≽^⚯^≼

19 | least sane zenji fan

[cwelestia]

“UNFILTERED”

Synopsis : It had happened after a particularly grueling mission in the Pit. You had boosted his stigma and the connection hadn’t quite snapped back into place. Now, whenever you were within ten feet of the delinquent, his voice echoed in your skull.

To respect his privacy, you did the only logical thing: you ran.

Tags : Sho Haizono x Reader, Female Reader, Lovesick Sho hehe

You are now currently hiding behind a stack of tires in the Vagastrom garage, watching Sho through a gap in the rubber. He was at his food truck aggressively flipping a spatula.

Man, where is she? Sho’s thought pierced through your brain, clear as a bell. I spent three hours perfecting this broth because she said the cafeteria’s soup tasted like dishwater. If she’s over there hanging out with that asshole Leo again, I’m gonna lose it.

You winced. You weren't with Leo; you were five feet away, feeling like a creep.

Shohei let out a loud, frustrated sigh, leaning over the counter of the truck. "Hey! Anyone seen my Senpai?" he shouted to a group of passing mooks. "If she’s slacking, tell her I’m taking her free meal credits!"

Lies. I’d never actually charge her, his mind added immediately, accompanied by a mental image of you smiling after a mission that made your heart skip a beat. She looked so tired yesterday. I just want her to sit down for five minutes so I can make sure she actually eats something that isn't a damn energy drink.

You couldn't take it. The sweetness of his concern, layered under that prickly exterior, was too much. You tried to slip away, but your boot caught on a metal scrap.

Clang.

Shohei’s head snapped toward the tires.

Found ya.

"Senpai? What are you doing skulking around like a stray cat?" Shohei walked over, wiping his hands on a grease-stained towel. He had that signature smirk on his face, the one that usually meant he was about to make your life difficult.

"You avoiding me? I didn't think you were the type to get scared of a little wrongdoing."

"I'm not avoiding you, Sho," you lied, stepping out and trying to keep your expression neutral. "I'm just... busy. Inspector stuff."

"Right. Busy hiding behind tires." He stepped into your personal space, his scent enveloping you.

She’s lying, his thoughts rumbled. Her heart’s racing. Is she sick? Did Hyde say something to her? If that bastard brother of mine annoyed her, I’m gonna go snowboard over his favorite lab equipment.

"You're acting weird," Sho said aloud, his eyes narrowing. He reached out, his fingers catching a lock of your hair. "You haven't been to the truck in three days. You cheating on my cooking with the Mystery Diner? Or is it Jin? You like those fancy Frostheim plates better than mine?"

Please say no. I’ll make whatever you want. I’ll even learn how to make that weird dessert you like.

"No one's cooking is better than yours, Sho," you whispered, the truth slipping out because his mental pleading was so earnest.

Shohei froze. A dark, dusty pink creeped up his neck. "Tch. Obviously. Don't say stuff like that so casually, y’know? It’s embarrassing."

God, I love it when she says stuff like that. I want to pull her into the truck and never let her leave. Keep her right there where it’s warm.

You felt your face heating up. "I... I have to go!"

You bolted before he could see you melt, leaving Shohei standing in the garage, his hand still suspended in the air.

What did I do? he wondered, his thoughts suddenly small and wounded. Did I tease her too hard? Dammit, Sho, you’re an idiot.

The distance lasted exactly four more hours. Sho had cornered you in the quiet corridor leading to your cathedral after classes ended. He didn't say a word; he just grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a small, shadowed alcove, pinning you against the cool stone wall.

"Alright, Senpai. Level with me." His voice was low, devoid of its usual playfulness. "What's the deal? You won't look at me, you won't eat my food, and you run every time I breathe in your direction. If you hate me, just say it. I'd rather you hate me to my face than... whatever this is."

It’s killing me, his mind whispered, the thought heavy with a vulnerability you’d never seen. I can’t focus. I almost put salt in the chocolate cake. If she leaves, this whole foodtruck thing doesn't even matter.

Your heart broke. You realized that by trying to respect his privacy, you were causing him more pain than the truth ever could.

