence, or how they seemed destined for something bigger.

What’s important to remember is that being unforgettable doesn’t always come from beauty or popularity—it comes from energy. The kind of presence that alters someone’s state of mind, leaves them curious, or emotionally moved. Some people leave behind information; unforgettable people leave behind impression.

[harmoonix]

Random Astrology observations 🖤

🖤 Pluto - Mars aspects in a chart can indicate attracting controlling people in your life, people who can abuse you for power/gaining something from you

🖤 Having Neptune in the 12th house or 1st house = having issues with realizing who you are, personality/identity disorder, feeling empty from the world

🖤 If a fire Mars wants you to chase them in a love relationship, trust me, they love you deep for that (lol)

🖤 Neptune - Sun aspects in a chart can make the native feel 'invisible' at times, feeling like people are ignoring you or that people forget about you

🖤 North Node in the 10th house can build their way up to success. Is a wealthy placement and can indicate following the footsteps of fame

🖤 North Node in Leo or Aries are big indicators of focusing on yourself. Loving yourself. And the most important to find your power

🖤 North Node in Sagittarius or Aquarius tells you to be yourself. To be everything you want to be. To be special in your own way.

🖤 Scorpio Venus can often share their affection while being physical, can also be their love language, and for Scorpio, which is related to the 8th house of intimacy, it can be important

🖤 Ceres asteroid in water signs can share the same things. Intimacy is so important, but for these, it can also be a healing key

🖤 Ceres aspecting Sun have a warm/sunny personality, you fall for their kind nature, generous natives

🖤 Natives born on a full moon tend to have really big and challenging lives. With all of these, you are meant to do something meaningful

🖤 Jupiter in the 1st, 5th, or 9th houses can make the native a spiritual guru. They can embrace their spiritual skills more early in life. Wise native and often embodying the 'old soul' archetype

🖤 In a love relationship, it is said that if both natives share the same moon phase, they can be twin flames (which is different from soulmates).

🖤 Jupiter in good aspects with Venus is a hidden blessing. Harmony follows you everywhere like a lullaby, and you tend to be more open to finding yourself than finding a lover

🖤 Your boundaries are often found within your 6th house, and of course, the sign/planets can talk about how you put these in practice

🖤 North Node in the 5th house is all about finding your creativity. It is a magical placement of self-expression. Art flows through your veins

🖤 Gemini, Aquarius, and Libra on the 5th or 7th house can indicate communication is important for you while being in a relationship. Social couple

🖤 Sagittarius over the 5th and 7th house, indicates you want someone open-minded in your relationships, ride or die feeling, and I love these too much

🖤 If you have these Virgo Placements (Chiron ,Moon, Saturn), everyone expects you to make no mistakes and to be a perfectionist at everything

🖤 Libra and Gemini Placements, especially in big 3, embody the artisan archetype doing your own things, crafts, art, work of ehtic, etc

🖤 Libra Men tend to have the look of a fuckboy on their face even if not all of them are like that. But you can feel the energy

🖤 I don't generalize, but ppl who look after hookups or one night stands don't have their 5th or 8th house evolved

🖤 Chiron in Cancer or Moon in the 1st house can make the native appear more vulnerable. This is due to these placements turning more soft over the 1st house of identity

🖤 Embrace more of your spiritual side if you have lots of Jupiter or Sagittarius in your chart. Is a soul journey

🖤 Chiron in the 4th house is a big indicator of ending something bad within your bloodline. It can appear such as: toxicity, hate, rejection, and many more, and also Chiron at 4° 16° 28° degrees

🖤 Jupiter aspecting Sun (even in harsh aspects) appears as kind people. They radiate a calm energy and positiveness

🖤 Pluto Saturn and Lilith in the 11th house can end up to be such 'betrayed placement. Of course everyone can be betrayed but there are also some placements who can indicate it

🖤 Your sidereal Moon sign can show how good you are at controlling your emotions/feelings when you're alone and how you process them

🖤 Pluto in the 1st house can indicate being abused/manipulated or used from a young age. From this coming the all the power from Pluto. Because in the 1st house is indeed very powerful

🖤 Have a good everyone! Stay safe and take care!

[mommyameliestorycorner]

The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the tiled bathroom walls, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. The air smelled of lavender and vanilla, mixing with the faint, powdery scent that always seemed to linger around Little. Mommy reclined in the tub, the water embracing her as she exhaled a slow, contented sigh. After a long, busy week, this was her moment to unwind.

But tonight was special. Tonight, she had company.

Just a few feet away, sprawled out on his tummy with crayons scattered around him, Little hummed to himself. He had been so proud when Mommy had told him he’d earned this treat—staying up late, coloring beside her while she took her bath. His little feet wiggled behind him, clad in the soft, footed pajamas she had picked out, the ones covered in tiny duckies. The familiar bulge of his thick nighttime diaper peeked out as he squirmed, a telltale sign that he had soaked it but hadn’t yet noticed, too lost in his colorful world.

Mommy watched him, her heart swelling. His pacifier bobbed slightly as he babbled around it, mumbling half-formed thoughts about his day at daycare.

“An’ then, an’ then, Miss Katie say I share really good! I let Sammy have my blocks even when I was still usin’ dem!” He turned his head to look at her, his wide, proud eyes meeting hers. His paci slipped slightly, revealing a delighted, slightly drooly smile.

Mommy smiled back, warmth spreading through her chest. “That was very kind of you, sweetheart. I bet Sammy was really happy.”

Little nodded so hard his curls bounced. “Mhm! Miss Katie said I’m the bestest sharer today!” He went back to his coloring, his brows furrowing in concentration as he pressed a blue crayon hard against the paper.

Mommy took a sip of her wine, watching him, savoring the simple joy radiating off him. He was so innocent, so pure, completely immersed in his little world. His diaper crinkled as he shifted, making the slightest squish, and she knew he’d wet it again. She could have pointed it out, but she didn’t. Not yet. He was so engrossed in his art, his little legs kicking lazily behind him, his tiny fists wrapped around the chunky crayons. There was no rush.

“Whatcha drawing, baby?” she asked, her voice thick with affection.

He lifted his paper, beaming. “It’s us! You in da tub, an’ me colorin’ an’… an’ Teddy’s here too!” He jabbed a chubby finger at the brown blob that was undoubtedly his favorite plush bear.

Mommy chuckled. “It’s beautiful, my love. Can I keep it when you’re done?”

His eyes widened, as if the honor of having his artwork kept forever was too much to handle. He nodded vigorously. “Yuh-huh! You can put it on da fridge!”

She reached out, her wet fingers brushing over his soft hair, ruffling it gently. He nuzzled into her touch instinctively, his cheeks flushing pink.

For a while, there was only quiet. The gentle slosh of water as Mommy adjusted herself, the occasional scrape of a crayon on paper, and the muffled suckling sounds of his paci. Every so often, he’d glance up at her, just to make sure she was still there, still watching over him. Every time, she met his gaze with the same soft smile, reassuring him without words.

After a few minutes, Little squirmed again, this time more obviously. The way his bottom pressed down made the squishy wetness of his diaper all the more noticeable, and he finally registered it. He let out a small, surprised gasp and sat up, reaching down to poke at the front of his sleeper. His big, round eyes flicked up to Mommy, searching her face.

She arched a knowing brow. “Feeling squishy, baby?”

A tiny whimper bubbled past his pacifier, his cheeks turning redder. He nodded. “Uh-huh…”

Mommy tilted her head, taking another sip of her wine as she let him stew in his own shyness for just a moment. He was always like this—realizing he’d wet himself, then feeling bashful about it. But she loved how he never complained, never whined for a change. He accepted it, just like a good boy should.

“Don’t worry, lovebug,” she murmured. “We’ll get you all fresh before bed.”

Little wiggled his toes, clearly comforted by her calmness. He shifted again, settling back onto his knees, the padding beneath him squishing audibly. “M’okay,” he mumbled, turning back to his coloring.

Mommy let out a soft, fond sigh. How could one person be so precious?

Minutes passed, and the bathroom remained their little sanctuary. The flickering candlelight danced across the bubbles in her tub, the warmth of the water soothing her tired muscles. But more than anything, it was the presence of her Little that made this night feel so perfect.

She watched as he stretched his arms high above his head, letting out a tiny yawn. His paci wobbled in his mouth, and his chubby fingers rubbed at his sleepy eyes. The long day, the excitement, the warmth of the bathroom—all of it was beginning to weigh on him.

Mommy smiled, setting her empty wine glass on the bath tray. “Getting sleepy, sweetheart?”

Little blinked slowly, his pacifier bobbing as he nodded. “Mhm…” he whispered. “But… but I don’ wanna go yet. I like bein’ wif you.”

Her heart squeezed, and she reached out again, letting her fingers brush over his soft cheek. “I like being with you too, my love,” she murmured. “But you’ve had such a big day, and it’s almost bedtime.”

Little’s lip wobbled, just slightly, before he buried his face into his teddy bear. Mommy knew that look—he wanted to be a good boy, wanted to listen, but he also wanted just a little more time with her.