"I don't hate you, Sho," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "I could never hate you. I was just... overwhelmed by how much I like you."

Shohei’s breath hitched. "Huh?"

Wait, for real? She likes me? Me?? FOR REAL??

"For real," you murmured, leaning in until your lips were inches from his. "I like the way you worry about me. I like that you perfect recipes just to see me smile. And I love that you'd snowboard over your brother's equipment for me."

Shohei’s eyes went wide. "How did you—?"

He didn't finish the question. He crashed his lips against yours, a desperate kiss that tasted of longing and relief. His hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer until there wasn't a breath of space between you.

As the kiss deepened, his thoughts became calm.

Finally. Her skin is so soft. I’m never letting go. I want to tell her everything. I want her to know she’s the only thing that makes this fresh hell of an academy bearable.

You pulled back just a fraction, your forehead resting against his. "You're the only thing that makes it bearable for me, too," you whispered.

Shohei’s grip tightened, his eyes shimmering with an intensity that made your knees weak. "You’re reading my mind, aren't you?" He let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. "Of course you are. You’re always one step ahead of me, Senpai."

I don't even care, his thoughts sang as he leaned down to nuzzle your neck. Read everything. See every embarrassing thing I think about you. See how much I’m completely, hopelessly besotted with you.

"I see it," you murmured, tilting your head to give him better access.

Shohei groaned, his lips tracing the line of your jaw. "I’m gonna make you the best dinner of your life tonight," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. "And then I’m gonna keep you in my room and make sure you never have a reason to run away again."

I’m gonna marry this girl, he thought with a sudden conviction. I’ll buy her a better ring than that Sage's thing. Something that doesn't curse her. Just something that says she’s mine.

You pulled him back into another kiss, drowning out the world and the static, leaving only the sound of a delinquent’s heart finally finding its home.

[cwelestia]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖MASTERPIECE🪭ּ ֶָ֢.๋࣭𓂃𓈒

Synopsis: After an eternity spent as a hollow observer, Zenji suddenly regains his humanity and spends a night anchored to the world through the physical proof of your love

Tags: Zenji Kotodama x Fem! Reader, Fluff and Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Zenji is slightly OOC, Emotional Sex, Crying, Zenji becomes human, Vaginal Sex, Praise, Yearning, Confessions

Notes: Thinking of Zenji whose sense of self-control is sent flying out the window the moment he looks at you like this. I’m not used to writing smut, I’m sorry in advance.

The room is bathed in the warm yellow hue of a single lantern, the air heavy with the scent of his favorite ink and the faint, rhythmic sound of cicadas outside. For the first time in an eternity, Zenji isn’t hovering; both of you are sitting on the edge of the futon, his weight finally creating a tangible press against the fabric. His purple locks, untied and falling over his shoulders, brushing against his skin with a softness that makes him shudder—a physical sensation he had nearly forgotten how to process.

As he slides his glasses off, his thin red eyes trace the flush on your face. Any sense of ghostly self-control tends to fly straight out the window when he looks at you like this. He began to disrobe you with an agonizing slowness, his breath scorching against your collarbone. Every time you winced or shifted, he was there with a compliment, a verbal benediction to soothe your nerves.

“To look upon you like this… it is the only masterpiece I ever truly wished to see,” he murmured, his fingers—slender and calligraphy-trained—brushing patterns of profound love against your skin.

He leans in closer, the scent of him becoming overwhelming. His voice is no longer an echo; it is deep, textured, and vibrating against you. Zenji—human, solid, and radiating a feverish warmth—breathes harshly against your skin. You can feel the sweat from his brow dampening your temple, a physical proof of his existence that makes your heart hammer against your ribs.

He discards his own clothes with a frantic, uncoordinated grace, his skin flushed and sensitive to the very air of the room. When he sits before you, completely bared, he looks as though he’s waking up from a lifelong sleep. You reach out, your fingertips barely skimming the curve of his jaw, and you let out a broken, jagged sound—part laugh, part sob. "You are real," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "You’re so beautiful..."

The sudden weight of your words has rendered him completely mute. He tries to speak, his lips parting, but his throat hitches, and only a small, shaky exhale escapes. Unable to find the language to match the miracle of your touch, he simply moves. He pulls you towards him until you are straddling his lap.