“Tell you what,” she said softly, running her fingers through his curls, “why don’t we go get you changed into a fresh diapee, and then I’ll tuck you in nice and cozy? You can even have an extra bedtime story.”

His sleepy eyes brightened. “Two stories?”

She nodded. “Two whole stories.”

That was all it took. Little pushed himself up on wobbly legs, stretching his arms toward her, a silent request.

Mommy chuckled. “Baby, I’m still in the bath.”

He pouted behind his paci, then let his arms drop. “Oh… I wait den.”

Her heart swelled. So patient. So sweet.

She finished up quickly, draining the tub and wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. Little stood by the door, rubbing his eyes with a balled-up fist, shifting his weight from foot to foot as his damp diaper sagged just a little lower.

She scooped him up without hesitation, cradling him against her. He let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling against her neck, his paci moving in slow, rhythmic sucks.

“Such a good boy,” she whispered, kissing his forehead as she carried him to the nursery.

And as she laid him down, fresh and clean in his softest pajamas, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

[itoshiierae]

rin itoshi x reader ( café barista AU ☕️ ༘⋆ )

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hi so i’ve been thinking about barista!rin itoshi all day long and i just HAD to do this. the idea of him being all grumpy and silent behind the counter but secretly losing his mind every time you walk in??? the silent little acts of affection?? the way he would never actually say anything at first but it's just so obvious if you pay attention??? ughh i just couldn't resist okay. anywayyy, please enjoy this very specific soft headcanons of rin ♡

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who deadass looks like he hates everyone when he's behind the counter — perfect poker face, radiates “don’t-talk-to-me-unless-necessary” energy, but would literally turn into an awkward mess every time you walk in & smile at him.

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who somehow always ends up at the register when you arrive, even if it’s not his shift just so he can take your order personally.

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who glares at his coworkers if they ever flirt with you too much — absolutely vicious silent death glares over the espresso machine.

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who accidentally makes your drink prettier than everyone else's; little foam art hearts he insists are just "part of the set menu design."

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who always remembers your "usual" — but if you ever try something new, he quietly copies your new order after his shift just to understand what you like.

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who lowkey practices how he’s going to ask you out — probably while wiping down the counters or steaming milk but chickens out every single time because you smile too brightly and he forgets how words work.

໒꒱ barista!rin itoshi who finally — finally — manages to mumble, "Next coffee’s on me. And, uh... maybe after my shift ends tomorrow... let’s go on a date?" while studiously refusing to meet your eyes.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

[theleotarot]

Your Next Relationship ♡

Pick the image(s) that you feel drawn to or resonate most with. Pile 1,2, and 3. ♡

Ko-Fi tipping and extended readings

Pile 1

(The Sun, The Moon, The Hanged Man, 6 of Swords, Beaver, Mouse, The Underworld, Self-Indulgence, & Cut Down)

Hi Pile 1, welcome to your reading. ♡ It looks like your next relationship with your partner is deeply about facing your fears together. I strongly believe that one or both of you have went through a dark period in your life, and when you are with this person, you are able to confide in them, and they can with you as well. I see the both of you doing a lot of inner healing with each other. I do think you, Pile 1, have had so much negativity in your lives or past trauma that it makes you super hypervigilant and it can shift into your relationship, possibly overthinking and sabotaging the relationship in some ways. Although this is a downside, I do see your person being extremely patient with you, not just when you are self-doubting at times, but patient in general. They are the type of person who will wait for you when things get hard like heated arguments, and to the easy things like waiting for you to get your makeup or hair done for an event lol. I see that their patience also is shown through their acts of love. I think your person loves to build things with and for you, Pile 1. I sense that they love making diy gifts for you, or another term- they enjoy crafting new art for your liking. I think your person loves to build the relationship much stronger with you. For some reason, I am getting a construction worker, but take it as it resonates only. If not a construction worker, I do think your person is very knowledgeable about building things, or they just like to craft things on their own time. I also get that your person makes lots of sacrifices in your relationship for you. They would go through riptides for this relationship and for you. I’m hearing that they would put you on a pedestal. In a sense, I’m kind of hearing that they may let you in after a period of rethinking, in other words, they sacrifice their fears of love for you because that’s just how much they love you. As for the relationship on your side, I do believe that you are your person’s “life saver.” You bring them to calmer waters of life, and I just get a sense that you bring them so much peace. I think you are their safe space and they do feel like you’re the protector. I also see that you may be very good at advice, this is one thing that they will love about you as well. You may like to be very organized within your relationship, or just in general. Right now, I’m seeing a vision where you take your person’s hand and say “Cmon let’s do this!” and happily run with them. I get the feeling that when you are excited in your relationship, you’re very quick, witty, and playful. They think it’s cute haha. I do think that when problems arise, someone here does the silent treatment, or just needs time to rethink things, it could be you or your partner. This is one thing that I see that may affect the relationship, however, it does get fixed and both of you are able to overcome it with sacrificing for one another. I really do think that you and your partner let each other in, even during the scariest times pertaining to emotional vulnerability, maybe more so at the beginning of the relationship. One thing I am also getting, you both may like to do certain activities together that are considered frightening or challenging. Perhaps, things like skydiving, skinny-dipping, or maybe you just like to watch horror movies together lol. Pile 1, your next relationship radiates a lot of positivity and light. I am sure that one or both of you have not had such a great past, but with your next partner, they will be your sun and you will be theirs, making life more hopeful for the both of you.

Ko-Fi Extended Reading: Sneak peek into an intimate moment with your next partner

If you enjoyed this reading, please consider donating to my tip jar on Ko-Fi. Any donation is greatly appreciated. 💖

Pile 2

(4 of Cups, The Moon, Temperance, The Magician, Moth, Peacock, The Sustainer, Blowing Kiss, & Phoenix)

Hi Pile 2, welcome to your reading. ♡ For your next relationship, I see that both of you will be very nurturing to each other. I see a lot of providing for one another in terms of money, food, love care, affection, and reciprocity in general. I see that the both of you will always keep this relationship alive because the both of you are very much invested with each other. I think that the activities that the both of you do will be very interactive with each other. For instance, I see that the both of you may love to cook dinner together, draw art together, go shopping together, or take lots of pictures together. You may even like to play instruments together 😢 Maybe sing together too. I strongly feel that both of you bond over similar interests, this is so sweet. I feel like quality time is the love language that both of you do together the most. I'm hearing that you are their rock, and you are their rock. I get a sense that both of you do trust each other and as said before, I think that both of you provide a lot for each other more than any other partners that you may have had in the past did. It’s like, at the end of a day, no matter if it was bad or good, both of you will always be there for one another. “You can count on me like 1,2,3 I’ll be there…” by Bruno Mars is what I’m channeling. I think that when the both of you first come together, you or they have entered a new phase in your life, perhaps from a dark period, and when the both of you unite, you both will become disinterested in anything else that does not serve you anymore. I’m hearing “The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color” by Taylor Swift. This is kind of how you both feel in the relationship, everything else is white noise because you both found happiness in each other. I will mention that even though you both may block out other people or things when you are together, this relationship is still very healthy. It feels healthy and radiates lots of unconditional love. I also want to mention that I am getting the feeling that maybe this next person that you will be in a relationship with, first, you both will come together, but then have a phase of disconnect, and as time passes, you both rekindle things with each other. Take that as it resonates only. After this phase of disconnect, that is when this unconditional love will grow.

Like pile one, I see that your person will be very patient with you as well. I think they love taking care of you, nurturing you, and showering you with all their love. I think they do a lot of this not only with providing for you or spending time with you, but also in terms of acts of service. If you like your cup of coffee a certain way at Starbucks, they will run to the store and get that exact order for you no matter what time of day or even if they are busy. I can see that they are a breakfast in bed type of person, surprising you when you open your eyes with a homemade breakfast and maybe some flowers. They are also a shoulder for you to cry on whenever you need to release emotions. I think that this person will always wait for you under any circumstance, especially if there are any arguments or separation that has happened will always have that love and care for you so they will be willing to wait to patch things up with you. I'm hearing that they're very fragile with you and they see you as someone very precious and they want to protect your heart. For you Pile 2, I am getting that you are extremely confident in your relationship with this person. Perhaps you love to really show them off to the world. Maybe when you both are out in public you love to tug on their arm and hold them firmer not only because you love physical touch but because you are so glad you are with this person and you're very fortunate enough to be with them. I think you work very hard to also reciprocate your person's love back to them and you would give anything to help them achieve their goals and dreams. Pile 2, I also want to say that I feel like you have always dreamt of having a partner like you're next partner in your relationship, you've always manifested a person like this and I feel like once you are actually in a relationship with this type of person, this is the reason why you treat them like they are such a prize. Because they are everything you dreamt of, even though everyone has flaws this person does fit into your standards extremely well. I believe you are very supportive of everything good that your person sets for themselves, kind of like you are their own personal cheerleader haha.

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Pile 3

(9 of Swords, 7 of cups, Ace of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, Mouse, Cheetah, The Mother, Back Stabbing, & Grounding)

Hi Pile 3, welcome to your reading. ♡ Like pile 2, your next relationship will be very nurturing. You and your next partner love to take care of one another, coming through to me right now, both of you love physical touch. You both love the physical acts of cuddling, hugging, kissing, and I just get the sense that both of you love to express your love through nice gestures such as certain hand placements on an area that you love. I see this next relationship being a lot in a home setting and both of you really take time to yourselves to just be in each other's company. Lots of cuddling. I see that this is the type of love that is similar to a “home life.” Not only that but I do see that you both feel very be safe with each other and you both are very reliable when it comes to this relationship. For some reason right now what I'm getting is that for some reason either you or your person loves to feed the other person. Like let's say you both are eating chocolate covered strawberries, one of you would love to feed the other person the strawberry because you just love the act of nourishing the other lol. I’m hearing baths together as well, or maybe you both love showering together. This relationship feels comfortable and safe. Now, I do see that maybe in the beginning of your relationship, there are certain choices that must be made that is causing anxiety or worry in some sort of way. The energy that I'm getting from this is that and maybe in the past you've gone through some sort of pain or loss which has made you or them super independent and protective of your own heart. Then once you find this relationship, someone here will be a bit hesitant to actually be open to be with the other person. This isn't purposely done or maliciously intended, it is just the way that people naturally protect themselves from being hurt. I do see there's someone here is very focused on either their career, school, or money and in a way it kind of stops the other person from entering this relationship at the beginning. It's kind of like a push and pull that I'm feeling because on one side, there's a part of someone here who wants to love and wants the relationship to be happy, but the other side of the person is very hurt from the past and they're afraid to be vulnerable and get hurt again. Of course eventually you both will open up with each other about the past and learn to let the other person in, but I do see that throughout your relationship, when insecurities arise you will feel the anxiety or maybe they will and it may cause stress at times. I do absolutely see the love here and there is stability in this relationship, I just see that both of you need to work together to overcome any type of doubt or fears that you may have during your relationship.

For your person in the relationship, I see that they bring a lot of spark in your life, especially if you feel like your life is very boring, dull, or saddening. I get the sense that they bring the excitement back in your life, and perhaps they inspire you to do even better with whatever goals that you have in mind. I think that your person makes you laugh a lot as well. I think they're a very helpful person in this relationship, and let's say anytime that you need help with a project, they would be there to put their ideas into the project and help you out. I get a sense that they are very resourceful and knowledgeable when it comes to certain projects or ideas, they are very creative. One thing I'm also getting right now is that you may find them extremely attractive. They just bring out a side of you that is literally like a cougar lol. For you pile 3, I get a sense that you're very successful and you've made a lot of achievements in many aspects of your life. Because you work so hard to achieve great things into your life, you've adopted to being very perseverant and hard working that this is deeply shown in your relationship. I do see that this person absolutely admires your work ethic and all your efforts and consistency that you show in this relationship. I think that maybe in the past your person's previous partners may have not giving them their all, but you do, and I see that that's one thing that they really do love about you. I think you also inspire them to do better, in terms of success with practical goals. I really do see you putting a lot of consistency and hard work throughout your relationship, whether it be pushing through obstacles, or one thing I'm getting right now is that you're the type of person to stay up all night to make something for your partner because that's how much you love them. I'm getting that you would sacrifice a lot just for your person and your person does see that in you. They value you a lot. It's a very sweet energy.

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[sugurouge]

── a gentle touch. sylus x f!reader

fluff. sfw. suggestive content. mdni. ༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚ pet names (sweetie, kitten, sweet girl, darling), teasing, sylus carries you around. synopsis: pampering sylus | 700 words

Self-care nights have always been your little sanctuary, a time to unwind and reset before the chaos of the next week takes hold. But ever since Sylus stepped into your life, these nights have transformed into something far more indulgent.

It’s not just about pampering yourself anymore—it’s about watching the ever-composed, ever-calculating man at your side slowly surrender to your touch. For someone so used to power and control, Sylus makes an art of pretending he’s unaffected.

But you see through him. You always do.

“You look real focused, sweetie,” he muses, his voice deep and lazy. “What, am I that mesmerising?”

You roll your eyes and distract yourself with putting on more layers of the mask. Your fingers delicately smooth the clay over his face.

“You don’t have to fish for compliments, Sylus. You already know you’re unfairly handsome.”

He’d smirk if it wasn’t for the slowly drying layer to tighten against his skin, but you can feel the amusement radiating from him nonetheless. A low chuckle vibrates from his chest. “Flatter me more, kitten.”

However, you pretend to ignore him, but as your fingers drift over his cheekbones, your gaze softens. Even with the mask obscuring his features, his beauty is undeniable. From his aquiline nose to the sharp line of his jaw, and the quirk of his lips as if he’s constantly thinking of something devious—it’s all too much.

Your thumb absentmindedly traces over the bridge of his nose, and he hums at your touch, his eyes seem to zero in on you. “Adoring me now, are we?”

You huff in response, and attempt your best to fight off the allegations about the affect Sylus has on you. “I just think it’s unfair how good you look even with this stuff on your face.”

His fingers curl around your wrist, stopping your movements as his thumb brushes over your pulse point. “You’re the unfair one, darling. Sitting so pretty on my lap, touching me so sweetly.” His grip tightens just enough to make your pulse flutter.

“Sylus,” you warn, but it comes out softer than intended.

“Mhm?” He tilts his head, a wolfish grin forms on his lips which causes the clay mask to crack while Sylus suddenly sits up to close the distance between your lips.

Your hands fly up automatically to cup Sylus’ cheeks in a valiant attempt to stop the mask from falling all over his bedsheets, to keep your yearning mess of a boyfriend away from you.

“Sylus!” You repeat louder, though you try to keep the giggles at bay. “I think we’re making a mess!”

At that, Sylus glances down—his neck and bare chest now dusted with flecks of half-dried clay from where you’ve touched him. You can't help but glare at him a little. “That’s your fault.”

“Oh? And what do you plan to do about it, kitten? Are you going to punish me?” His hands slide down to your waist, his touch firm to pull close and rub the mask along your neck and cheek.

Before you can react, he shifts, effortlessly lifting you into his arms and with him off the bed. Abandoning all the tubs and containers, the cucumbers and damp towels.

The squeak of yours is an embarrassing sound, though who could blame you? Your arms already wrap around his neck as he stands, carrying you with one goal in mind.

“What? Where are we going?” You demand to know, the tone of your voice telling Sylus that you are getting fed up with his antics. Though he chuckles, a tone so light-hearted and tender you have no chance to truly be mad with him.

“The bathroom,” he answers smoothly, “considering the mess that I have made...” Sylus leaves the implication hanging and rather focuses his attention on your body, how you feel against him, in his hold. His hands smooth along your ass, firmly encasing the globes to apply the slightest amount of pressure.

The moment you’re inside, he presses you against the cold tile wall, caging you in with his frame while one hand moves to rest beside your head. His smirk is lethal now, his lids hooded as he watches you swallow under his scrutiny.

“You know,” he murmurs with a voice like velvet, “we could take this whole ‘self-care’ thing a little further... since you already keep groaning my name, I might as well hear it bounce off the bathroom tiles.”

With that, his lips ghost over your jaw, teasing, taunting, nipping until you reward him with everything Sylus craves. You exhale a shaky breath while your fingers card through silver strands for leverage.

“W-we should clean up,” you manage to hold your ground, though your defenses are crumbling fast.

Sylus only hums, his hands gliding down your sides for his thumbs to press into your hips just enough to make you squirm. “Mhm, why not both all at once?”

You nod, and that’s all he needs before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss while already, and ever so eagerly, discarding your top.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[womshame]

Gilded cage

Word Count: Approximately 10,250 words

Synopsis: Y/N's life takes a dramatic turn when she captures the attention of the wealthy and powerful Dante Moretti. His initial affection manifests as lavish gifts, luxurious dates, and promises of a comfortable life, making Y/N feel cherished and desired. However, beneath Dante's charming exterior lies a possessive nature that gradually reveals itself through subtle manipulations and control over Y/N's relationships and opportunities.

Trigger Warnings: This story contains themes of possessiveness, manipulation, control, isolation, and potential threats of harm. Reader discretion is advised.

The first time Dante saw Y/N, she was laughing. It wasn't a polite chuckle or a giggle; it was a full-bodied, unrestrained sound that cascaded through the otherwise hushed atmosphere of the art gallery. He had been observing a rather uninspired sculpture, his mind more occupied with upcoming business negotiations than the supposed artistic merit before him. But that laugh – bright and infectious – snagged his attention like a rogue thread on expensive silk.

He turned, his gaze sweeping across the small crowd until it landed on her. Y/N stood with a group of friends, her head thrown back, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Sunlight, filtering through the gallery’s skylight, caught the highlights in her hair, turning it into a halo of warm color. Even from a distance, he could sense a vibrant energy radiating from her, a stark contrast to the often-stilted interactions he usually navigated within his social circles.

Dante, a man accustomed to commanding attention without effort, found himself momentarily captivated. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he wanted to be the reason for that unrestrained joy. He wanted to be the one to elicit that radiant smile.