The moment your skin meets his, Zenji lets out a choked gasp. His hands fly to your waist, gripping you with a strength that is certain. He arches into you, his head falling back as he marvels at the friction, the feeling of your slick folds gliding against his length even through your panties. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his fingers spreading wide across your lower back to press you even closer, desperate to feel every inch of the contact he had been denied for so long.

Slowly, he leans down. He envelopes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue laving over the sensitive peak with a desperate hunger. The mewl you let out causes him to shudder, every moan that leaves your mouth sending shivers up his spine. He brings his hand up to fondle your other breast, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s still adjusting to the fact that he won't simply pass through you.

The sensory overload seems to overwhelm him, and he needs to see you—all of you—anchored beneath him. His hands move from your waist to your shoulders and begin to guide you backward. He handles you like the rarest of gems, until your back meets the soft fabric of the bed. He follows you down, looming over you.

Greedy for the music of your gasps, he pries your legs apart with his knee, grinding his thigh against your pussy. He perks up at the sound of your sharp intake of breath, a hum playing on his lips even as his eyes remain clouded with a desperate, human need. He breaks away from your breast, trailing wet, scorching kisses down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your panties. He pauses, looking up at you with those red, ink-dark eyes.

“May I proceed, my muse? Or is the prose too bold for the evening?”

You can barely process the words through the haze of pleasure, but you nod eagerly. Zenji’s smirk softens into something more genuine, a look of profound gratitude. Your trust is a heavy crown, but one he wears with pride.

“T-touch me, Taro… please,” you murmur, arching your hips. He crawls beside you and brings his forehead to yours, his skin burning against yours. His hand travels down, his fingers collecting your slickness before he begins to rhythmically circle your clit. You shiver, your hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans into your neck. Gone is the ghost who watched from the shadows; here is the man who finally has the hands to hold what he loves.

“More,” he breathes against your pulse. “I want to hear everything. Every sigh, every note of your undoing.”

He trails his lips down the center of your body, marking every inch of skin as if he were claiming a territory he thought was lost to time. He moves with a deliberate, agonizing slowness, his hands sliding down to the backs of your knees. He hooks your legs, guiding them upward until they rest securely over his shoulders. He settles between your thighs, face-to-face with your dripping heat. He looks starved. He watches the way your pelvis rolls instinctively, trying to meet him, and he chuckles.

“My Dear, you’re so eager!” he teases, though his own hands are trembling. He places a soft, lingering kiss on your entrance, causing you to squeal. “So sensitive… and so very much mine.”

His tongue slides out, lapping at your folds with a steady, rhythmic pressure. But he isn't content with just a taste; he needs to know every part of you is solid. His long, slender fingers reach down, prodding at your entrance before sliding deep inside you. You gasp as he hooks them, his fingers applying a firm, circular pressure to your g-spot while his tongue continues its relentless work. He isn't just tasting you; he is devouring the reality of you, those delicate fingers that once only ghosted over biwa strings are now sinking into your warmth.

When he finally pulls away, the slick sound of his fingers leaving you makes your head roll back. He moves up the bed to position himself, the mirth in his eyes has completely vanished, replaced by a staggering, raw vulnerability. He holds himself above you, his muscles taut and shaking with the effort of remaining human.

“I’m afraid,” he confesses softly, his gaze locked onto yours. “I’m afraid that if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up cold and invisible again. Hold me. Hold me so I know I’m still here.”

You don't hesitate. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a desperate, bone-crushing embrace. You hold him so tight that your heartbeats overlap. His hands clutching at your back as if he’s trying to merge his very soul with yours.

When he finally enters you, the sensation is so sharp, so present, that he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck to hide the sob that catches in his throat. He isn't just seeking pleasure; he is seeking proof of life. He buries himself to the hilt, remaining still for a long moment as his body adjusts to the overwhelming friction and heat. He grits his teeth, his fingers intertwining with yours. He begins to move—a slow, deliberate pace that hits every sensitive nerve with precision.