His approach was characteristically smooth. He waited for a natural lull in her conversation, then, with an easy charm that had disarmed countless business rivals and society doyennes, he made his way towards her group. He introduced himself, his voice a low rumble that somehow managed to cut through the remaining chatter.

“Dante Moretti,” he said, extending a hand to Y/N. His grip was firm but gentle, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that might have made others uncomfortable, but Y/N simply met his gaze with a polite curiosity.

“Y/N,” she replied, her voice as pleasant as her laughter had promised.

From that moment on, Dante orchestrated a courtship that was both lavish and meticulously planned. Flowers arrived at her workplace, not just any flowers, but rare orchids and elegant lilies, their arrangements tasteful and breathtaking. Invitations to exclusive restaurants followed, where the ambiance was sophisticated, the food exquisite, and his attention was solely focused on her. He listened intently as she spoke of her passions – her work in graphic design, her love for old films, her occasional hikes in the nearby hills. He asked insightful questions, drawing her out, making her feel seen and appreciated.

His gifts were equally thoughtful and extravagant. A vintage edition of her favorite novel, a delicate gold bracelet that perfectly complemented her style, tickets to a concert by an artist she admired. Each present was carefully chosen, designed to impress not just with its monetary value but with the clear indication that he had been paying attention, that he understood her tastes.

Y/N was charmed. Dante was undeniably handsome, intelligent, and possessed a magnetic charisma. He was attentive, showering her with compliments and making her feel like the most important person in the room. The whirlwind of dates and gifts was intoxicating, a stark contrast to her more modest and predictable routine.

Her friends, while initially impressed, began to raise subtle concerns. “He’s… a lot, Y/N,” one of them, Sarah, ventured one afternoon over coffee. “All those expensive gifts so early on. It feels a bit overwhelming, doesn’t it?”

Y/N brushed it off. “He’s just generous, Sarah. And he’s genuinely interested in me. It’s nice to feel appreciated.”

But even Y/N couldn’t completely ignore the subtle shifts that began to occur. Casual invitations from other friends seemed to get lost in the mail. Opportunities she had been tentatively exploring at work suddenly seemed to dry up. When she mentioned a potential freelance project to Dante, he steered the conversation towards the security and benefits of her current job, subtly planting seeds of doubt about the instability of freelance work.

His concern, as he framed it, was always for her well-being. “My dear Y/N,” he would say, his voice laced with a tender protectiveness, “I just want you to be comfortable, secure. You deserve the best, and I want to provide that for you.”

He began to subtly insert himself into her social life. If she mentioned plans with friends, he would often suggest joining them, his presence charming but undeniably dominant. Her friends, initially welcoming, gradually started making plans when Dante wasn’t around, the easy camaraderie feeling strained under his watchful gaze.

One evening, Y/N mentioned a former colleague, David, who had reached out about a potential collaboration. Dante’s smile didn’t falter, but a coldness flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t quite decipher. The next time David called, Y/N found his number had been inexplicably blocked on her phone. When she tried to reach him through social media, his profile seemed to have vanished. She mentioned it to Dante, who simply shrugged. “Perhaps he decided to take a break from social media, cara. People do that.”

The explanations were always plausible, the coincidences easily dismissed. Yet, a knot of unease began to tighten in Y/N’s stomach. The lavish attention, the constant presence, the subtle steering of her life – it was starting to feel less like devotion and more like… control.

Dante, however, remained the picture of adoration. He continued to shower her with affection, his eyes always filled with a seemingly genuine tenderness whenever he looked at her. He spoke of their future together, of a comfortable life filled with beauty and security, a life where she would never have to worry about anything.

“You are meant to be cherished, Y/N,” he would murmur, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “And I am the one who will cherish you.”

Y/N wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe in the fairytale he was weaving around her. But the feeling of being subtly, almost imperceptibly, enclosed in his world was growing stronger with each passing day. The laughter that had first caught Dante’s attention was becoming less frequent, replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness as she navigated the intricate web of his affection. The question wasn't whether Dante loved her, but what his definition of love truly entailed. And a growing fear whispered that the answer might be far more possessive than she could ever have imagined.

As weeks turned into months, the subtle influences in Y/N’s life became more pronounced. Her once varied evenings, filled with different groups of friends and spontaneous outings, now revolved almost exclusively around Dante. He didn't forbid her from seeing others, not overtly. Instead, he would express his disappointment if she had prior engagements, his tone laced with a gentle sadness that made her feel guilty for wanting time apart.

"Oh, you're seeing Amelia tonight?" he might say, his expression just a touch too forlorn. "I was hoping we could have dinner at that new Italian place you mentioned. But of course, your friends are important." The implication hung heavy in the air: more important than me?

Y/N, with her kind and considerate nature, invariably found herself canceling or postponing her plans. Dante would then reward her with an extra dose of affection, a particularly thoughtful gift, or a weekend getaway to a luxurious destination. These grand gestures served as both a recompense and a subtle reinforcement of the idea that time spent with him was far more rewarding than time spent with anyone else.

Her professional life also began to feel strangely constrained. A promising opportunity to join a collaborative design studio, something she had been genuinely excited about, mysteriously fell through. The studio owner, a former acquaintance, became surprisingly unresponsive to her emails and calls. When Y/N mentioned her frustration to Dante, he listened patiently, offering sympathetic words and suggesting that perhaps the environment wouldn't have been a good fit for her anyway. He then proposed that she could assist him with some of the branding for his company, offering a generous compensation that, while tempting, felt oddly like a gilded cage.

Y/N accepted, telling herself it was a temporary measure, a way to gain new experience. But working alongside Dante meant her professional world became even more intertwined with his personal one. He praised her work effusively, making her feel valued, but also ensuring she was constantly within his orbit. He would often drop by her workspace, his presence both encouraging and subtly watchful.

The few times Y/N tried to re-establish contact with old friends or pursue independent projects, unforeseen obstacles seemed to arise. A sudden illness would prevent her from attending a gathering. A crucial email would get lost in her spam folder. While individually these incidents seemed innocuous, collectively they painted a picture of a life being carefully curated, with Dante holding the brush.

One afternoon, while tidying up Dante’s study, Y/N stumbled upon a file tucked away in a drawer. Curiosity piqued, she opened it. Inside were meticulously compiled notes – details about her friends, her colleagues, even casual acquaintances she had mentioned. There were schedules, contact information, and surprisingly detailed summaries of their interactions with her. A chill ran down her spine. It felt like an invasion, a silent surveillance she had never consented to.

When Dante returned, Y/N tried to broach the subject delicately. “I was looking for a pen in your study, and I… I found a file,” she began, her voice trembling slightly.

Dante’s easy smile didn’t waver. He took the file from her hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Ah, that. Just some… background research for a potential project. You know how thorough I like to be, cara.” He chuckled lightly, as if it were a trivial matter. “Sometimes understanding the people around someone important to you is… prudent.”

His explanation sounded plausible, but the unease in Y/N’s heart didn’t dissipate. The level of detail in the file felt far beyond mere prudence. It felt like an obsession.

Despite the growing apprehension, Y/N found herself increasingly isolated. Dante had become her primary social connection, her confidant, her provider. The subtle erosion of her other relationships had left a void that he readily filled. She reasoned with herself, focusing on his undeniable affection, the comfort of his luxurious lifestyle, and the security he offered. Perhaps she was overthinking things. Perhaps his attentiveness was simply a reflection of how deeply he cared.

But the memory of the file lingered, a seed of doubt that continued to sprout in the fertile ground of her subconscious. She started paying closer attention to his interactions, to the way he spoke about others, to the almost imperceptible tightening of his grip on her hand when she spoke to another man.

One evening, at a charity gala, Y/N ran into an old university friend, Marco. They hadn't seen each other in years, and they fell into an animated conversation, reminiscing about old times and catching up on their current lives. Dante, who had been briefly engaged in a conversation with a business associate, joined them after a few minutes. His smile was polite, but there was a possessive arm that snaked around Y/N’s waist, pulling her slightly closer.

As Marco excused himself to get a drink, Dante’s smile dropped. “He seemed… overly familiar, wouldn’t you say, cara?” His voice was low, almost a purr, but there was an edge to it that made Y/N uncomfortable.

“We were just catching up, Dante. We haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“Of course, my love. I trust you implicitly. It’s just… some people can’t be trusted. They might try to take what’s mine.” His gaze swept across the crowded room, lingering for a moment on Marco’s retreating figure. The look in his eyes was cold, possessive, and undeniably threatening.

In that moment, the carefully constructed illusion of a doting partner wavered, revealing the steel beneath. Y/N felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool air conditioning. She was beginning to understand the true nature of Dante’s affection, and the realization was far more terrifying than any mysterious stalker or anonymous threat. Her gilded cage was closing in, and the man who had promised her the world was slowly but surely making her his captive.

The encounter at the gala left Y/N with a gnawing unease. Dante’s possessiveness, once masked by charming gestures and declarations of love, had revealed a sharper, more menacing edge. She started to notice other instances, subtle yet unsettling, that reinforced this growing fear. A casual mention of a male colleague’s promotion was met with a dismissive wave of his hand. A friendly greeting from a neighbor elicited a curt nod in return. It was as if anyone who showed even a flicker of positive attention towards her was viewed as a potential adversary.

Y/N began to tread carefully in her conversations, consciously omitting details about interactions with others, downplaying any external connections. She found herself increasingly isolated, her world shrinking to the confines of her relationship with Dante. The vibrant, independent woman she once was felt like a distant memory, replaced by someone more cautious, more… compliant.

One afternoon, Y/N decided to revisit her old design portfolio, a collection of projects that represented her passion and her aspirations. As she flipped through the pages, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, a longing for the creative freedom she once enjoyed. She mentioned to Dante that she was thinking of dusting off some old ideas.

His initial response was encouraging. “That’s wonderful, my dear! I always knew you were incredibly talented.” But as she started to dedicate time to her sketches and mock-ups, his enthusiasm seemed to wane. He would interrupt her work with requests, often trivial, or suggest they spend the evening out, his tone brooking no argument.

“Don’t you think you’re spending too much time on this, Y/N?” he asked one evening, his gaze lingering on her drawing board. “You’re so much more vibrant when we’re together, enjoying ourselves. This… solitary pursuit seems a bit dull for someone as radiant as you.”

His words, though seemingly gentle, carried an undercurrent of disapproval. Y/N felt a familiar pang of guilt, a feeling that her own interests were somehow selfish or a distraction from their relationship. Slowly, her portfolio was relegated to a corner of the room, her creative spark dimming under the weight of his subtle discouragement.

The digital realm, once a source of connection and inspiration, also began to feel constrained. Dante had casually mentioned installing a new security system on their home network, citing concerns about online privacy. Shortly after, Y/N noticed her internet browsing history seemed to be readily available on his laptop. When she questioned him, he explained it away as a feature of the new system, a way for them to both be aware of any potential threats. The idea of her online activity being monitored, even under the guise of security, felt like another violation of her personal space.

Her phone, too, felt less like a personal device and more like an extension of his reach. He would often ask to see photos she had taken, or casually glance at her messages when she was using it. While he never explicitly demanded access, the expectation was always there, a silent pressure to be transparent and open with him at all times.

One day, Y/N received an email from a former professor, inviting her to speak at a design alumni event. It was a significant opportunity, a chance to reconnect with her peers and share her work. She felt a surge of excitement, a flicker of the independent spirit she had almost forgotten.

She mentioned the invitation to Dante, her voice filled with a hopeful anticipation. His reaction was not what she expected. His smile tightened, and a shadow crossed his eyes.

“An alumni event?” he repeated, his tone flat. “When is this?”

“Next month,” Y/N replied, her enthusiasm slightly dampened by his lack of excitement.

“And where is it being held?”

“At the university campus, downtown.”

Dante was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her. “That’s… quite a while away. We’ll see how things are then, won’t we, my dear? Our schedule can get so unpredictable.”

The dismissive tone stung. It was clear he had no intention of encouraging her participation. He then launched into a discussion about their upcoming vacation plans, effectively steering the conversation away from the alumni event. Y/N felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. It wasn’t just about the event itself; it was about the subtle but persistent way he was chipping away at her independence, her connections to her past, her aspirations for the future.

As the days passed, Y/N found herself increasingly isolated and reliant on Dante. He had become her entire world, a world that, while filled with luxury and affection, felt increasingly suffocating. The fear that had begun as a whisper was now a constant hum beneath the surface of her thoughts. She loved him, or at least she thought she did, but the man she had fallen for seemed to be slowly morphing into someone she barely recognized – a possessive force determined to keep her entirely to himself.

The realization was chilling. Dante’s love wasn’t about cherishing her individuality; it was about ownership. And Y/N knew, with a growing certainty, that escaping his grasp would be far more difficult than she could ever have imagined. The comfortable life he had promised had become a gilded cage, and the man who held the key believed, with every fiber of his being, that she belonged inside it, forever.

Y/N’s attempts to maintain a semblance of her former life became increasingly challenging. Small gestures of independence were often met with subtle resistance, disguised as concern or affection. If she suggested meeting a friend for lunch, Dante would conveniently have a midday appointment that he insisted on her accompanying him to. If she expressed interest in a new hobby, he would shower her with expensive equipment but then monopolize her evenings with elaborate dinner plans.

The weight of his constant presence was beginning to feel oppressive. Y/N found herself longing for solitude, for moments where she could simply be alone with her thoughts, free from his watchful gaze and the subtle pressure to always be engaged with him. Even mundane tasks, like reading a book or taking a bath, felt like opportunities for him to insert himself, wanting to know what she was reading, or offering to join her in the bathroom “to relax together.”

One weekend, Y/N’s sister, Lena, called, excited about a local art fair. Lena had always been a vibrant and independent spirit, and Y/N cherished their connection. When Y/N mentioned the fair to Dante, hoping he might be interested in joining them, his reaction was lukewarm.

“An art fair, darling? Sounds… crowded. And you know how I dislike navigating large crowds. Perhaps we could have a quiet afternoon at the spa instead? They have that new couples massage everyone is raving about.”

Y/N tried to gently insist. “Lena is really looking forward to it, Dante. And it would be nice for us to spend some time together, just the three of us.”

Dante’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, if it’s important to you. But don’t say I didn’t offer you a more relaxing alternative.” His tone implied that her preference for spending time with her sister was somehow a rejection of his desire to pamper her.

The day of the art fair arrived, and Dante’s reluctance was palpable. He trailed behind Y/N and Lena, his expression a mask of polite boredom. He made little effort to engage in conversation, occasionally interjecting with a cynical remark about the artwork or the other attendees. Lena, sensing the tension, tried her best to keep the atmosphere light, but Y/N felt a familiar wave of guilt for not choosing Dante’s preferred activity.

Later that evening, after Lena had left, Dante brought up the art fair again. “Lena seems… very opinionated,” he commented casually, as they were getting ready for bed. “And perhaps a little too involved in your life, don’t you think, cara? We need to protect our space, our intimacy.”

Y/N felt a surge of defensiveness. “She’s my sister, Dante. She cares about me.”

“Of course she does,” he said smoothly, taking her hand. “But you have me now, Y/N. I am your family. My priority is your happiness, your well-being. Sometimes, those outside our circle… they don’t always understand what’s best for us.”

His words, though delivered with a veneer of tenderness, sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. It was a clear message: her loyalties should lie solely with him. Anyone else was an outsider, a potential threat to their carefully constructed world.

The subtle manipulations extended to her communication with Lena as well. Dante would often be present during their phone calls, his proximity making Y/N hesitant to share any concerns or feelings of unease. He would also casually inquire about the details of their conversations afterward, his interest bordering on interrogation. Slowly, Y/N’s calls with her sister became shorter, less frequent, the easy intimacy replaced by a guarded politeness.

Y/N knew she needed to find a way to reclaim some semblance of her independence, but the walls of Dante’s affection felt increasingly impenetrable. Every attempt to create distance was met with an intensified display of love and devotion, making her feel guilty for even considering such a thing. He had woven a web of comfort and security, making the prospect of leaving seem both terrifying and ungrateful.

One evening, while Dante was away on a business trip, Y/N found herself alone in their expansive home. The silence, usually a welcome respite, felt heavy with unspoken anxieties. She wandered through the rooms, each luxurious detail a reminder of the life Dante had provided, a life that now felt more like a beautifully decorated prison.

In his study, she noticed his laptop was open. An impulse, a desperate need for some understanding, led her to sit down and look through his recent activity. What she found sent a cold dread through her. There were emails to private investigators, detailing inquiries into the lives of her friends, her former colleagues, even her sister. There were financial transactions that didn’t align with his usual business dealings. And then she found it – a series of encrypted messages with an unknown contact, the contents unreadable but the implications chilling.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. The pieces clicked into place – the lost opportunities, the strained friendships, the feeling of being constantly watched. It wasn’t paranoia; it was reality. Dante wasn’t just possessive; he was actively manipulating and controlling her life in ways she hadn’t even imagined.

The man she loved, the man who claimed to adore her, was systematically isolating her, ensuring her complete dependence on him. The comfortable life he had promised was built on a foundation of control and deceit. As the key turned in the front door, signaling Dante’s return, Y/N knew that everything had changed. The fear she had been suppressing had solidified into a desperate need to escape. The question was, how? And would she even have the chance?

The sound of Dante’s key turning in the lock sent a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N. She quickly closed his laptop, her mind racing. She couldn’t let him know what she had discovered, not yet. She needed time, a plan.

She forced a smile as he entered the study, his usual charming demeanor in place. “Welcome back, darling. How was your trip?”

“Exhausting, but successful,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her. Y/N flinched inwardly at his touch, the intimacy now tainted by the knowledge of his manipulations.

Over the next few days, Y/N played a dangerous game. She acted as if nothing had changed, mirroring his affection, engaging in their usual routines. But beneath the surface, she was carefully observing, planning. She started subtly gathering information, recalling details of their conversations, looking for any vulnerabilities in his meticulously constructed control.