“You feel like… everything,” he gasps, his rhythm quickening as he loses his grip on his practiced composure. He couldn't find it in him to feel guilty when you felt so good against him. His movements are rhythmic and desperate, a man trying to write a lifetime of longing into a single night. He isn't quiet. He groans your name like a prayer, his hands clutching at the sheets or your hips as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll drift back into the ether.

He pounds into you, the squelch of your joined bodies the only sound he cares about now. He watches your eyes roll back, watches the way your body jerks under his, and it drives him over the edge.

As your climax hits, Zenji follows you instantly. He thrusts one last time, deep and desperate, emptying himself into you with a loud, broken groan. He came to the feeling of you clenching around him as your own orgasm washed over you. He collapses against you, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in jagged, sobbing hitches.

He doesn't pull away. He stays inside you, his human heart slowing down against your chest. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are wet with silent tears. He reaches out, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“I spent so long as a ghost, watching the world pass by like a story I couldn't join,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “But tonight… tonight you made me a man. I love you. More than the ink loves the page, I love you.”

You look up at him, your vision blurring as your own tears finally escape. You reach up, your hand cupping the back of his neck, pulling him down just enough so your foreheads touch.

“I love you too, Taro,” you respond, your voice quivering but certain.

A soft, broken laugh leaves him, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. He kisses you then—a soft, salty, human kiss that tastes of tears and sweat and a decade of unmade wishes.

[cwelestia]

⋆✐ MR. KUSANAGI ೀ⋆

Synopsis: In the quiet hum of the rainy night, Haku Kusanagi finds himself unexpectedly cast as a teacher in his girlfriend’s dreams.

Tags: Haku Kusanagi x Reader, Female Reader, Sappy Haku

The night was quiet enough to hear the hum of the rain outside the window, a rhythm that matched the steady sound of her breathing.

“Mr. Kusanagi…”

Haku froze mid-scroll, his phone’s light washing his face in pale blue.


Did he just hear—?

He looked over at you, curled up on his bed, face buried half into a pillow.


Your lips moved again, soft, sleepy, utterly unaware.

“…Mr. Kusanagi…”

A grin spread across his face immediately.
“Oh? Mr. Kusanagi, huh?” he whispered “Didn’t know we’d hit formal terms now.”

He leaned back, one arm draped lazily across the back of the headboard, his tone full of mock seriousness.


“So, what am I teaching in that dream of yours, Princess? Advanced flirting? Charisma 101?”

You shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and Haku pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.


“Oh no,” he whispered. “You’re too cute when you look stressed about imaginary homework.”

He tilted his head, eyes glimmering with amusement.


“Should I start bringing a briefcase to class now? Maybe wear glasses? Call you Ms. Y/N?”

You sighed, barely awake, “N-no… you’re… too close…” waving your arms in the air like you were trying to push him away in the dream.

He laughed quietly. “Aww. Even asleep, you’re so cute.”

Before you, he rarely laughed like this. The world had been still. Predictable. Boring.

But since you came into his life, everything shifted.

“Mmm…”

“I…”

“Love you…”

The words slipped from your lips like liquid, and Haku froze for a moment, heart thudding.

He smiled, softer now.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, knowing you wouldn’t hear it.

He leaned close, brushing your hair back, voice gentle against your ear.

“Do you have any idea how happy my life has become since you arrived?”

He pinched your cheek lightly, careful not to wake you.

“…Thank you,” he said, with all the sincerity he could hold.

Then, he exhaled a laugh and muttered to himself,


“When you wake up, I’m definitely asking for extra credit.” he muttered, slipping under the covers and wrapping his arms around you.

Morning After The Dream

Haku was already at his locker, casually flipping through his notes when he spotted you walking down the hall, hair messy and eyes still half-asleep.

“Good morning, Princess,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying just the right hint of teasing.

“Uh… good morning,” you mumbled, cheeks hot.

“You seemed very… attentive last night,” he said, leaning against the lockers with his usual effortless posture. “Calling my name repeatedly. Very… focused.”

Your heart stopped. “…I—I was dreaming!”

He grinned, that shameless, cocky smirk that always made it impossible to argue with him. “Oh? Dreaming of your strict, infallible teacher, lecturing you on… what? Homework? Behavior?”

“I… it’s not what it sounds like!” you sputtered.

Haku chuckled, stepping closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it our little secret… though I admit, it’s flattering.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but he just laughed, leaning back against the lockers and watching you struggle.

“Seriously, you should sleep more often. Gives me a chance to see how dedicated you are… in your dreams.”

And with a wink, he sauntered off, leaving you muttering angrily to yourself, utterly powerless against his grin.

[cwelestia]

love your username 😭💞

thank you!! i love yours, too 🥰❤️

[cwelestia]

Profile pic, please? It looks so cool!

haii, thank u!! here you go <33

Pin by Feyre on Dark in 2025 | Ethereal aesthetic dark, Profile picture, Cute profile pictures

Jun 17, 2025 - This Pin was discovered by Feyre. Discover (and save!) your own Pins on Pinterest

[cwelestia]

CALLING THEM “TOO BIG” DURING INTIMACY

Synopsis: A series of quiet confessions and unguarded moments between tall ghouls and the small human who makes them unravel.

Tags: Zenji Kotodama x Reader, Alan Mido x Reader, Jiro Kirisaki x Reader, Edward Hart x Reader, Towa Otonashi x Reader, Sho Haizono x Reader, Shiranami Ren x Reader, Size Kink, Gender Neutral MC

Zenji Kotodama

“T-Taroo… it’s too much,” you breathe out, voice trembling somewhere between laughter and tears.

For a heartbeat, he freezes. The teasing glint in his eyes falters, replaced by a flicker of worry. His usual confidence—his ghostly grace and poetic rhythm—seems to waver as he leans over you.

“…Too much?” he echoes softly, as if tasting the words. His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing away the corner of a tear. “Ah, my dear… if I’ve gone too far—”

You shake your head quickly, and his concern melts into something else entirely. His smile returns, small and helpless. The kind he saves only for you.

“You always do this to me,” he murmurs, half-laughing under his breath. “Saying something so devastatingly honest, and I forget how to breathe.”

He bows his head, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice lower now—sincere, unguarded. “I would never hurt you. Tell me when it’s too much. I’ll listen. Always.”

You nod, fingers curling in the folds of his shirt. The air hums between you, something sacred and breathless.

Zenji stays close but gentler now, every movement guided by you. His usual dramatic air fades into quiet reverence. He studies you like a living verse, his muse and masterpiece all at once.

And when you whisper his name again, small and unsteady, he laughs softly—like someone utterly ruined by love.

“Even when I try to be careful,” he says, “you still undo me.”

Alan Mido

“Alan, it’s… too big.”

The words barely make it past your lips, trembling like a secret you’re afraid to say out loud.

His whole body stills. Concern flickers instantly across his features, his usual calm replaced by quiet panic. “Wait— are you hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breath catching. “No, I just… I can’t keep up.”

His shoulders relax only slightly. The tension stays in his voice—soft, shaking. “I see. Then… I’ll slow down.”

He leans closer, the warmth of him sinking into you like a promise. “You have to tell me when it’s too much,” he murmurs, almost pleading. “You don’t ever have to pretend.”

When you nod, his hand drifts up to brush your cheek, the gentlest reassurance. His gaze stays locked on yours, as if waiting for you to breathe again before he even dares to move.

“Better?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He exhales a small, relieved laugh and presses his forehead to yours. “Good,” he murmurs.

Jiro Kirisaki

“Jiro, wait— it’s too big.”

His hands freeze mid-motion, gaze snapping to your face. The intensity in his eyes fades into worry.

“Did I… go too far?”

You shake your head, your voice barely a whisper. “No. You’re just—”

He leans in slightly, trying to read you. “Just what?”

“You. You’re overwhelming sometimes.”

A pause. Then a quiet chuckle escapes him, softer than you’ve ever heard. “That’s the first time anyone’s said that to me.”

His fingers brush your hair behind your ear, deliberate and tender. “I’ll slow down,” he says. “I don’t want to miss a single part of this.”

The way he looks at you afterward—like you’re a secret only he was ever meant to discover—makes your heart stumble all over again.