She realized that Dante’s possessiveness, while all-encompassing, was also his weakness. He believed her complete dependence on him was a guarantee of her loyalty. He had become complacent, confident that she would never try to leave.

Y/N began to subtly push back, testing the waters. She reinstated her calls with Lena, keeping the conversations light but re-establishing the connection. She mentioned a desire to reconnect with an old work colleague, framing it as a networking opportunity. To her surprise, Dante offered little resistance, perhaps believing he had already neutralized any potential “threats.”

This small taste of freedom emboldened her. She started making discreet inquiries about job openings, using public computers at the library to avoid detection on their home network. She saved a small amount of cash, carefully hidden away from Dante’s watchful eyes.

The opportunity she had been waiting for came unexpectedly. Dante received an invitation to an out-of-state business conference, one that would require him to be away for almost a week. He seemed almost apologetic about leaving her, showering her with extra attention and gifts in the days leading up to his departure.

“I don’t like leaving you alone for so long, my dear,” he said, his eyes filled with what seemed like genuine concern. “But it’s a crucial opportunity for the company. I’ll call you every day, multiple times a day. And I’ve arranged for extra security to be around the house, just to be safe.”

The “extra security” was a chilling reminder of his control, but it also presented a window of opportunity. With him away, and the security likely focused on keeping others out rather than her in, Y/N knew this was her chance.

The day Dante left, Y/N acted normal, waving goodbye with a forced smile as his car disappeared down the driveway. As soon as she was sure he was gone, a wave of nervous energy washed over her. She had a limited time, and she had to be meticulous.

She contacted Lena, explaining the situation in hushed tones, careful not to reveal too much over the phone. Lena, horrified by what Y/N told her, immediately offered her support. They arranged a meeting point, a quiet café far from their usual haunts.

Over the next few days, Y/N methodically gathered her most important documents, a few changes of clothes, and the small amount of money she had saved. She deleted incriminating emails and messages from Dante’s laptop and her phone, covering her tracks as best she could.

The waiting was agonizing. Every phone call from Dante, filled with his usual affectionate inquiries, felt like a tightrope walk. She had to maintain the facade of a loving partner while her heart pounded with fear and anticipation.

Finally, the day arrived. Y/N told Dante she had a spa appointment, a treat he had often encouraged. He seemed pleased she was taking care of herself while he was away. Little did he know, the “spa” was the café where Lena was waiting.

The reunion with her sister was emotional, a mixture of relief and lingering fear. Lena had arranged a temporary place for Y/N to stay, a small, anonymous apartment in a different part of the city.

Y/N knew she couldn’t disappear completely. Dante’s resources were vast, and he wouldn’t give up easily. With Lena’s help, she contacted a lawyer, someone experienced in handling complex and sensitive cases. The lawyer listened to her story with grave concern, outlining the legal options and the potential dangers.

The process of legally extricating herself from Dante’s control was long and arduous. His initial reaction to her departure was one of disbelief, followed by a furious barrage of calls and messages. When those went unanswered, he resorted to more subtle tactics, reaching out to mutual acquaintances, painting himself as the wronged and heartbroken partner.

But Y/N, armed with the knowledge of his manipulations and the support of her sister and her lawyer, stood firm. The fear was still there, a constant shadow, but it was now overshadowed by a growing sense of resolve. She had taken the first step towards reclaiming her life, her independence.

The road ahead would undoubtedly be challenging. Dante’s possessiveness ran deep, and his influence was far-reaching. But Y/N was no longer the naive woman who had been swept off her feet by his charm. She had seen the darkness beneath the surface, and she was determined to break free from his gilded cage, to rebuild a life where her laughter was genuine, her connections were real, and her heart belonged only to herself. The fight for her freedom had just begun.

[kendralynn03]

My Personal Astrology Observations :

8H Jupiter (Rx)

Probably super into astrology, mythology, or anything otherworldly.

That "everything just somehow works out" luck.

Not loud or flashy just slow, quiet blessings that stack up over time.

Moon in the 1st House

People love you, and you don't even have to try. You radiate a natural comfort

just have this kind energy to them

Even when you're in the wrong, people still focus on your heart it's that strong.

Super considerate.

Kids are obsessed with you. Always climbing on you, talking to you, wanting to play

Pisces: Please Stay Away from Capricorns.

I think they are too emotionally closed off for y'all

You need surprise dates, love letters, affection not someone who says "ok" when you spill your heart out

(Personal observation experience : My Capricorn sister & her Pisces baby daddy one too emotional one too emotionless.

My other Pisces sister is dating a Cap right now and it's. it's something.

In both relationships: emotional disconnect and D.V. patterns. Be careful.)

And also the way my two sisters butt heads is crazzzy if it wasn’t for me they fs would not speak to each other

Pisces + Gemini

I’ve noticed they Start off strong with their goofy friendship energy, but once the lights cut out and the way they express emotions comes out to play it's pure chaos if they are both unhealed.

Gemini will call you out. Pisces (especially unhealed ones) cannot handle the emotional bluntness. It blows up every time.

Two Capricorns in love? ( well depending other aspects and placements of course but In the case of sun signs they will occasionally but heads and suppress emotions so all that unsaid tension builds up slowly )

Like watching two bricks fight to the death.

Zero softness. All business. Good luck Imao.

Venus in the 10H

Talented af: hair, art, design

they've always had "the eye."

Constantly rearranging their room. Big interior design energy.

Venus in Sagittarius/ 2H

Gets bored so fast.

New hobby, new song, new celebrity crush every week.

Craves freedom: to speak, feel, and exist without being judged.

Super open-minded and always crafting

Saturn in the 1H

Patience of a saint. Like how are you not snapping rn???

Calm in chaos.

Very responsible & Helpful, You want them on your team.

Saturn in the 7H Retrograde

Either "what's a love life?" or "I've had the worst love life imaginable."

Tends to struggle with long-term friendships.

Always giving 200% in group projects or work even if nobody else is.

Mercury in Scorpio / 1H

Always trying to improve their vocabulary.

Insecure about the way they talk

might write a lot

Definitely a reader.

Moon in the 4H:

Mommy issues, Mommy ISSUESSS!!

Might have had a lot of female figures in their life who made them feel small, worthless, or like they were never enough.

Always on edge around them, walking on eggshells. was very intimidated by them or any adult figure.

Probably wasn't acknowledged much as a kid or picked on a lot by family.

were probably only noticed when they were in trouble or being judged.

You were either silenced or constantly criticized over looks or for being " too sensitive" Feels like you can never do anything right

You might've even felt like the emotional punching bag in the household.

You feel safest when you're alone, but deep down, all you wanted was to be seen and protected.

Could write poetry.

#takewhatisaywithagrainofsalt

[saoney]

Ocean's Fire

𖠋 Incubus! Rafayel ♡ Fem! Reader 𖠋

After two weeks apart, you return home to find your boyfriend missing and unresponsive. When you track him down, you discover he's been transformed by an experimental aphrodisiac—complete with horns, glowing red eyes, and an insatiable supernatural hunger that only you can satisfy.

⚠️ Please read responsibly - This story contains themes of dubious consent and penetrative sex, m → f that may be triggering for some readers.

🐚 Author’s Note: My smut debut!!! I’m so happy that I finally get to experience writing a proper smut with my beloved Sea God 🥹🎉 props to all of the smut writers because I almost went bald writing this fic (ﾉ´ｰ`)ﾉ

🫧 Comment and reblog are deeply appreciated ‹𝟹

The past two weeks had been torture disguised as duty.

Your field training assignment had you stationed in the wilderness, grinding through Wanderer combat simulations from dawn to dusk. Every muscle ached, every nerve was frayed, but the moment you collapsed into your cot each night, there was Rafayel—bathed in the warm glow from the studio lights, violet eyes heavy with longing as he asked about your day in that honeyed voice that made your chest tight with missing him.

"Did my sweet darling miss me today?" he'd purr into the camera, artistic fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Tell me what you're wearing. Better yet, show me."

Those late-night video calls were your lifeline. Even with his own hectic schedule—flying across the country with Thomas for his upcoming exhibition, managing interviews and gallery visits—Rafayel always made time for you. He'd prop his phone against his easel during breaks, painting with one hand while the other traced suggestive patterns in the air, describing in exquisite detail what he planned to do to you when you returned.

"I've been sketching you from memory," he'd whisper during one particularly heated call, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that made your thighs clench. "Want to see how I imagine you spread out on my silk sheets? How I remember the way you arch when I—"

"Rafayel," you'd breathe, already reaching for yourself.

"That's my good girl. Let me watch you come undone for me."

But on day ten, the calls stopped.

Your phone sat silent. Messages went unread. The absence of his teasing voice, his ridiculous pet names, his constant digital affection—it carved a hollow ache in your chest that grew deeper with each passing hour.

By day twelve, worry had transformed into hurt. By day fourteen, hurt had crystallized into anger.

Your transport touched down in Linkon City under gray skies, and finally—finally—your phone buzzed.

[Rafayel 📱: Welcome home, cutie.]

[Rafayel 📱: Still away for work. Don't wait up.]

The message was ice-cold. Clinical. Nothing like the man who usually greeted your returns with paragraphs of purple prose about how the city had been colorless without you.