Edward Hart

“Ed— it’s too much.”

His smirk falters for the first time. That confident glint in his eyes dims, replaced by uncertainty. “Too much?”

You nod, breathless, caught somewhere between awe and exasperation. “You always push. You always—”

“Tease?” he finishes, voice quieter now.

You manage a small laugh. “Exactly.”

He leans closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Alright,” he murmurs, his tone losing its edge. “No more teasing.”

Then, a beat later, softer—“You just make it too easy to fall apart.”

When you look up at him again, he’s smiling. Not his usual smug grin—something warmer, unguarded. “Maybe I’m too much,” he admits. “But you make me want to be.”

Towa Otonashi

“Towa, stop— it’s too much!”

He freezes like you just cast a spell on him.

“Wait, what? Too much? Did I hurt you, Dandelion?!”

You burst out laughing through your breathlessness. “No, no! Just— slow down, you idiot!”

His shoulders drop in relief as he grins sheepishly. “Oh. You scared me for a second.”

“You scare me all the time,” you shoot back, half teasing.

“That’s fair,” he admits, rubbing the side of your cheek. Then, quieter: “I don’t ever want to actually scare you, though.”

He crouches so you’re eye-level, voice softer than you’ve ever heard. “If it’s too much, tell me. I’ll listen. I swear.”

You nudge his chest lightly, smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says with a grin that could light up the room.

Shohei Haizono

“Sho, it’s— it’s too much.”

He stops instantly. Like someone just pulled the plug on his brain. “Wh—what did I do? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “No, you’re just— too much. Big. Warm. Everything.”

He blinks, then flushes deep red. “I—uh—sorry?”

You giggle. “Don’t apologize, dummy.”

His hands fidget awkwardly before settling gently on your shoulders. “Okay, but… I can tone it down, if you want.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

He stares for a moment, completely still, then lets out a nervous laugh that sounds a little like relief. “Good. Because I don’t think I could anyway.”

You grin up at him. “You really are too much.”

“Yeah,” he says, bashful smile tugging at his lips. “But I’m yours, so it balances out.”

Ren Shiranami

“Ren… it’s too big.”

He scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes.

“What, me? Don’t be dramatic.”

You give him a look. “I’m serious.”

The sarcasm dies on his tongue. He studies you—really studies you—for a moment, then sighs. “Okay. Maybe I got carried away.”

He looks away, muttering under his breath, “You just make it really hard to stay calm, you know?”

You smile, leaning against him. “That’s a compliment, right?”

He grumbles something unintelligible, but his arm finds its way around you anyway. “Whatever. Just tell me next time before I freak out.”

You laugh softly. “Deal.”

Under his breath, barely audible, he adds, “You’re lucky you’re cute when you say things like that.

[cwelestia]

゛THE SHOCKING OPPOSITE ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

𑣲 Context: You tell leo your ideal type (only to realize he’s the complete opposite) so hoes mad😝

𑣲 Tags: Leo Kurosagi x Reader, Enemies to Lovers obviously, Tension, Confession of Feelings

𑣲 Notes: You and Leo are stuck with a case late at night—a rare moment of neutral truce. To fill the silence, you mention an old movie you love, which somehow prompts him to snidely ask about your "ideal partner" to prove his superiority in judging character.

Leo was sprawled across two of the rickety Vagastrom chairs, his feet propped up on your working surface, humming a tune from his expensive headphones. His presence was an immediate drain on your concentration, which was probably his intent.

"So dull," he yawned dramatically, stretching like a cat. "This whole ghoul rumor is a structural integrity issue, not a curse. Honestly, you should be able to deduce that much. Are you even listening, or are you too busy mentally composing your next passive-aggressive retort?"

"I'm listening, Kurosagi," you said, not looking up. "Just prioritizing the actual case facts over your incessant commentary. Go back to your follower count.

"Feisty, aren't we?" He smirked, the yellow in his eyes glinting. "Fine. Let's talk about something more interesting. Since you apparently have such flawless taste in everything but people—who’s your ideal type? Give me the profile. I'll tell you how you’re going to end up disappointed."

You finally looked up, setting your pen down. This was a classic Leo trap: bait you with a personal question so he could immediately tear your answer apart and feel superior. But you were too tired to care.

"You really want to know?"

"Indulge me," he drawled, pushing off the chair to walk over to the small kitchen area, pulling out a soda. He was listening, though—always listening.

You leaned back, letting the genuine image form in your head, speaking slowly, almost dreamily.

"My ideal type? They’d be... steady," you started. "Someone really grounded. You know, reliable. The kind of person who is quiet but actually listens. Someone who genuinely finds joy in the uncomplicated things."

Leo paused mid-sip, his eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't comment yet. You pressed on, enjoying the moment of pure, honest description.

"They'd be humble, almost annoyingly so. Definitely not the type to seek the spotlight or make a huge fuss. They’d be the guy who fixes things, who makes you feel safe, who puts his energy into actions instead of—" you paused, giving him a pointed glance, "—into performance."

He took another, slow sip of his soda, his jaw tightening just slightly.

"And they'd have to be patient," you concluded, a small, genuine smile curving your lips. "Incredibly patient. Because I’m a mess, and I’d need someone who is fine with quiet, consistent reliability. Someone who never, ever makes me feel like I’m a burden or a 'problem' to be solved."

You finished, feeling lighter. Leo just stared at you from across the room. The silence was thick, heavier than his usual sarcasm.

Finally, he set the soda can down on the counter with a loud clink.

"Are you done with your little delusion?" he sneered, the smirk back, but it felt forced, strained. His cynical, confident mask was suddenly too rigid.

"Why? Does my taste offend your highly refined palate?" you asked sweetly.

He walked back, his expensive shoes tapping precisely on the floor. He stopped right in front of your desk, leaning down until his scruffy gray hair almost brushed your own.

"It doesn't offend me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "It bores me. 'Quiet, humble, patient, reliable'? Are you trying to date a golden retriever, or a sixty-year-old librarian? That sounds like the most tedious, beige, utterly forgettable existence a person could imagine."

"It sounds like peace," you countered, holding his gaze. "Something you wouldn't understand."

He slammed his hands on your desk, making the entire thing shake. His yellow eyes were intense, burning with a mix of fury and something wounded.

"Oh, I understand 'peace,' all right," he spat. "It’s the silence that happens when everyone leaves. You think you want 'humble'? You think you want 'quiet'? That's a pathetic lie. You crave chaos! You like being challenged! You like it when someone actually sees you, not just your little, fragile idea of 'safety'!"

He ripped his headphones from around his neck and threw them onto the floor with a muffled thump. The sudden gesture was so raw, so unscripted, it shocked you.

"You think I'm a mess? You're a bigger disaster than I am, but you need someone who can actually keep up!" he practically hissed, leaning closer, his breath hot on your ear. "You need someone who isn't afraid to call you out on your stupid mistakes, because that's the only time you ever actually look at them!"

His voice was laced with a venom that didn't hide the obvious conclusion. He was screaming that he was the only one who could handle your chaos. He was screaming that he was the one who saw you.

"Are you jealous, Kurosagi?" you whispered, a sudden, dangerous realization flooding you.

His whole body stiffened. He pulled back, his face a mask of furious denial, but his eyes betrayed him. The confidence was gone, replaced by a deep-seated vulnerability—the fear that he truly was everything you didn't want.

He straightened up, smoothing his uniform jacket with a frantic hand. "Jealous? Of your imaginary, boring man? Please. I'm just pointing out that your taste is catastrophically bad. You're welcome for the free life advice.

He turned to walk away, but stopped at the door, his hand gripping the frame. He didn't look back.

"Don't worry," he muttered, the words barely audible. "I won't let you settle for a coward who is too 'humble' to actually have you."

He didn't wait for a response, slamming the door shut. But the silence he left behind wasn't peaceful. It was crackling with the violent, chaotic energy of a self-proclaimed 'devil' who had just realized his crush wants an angel—and had decided, on the spot, that he would simply force you to change your mind.

[cwelestia]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆SEVEN’S PAGE⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

◠◠ 19 ◠◠ any pronouns ◠◠ nsfw + sfw ◠◠

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! 𐃯