Your fingers moved to Find My before you could stop them.

His location pulsed steadily: Mo Art Studio.

Home.

The betrayal hit like a physical blow. He was lying to you. After two weeks of radio silence, he was lying to your face.

Twenty minutes later, you stood before his door, keycard trembling in your grip. The evening air should have been cool, but heat seemed to radiate from behind the entrance like a furnace.

You knocked. Waited. Knocked harder.

Nothing.

Your keycard beeped softly as the lock disengaged.

The moment you stepped inside, the heat hit you like a wall. Suffocating, humid, wrong. Rafayel's home was always perfectly climate-controlled—he claimed his Lemurian blood made him sensitive to temperature fluctuations, though you suspected he just liked giving you excuses to warm him up.

"Rafayel!" Your voice echoed in the dim space. Curtains drawn, lights off, the air thick enough to taste. "I know you're here!"

Silence.

You climbed the stairs on unsteady legs, following the oppressive heat to its source. His bedroom door stood ajar, and through the gap, you could see a figure curled on the bed.

The room was an oven. Dark as a cave. And there he was—shirtless, trembling, breath coming in sharp gasps like he was drowning on dry land.

"Rafayel." All your anger dissolved into concern. "Why haven't you answered me? Why did you lie about being away?"

He didn't respond. Didn't even acknowledge your presence.

You reached for his shoulder, and the moment your fingers made contact, you jerked back with a gasp. His skin was burning—not fever-hot, but scalding, like touching a heated stone.

"Jesus, you're sick—we need to get you to a hospital—"

"Don't." His voice was barely a rasp. "Please, cutie. Don't touch me. You need to leave."

He tried to roll away from you, but the movement was weak, uncoordinated. When he finally turned to face you, your heart stopped.

His eyes—those beautiful amethyst eyes that sparkled with mischief and adoration—were nearly crimson. Glowing like embers in the darkness.

"What happened to you?" You knelt beside the bed, hands hovering over him, afraid to cause more pain. "Rafayel, talk to me. Please."

He squeezed his eyes shut, whole body shuddering. "Thomas's colleague. New bar opening in the arts district. They served us some experimental cocktail—said it was a prototype aphrodisiac for Valentine's Day. I thought it was just marketing nonsense."

Understanding crashed over you like cold water. "How long?"

"Three days." His laugh was bitter, broken. "Three days of hell. I can't eat, can't sleep, can't think about anything but you. Every nerve in my body is on fire, and the only thing that helps is—" He cut himself off with a groan.

You reached for his hand instinctively, and his fingers latched onto yours with desperate strength.

The contact seemed to send electricity through him. His breathing hitched, back arching off the bed.

"You have to go," he gasped, but his grip on your hand tightened. "I'm barely holding on. If you stay, I don't know if I can control myself. I don't want to hurt you, don't want to scare you—"

His words dissolved into a tortured moan, his whole body convulsing as if he were fighting a war within himself—and losing. "No, no, no," he gasped, clawing at his own chest as the transformation began to consume him. Dark markings erupted across his skin like living shadows, spreading from his heart outward in intricate, pulsing patterns that seemed to writhe and breathe with malevolent life. The black ink-like designs carved themselves deeper into his flesh, glowing faintly with each ragged breath he took.

His canines stretched into razor-sharp fangs with an audible crack, and you watched in horrified fascination as two elegant horns tore through the skin of his temples, curving back through his disheveled hair like a dark crown. Blood trickled down his face from where they emerged.

Then he laughed—a low, dangerous sound that was nothing like his usual warm chuckle. It was predatory, unhinged, utterly inhuman. When his eyes snapped open, they blazed with primal hunger, all traces of your gentle artist boyfriend buried beneath the creature that now possessed him.

His grip on your hand, which had been weak and trembling moments before, suddenly tightened like a vice, fingers digging into your skin with supernatural strength.

"Too late to run now, cutie," he whispered, voice layered with dark promise.

Then he yanked you down onto the bed with him, his strength making it effortless as he dragged you against his burning body. His lips crashed against yours with desperate hunger, hands tangling in your hair as he kissed you like a man drowning. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, scalding even through your clothes, his body trembling with barely restrained need. Despite the transformation, his touch was still reverent, still unmistakably him beneath the hunger that consumed him.

When he finally pulled back, you were gasping, vision blurred, completely at his mercy on the rumpled sheets beneath him.

"I'm sorry," he purred against your lips, voice dripping with dark amusement. "I'm not gonna stop until this fire burns itself out, and you're gonna take everything I give you right, cutie? Don't worry—I'll be gentle… mostly. Now why don't you be a good little hunter for me, yeah?"

His mouth found your throat, pressing hot kisses to your pulse point while his hands worked at your clothes with precision. Each piece of fabric that fell away earned you praise whispered against your skin.

"Perfect," he murmured, mouth trailing down to worship your exposed chest. "I've been dreaming of this. Sketching these curves from memory until my fingers cramped."

He took his time despite the urgency thrumming through him—lavishing attention on every inch of skin, building you up with touches and kisses until you were arching beneath him, completely pliant.

His hands smoothly unclasped your bra, fingers reverent as they traced your curves. Without wasting a moment, his mouth was on your breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples before he sucked them into his mouth, drawing desperate whimpers from your lips.

"Rafayel," you gasped, back arching as he lavished attention on your chest. "Please—"

"Shh, cutie," he murmured against your skin, mouth trailing hot kisses down your belly. "Let me worship you properly."

His hands urgently undid your pants, sliding them down your legs with agonizing slowness. When he finally settled between your thighs, he inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back in bliss.

"I can smell your arousal," he growled, voice rough with need. "So sweet, so perfect. I've been through hell trying to control myself. Do you know how many times I've imagined this? How many sketches I've ruined thinking about eating you?"

"Rafayel, please," you whimpered, hips bucking toward his face. "I need—"

"I know exactly what you need," he whispered, voice dropping to a dangerous octave as those burning red eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His expression was beautifully terrifying—tender love warring with predatory hunger. "Now I'm going to worship this beautiful cunt until you forget everything but my name."

He dove in with feral hunger, tongue dragging broad, possessive strokes up your slit before attacking your clit with relentless precision. His mouth devoured you—lapping, sucking, biting gently at your most sensitive flesh with desperate, animalistic need. Every sound he made was pure worship, muffled moans of satisfaction vibrating against you.

"Oh god, oh god," you cried, hands fisting in his hair as he pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with wet, sinful strokes. "Don't stop, please don't stop—"

He moaned against your core like a starving man at a feast, the vibrations resonating through your bones and setting every nerve ending ablaze. Each desperate movement of his tongue was calculated to feed the supernatural hunger clawing at his insides while simultaneously destroying every defense you had left.

"Christ, you taste like heaven," he groaned between ravenous licks, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort with pleasure. "You're so addicting. I could spend eternity right here, drinking every drop you give me."

Your first orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, spine bowing impossibly as you screamed his name with raw, broken desperation. But he was merciless—couldn't be anything else—his mouth never leaving you as he lapped up every tremor, every aftershock, prolonging your climax until you were sobbing from the intensity.

"Too much," you gasped, trying to push his head away, but he caught your wrists.

"No such thing," he purred, and dove back in, making you cum again on his tongue until you were sobbing with oversensitivity.

When he finally pulled away, face glistening with your arousal, he cupped your tear-stained cheeks lovingly. "Look at you, already crying for me. We're far from finished, Y/N."

Rafayel rose to his knees, hands moving to unzip his pants with desperate urgency. When he finally freed his cock, it was flushed and angry, precum beading at the tip from hours of torment and anticipation. His burning red eyes locked onto you—taking in the sight of you panting and sprawled beneath him, eyes half-lidded and completely wrecked from his mouth. The vision alone made his cock twitch violently, demanding immediate relief.

"So beautiful," he breathed, voice thick with reverence and lust. "So ready for me."

He wrapped his hand around his lenght, stroking slowly edging himself while his gaze devoured every inch of your trembling form. The sight of you, so perfectly wrecked and waiting, had him practically salivating with anticipation.

With deliberate, torturous slowness, he dragged the head of his cock from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal along the way. The teasing made you mewl desperately beneath him, hips bucking for more contact.

"Please," you whimpered, but he just smirked, slapping his cock against your sensitive cunt with wet, obscene sounds.

The heat radiating from your core, the slick wetness coating him, the way you clenched around nothing—it all made him hiss in pure pleasure.

"So wet for me," he groaned, continuing his torturous teasing.

"Think you can take me, cutie?" His voice was low and teasing as you felt him playing at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your opening. The stretch was burning and delicious—until he pulled out completely, leaving you feeling empty and desperate.

"I don't think so," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You almost felt like crying from his relentless teasing. Without a second thought, you abandoned all pride and begged for his mercy. "Please, Rafayel... I want it. I want you so badly."

"Yeah?" He was still teasing, pressing soft kisses to your tear-dampened eyes with surprising tenderness.

"Yeah," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

For a moment he held your gaze, studying your face as you gave him the most pleading look you could muster, hoping your puppy eyes would finally make him cave. Something shifted in his expression—desire winning over his need to torment you.

Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance again, the head of his cock nudging against your opening. Both of you moaned in unison as he began to slide into you slowly, savoring every inch as he filled you completely. The stretch was overwhelming after your orgasms, making you whimper and claw at his shoulders.

"That's it, take all of me," he breathed, bottoming out with a groan. "You're gripping me so tight. Like your body doesn't want to let me go."

"I don't," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Never want you to leave me again."

He began to move, thrusts deep and reverent, hands mapping every curve of your body like he was committing you to memory for his next masterpiece. His own moans and whimpers filled the air, the desperate sounds making you even wetter.

"You're taking me so perfectly," he praised, voice breaking with emotion. "Like you were made for this cock. Gods, I missed how warm you are inside, how you flutter around me when you're close."

"Rafayel," you moaned, already feeling another orgasm building. "You feel so good, so deep—"

"That's my girl," he groaned, angling his hips to hit that spot that made you see stars. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

You were cock-drunk fast, lost in the rhythm of his hips and the filthy praise spilling from his lips. When you came again, clenching around him, he nearly lost control.

"More," you gasped against his lips. "Need more of you."

Something primal flashed in his eyes. In one fluid motion, he flipped you onto your hands and knees, the sudden change making you cry out.

"You want more?" he growled, hands gripping your hips as he drove into you from behind. "I-ah-can't refuse you."

This angle was devastating—each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you while his hands roamed your body possessively. You could feel yourself getting wetter soaking the bed sheet underneath you, the obscene sounds of your coupling filling the room.

"Listen to how wet you are," he panted, one hand sliding up to cup your breast. "So fucking beautiful like this, taking my cock so well. You're mine, aren't you? Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," you sobbed, face pressed into the pillows. "Always yours, Raf— Rafayel!"

"That's right," he groaned, thrusts becoming more demanding. "My petite artiste, so messy and desperate for me."

But he needed more. Needed to see you fall apart in every way possible.

"On your back," he commanded, and when you complied on shaking legs, he pulled your legs up into a mating press, folding you nearly in half. The new angle made you scream, overwhelmed by how deep he could go.

"Look at me," he demanded, his glowing eyes boring into yours. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum for me again. Want to watch you fall apart."

The intensity was too much—the way he watched every expression cross your face, the desperate love and lust warring in his gaze. Your eyes rolled back as he hit that perfect spot over and over, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure.

"There you are," he whispered, voice filled with dark satisfaction. "Look at you, so beautiful when you're completely gone for me."

When your orgasm crashed over you, it was earth-shattering. You came with a broken scream, body convulsing around him as he moaned your name like a prayer. The intensity of watching you fall apart, of feeling you clench around him so perfectly, made blood drip from his nose onto your chest, the incubus potion overwhelming even his supernatural constitution.

"I can't cum anymore," you sobbed, thighs shaking from overstimulation, mascara running down your cheeks. "Please, Rafayel, I can't—"

But your pleas only seemed to spur him on. The sadistic part of the incubus potion loved seeing you so wrecked, so desperate, so perfectly ruined.

"Of course you can, cutie," he purred, pulling out only to maneuver you into his lap. "Look at this tear-stained face—so pitiful, so drunk on my cock. Makes me wanna fuck you even more."

"Please," you whimpered, but whether you were begging him to stop or continue, neither of you knew.

"One more," he coaxed, guiding you down onto his cock. "You have no idea what you do to me"

Face to face now, you could see every expression cross his beautiful, dangerous features. His hands roamed your body possessively while you rocked against him, completely lost in sensation.

"That's my good girl," he whispered against your ear, then bit down gently on your earlobe. "Taking everything I give you, even when you're crying from how good it feels. You're so perfect, so intoxicating when you're falling apart for me."

"Rafayel," you gasped, eyes rolling back again as he hit that spot that made you see white. "I'm going to—"

"I know, baby. Let go for me one last time."

Your final orgasm was devastating, your vision going white as your body convulsed around him. You came with a silent scream, completely overwhelmed by sensation, and watching you reach that peak of pleasure pushed him over the edge.

He came with a broken moan, holding you tight against him as he spilled inside you, nose bleeding more heavily now from the sheer intensity of the moment.

The last thing you remembered was his face above you, handsome and ethereal with his horns and glowing eyes, completely drunk on pleasure as he buried himself deep inside you, whispering your name like a benediction and the satisfaction of finally being able to touch you after days of torment. Your own face was a mess of tears and smeared makeup, eyes glassy and unfocused from being thoroughly claimed by your temporarily-incubus lover.

When consciousness returned, golden morning light was streaming through the curtains, and the softest lips were pressing tender kisses along your cheek like butterfly touches.

"Morning, my sweet darling," Rafayel murmured, his voice back to its familiar warm velvet. The horns had vanished, his eyes returned to that beloved amethyst shade, though delicate traces of the dark markings still lingered like watercolor stains across his skin. "Sleep well?"

You groaned softly, every muscle in your body singing a chorus of pleasant aches as you tried to stretch. "You're absolutely impossible."

He grinned with zero remorse, looking devastatingly handsome in the morning light. "And you love me anyway. Want to take a warm bath? I'll wash your hair and tell you about all the masterpieces I'm going to paint inspired by last night."

Despite your mock indignation, you couldn't suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "You're buying me breakfast first. The fancy kind. And coffee—really good coffee."

"Anything for you," he agreed easily, then leaned down to nuzzle into the curve of your neck, his voice dropping to that achingly familiar teasing whisper. "But first... want to hear about this incredible dream I had about you in my bathtub?"

You were glad Rafayel was back to normal, but if you were being honest with yourself, Incubus Rafayel was kind of hot… You wondered if he'd be willing to be one for Halloween this year.

[astrofaeology]

Aphrodite in the Houses

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me and commenting your aphrodite placement. The asteroid Aphrodite (1388), is a beautiful asteroid which explores the romance in oneself and how they appreciate the world around them.

🐚 1st House A very sweet yet confident aura surrounds you when you walk into the room. There's an understanding that you know art and you know it well. Your taste is impecible and you have a cheeky grin on your face when you enter the room, which captivates everyone. Appearances mean alot to you, and that's reflected in your soul.

🐚 2nd House You have a very elgant throat and perhaps have some curves to your hips. This house is bathed in luxury and desire, you may want to hold onto your loved ones or items for dear life. As it may be rare for you to find something that rings thoes bells in your heart.

🐚 3rd House Your beauty sparkles with vivacity and grace, illuminated by your animated expressions and keen intellect. A youthful, luminous charm emanates from your every word and fleeting, radiant smile. In love, you weave a tapestry of wit and playful discourse, where conversation and subtle teasing kindle a romance that feels endlessly fresh and invigorating.

🐚 4th House Such tender and intimate, emanating a gentle warmth that evokes the sanctuary of home. The presence of someone being beside, holding you - may be the passage to your heart, or how you capture others'. You possess a soothing presence, offering love that is profoundly nurturing and quietly protective—a refuge where affection grows in tranquil intimacy.

🐚 5th House Your radiance is exuberant and theatrical, a luminous celebration of joy and creativity. You shine with a regal grace, captivating through passionate expression and playful allure. Music is your life and soul and i would recommend you dabble in the arts of some sort.Your romance is a vibrant performance, full of heartfelt grandeur and delightful spontaneity.

🐚 6th House Your beauty is understated and refined, manifesting in thoughtful gestures and meticulous care. There is an elegant simplicity in your devotion, expressed through gentle attentiveness and a gracious commitment to the everyday acts of love.

🐚 7th House Your elegance lies in balance and harmony, an exquisite blend of charm and diplomacy. You embody the art of partnership, radiating a serene beauty that fosters mutual respect and graceful connection. In love, you are a consummate collaborator, weaving unity and affection with delicate finesse.

🐚 8th House Your allure is profound and enigmatic, a magnetic depth that invites intimate exploration. There is an irresistible intensity in your gaze, revealing a soul both passionate and mysterious. Your love is transformative, a sacred intertwining of vulnerability and power.

🐚 9th House Your beauty is expansive and radiant, suffused with an adventurous spirit and intellectual curiosity. You captivate through an open-hearted enthusiasm and a boundless desire for growth. Your romance is a voyage of shared discovery, inspiring a love that transcends horizons.

🐚 10th House Your presence is stately and refined, an embodiment of grace fused with ambition. You possess a dignified beauty that commands respect and admiration. In love, you express yourself with poised sincerity, crafting relationships marked by honor, loyalty, and shared purpose.

🐚 11th House Your charm is unconventional and visionary, radiating originality and progressive ideals. You attract through a compelling uniqueness and a sincere commitment to collective dreams. Your romantic nature is both friendly and idealistic, cultivating bonds grounded in mutual inspiration.

🐚 12th House Your beauty is ethereal and elusive, an exquisite subtlety that enchants with quiet mystery. There is a profound spiritual grace in your presence, offering love that is tender, compassionate, and deeply intuitive—a sacred refuge of emotional depth and poetic longing.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my 🍨 sales page.

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