#affectionate reader

“I love how your brain works,” you said, the words spilling out easily, honestly.

He chuckled again, this time with a hint of curiosity. He leaned back into you and tilted his head slightly, trying to catch your eyes even though you were behind him. “What does that mean?” he asked. “That sounds suspiciously deep.”

You smiled and tightened your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I mean it,” you said. “You’re so creative. The way you play with words, how you turn feelings into something real. It’s amazing to watch.”

He froze.

Not completely, but enough that you noticed the change immediately. His shoulders stiffened, and the tips of his ears turned pink almost on cue. You felt him swallow, then laugh under his breath, flustered and a little disbelieving.

“You’re exaggerating,” he said, though his voice lacked any real conviction. “I’m just… working.”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “You always say that,” you replied. “But it’s true. You make things out of nothing. You make people feel things.”

The blush spread fast, creeping down his neck, blooming across his cheeks. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit you knew too well. “You’re really trying to embarrass me today,” he murmured.

You giggled, delighted, and leaned in closer. Before he could say anything else, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just below his ear. He inhaled sharply, a quiet sound that made you smile even wider.

“Yah,” he protested weakly, laughter tangled with shyness. “Don’t do that when you say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” you teased, kissing his neck again, slower this time. “I like seeing you like this.”

He groaned softly and dropped his face into his hands, elbows braced on the desk as if that might somehow hide him from you. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though there was a smile in his voice. “How am I supposed to work now?”

You hugged him tighter, resting against him as his blush refused to fade. “Take a break,” you said gently. “Your genius brain deserves it.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, eyes bright and a little shy, cheeks still burning red. “You’re dangerous,” he told you, smiling anyway, completely undone and secretly loving every second of it.

⪩⪨Seonghwa⪩⪨

He lay stretched out on the couch, head resting comfortably in your lap, one arm draped loosely over his stomach. The room was quiet and unhurried, the kind of calm that only appeared when neither of you had anywhere else to be. You absentmindedly played with his hair, fingers lightly scratching his scalp, combing through dark strands that caught the light whenever he shifted.

He let out a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying the attention. You traced gentle patterns through his hair, tugging just enough to feel him relax further. For a while, neither of you spoke. The moment felt delicate, like it might shatter if disturbed.

Then you stopped.

Instead of the familiar rhythm, your fingers slowed, sliding carefully through his hair from root to tip. He noticed immediately. His eyes opened, and he tilted his head slightly, glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and curious.

You smiled down at him, thumb brushing along his temple. “I was just thinking,” you said softly. “You have really beautiful hair.”

He laughed, short and surprised, turning his face away as if you’d caught him off guard. “Beautiful?” he repeated, amused. “You’re saying strange things again.”

You didn’t let it go. You ran your fingers through his hair once more, slower this time, deliberate. “I mean it,” you said. “It’s soft. And it suits you. You’re beautiful.”

He turned around then, shifting so he was facing you, propping himself up on one elbow. The smile on his face was small but unmistakable, and you could see the faint color creeping into his cheeks. “You really shouldn’t say things like that so easily,” he said, trying and failing to sound serious. “You’re making me blush.”

You grinned, delighted. “That’s the point.”

He clicked his tongue softly and shook his head, though his smile only grew. “You’re impossible,” he said, reaching up to gently flick your forehead. “You know that?”

You leaned closer, unfazed. “And you’re still beautiful,” you added. “Your eyes, your smile, everything.”

He inhaled, visibly flustered now, eyes darting away before returning to yours. “Enough,” he scolded lightly, voice warm despite the words. “If you keep going, I—”

You cut him off by saying his name sweetly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? You’ll what?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he reached out and pulled you closer by the waist, closing the distance between you in one smooth motion. His lips met yours in a kiss meant to silence you, firm but affectionate. You laughed into it, hands instinctively moving to his shoulders.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, you smiled. “That won’t work,” you teased. “You’re still beautiful.”

His jaw tightened, a playful challenge flashing in his eyes. “You asked for this,” he murmured, before kissing you again, deeper this time, more insistent. His hands slid up your back, holding you close as if daring you to say another word.

You did anyway, murmuring compliments between kisses, laughing softly as he responded with more intensity, clearly determined to shut you up properly. Soon, words became unnecessary, replaced by shared smiles, lingering kisses, and the quiet heat between you as the world narrowed down to just the two of you tangled together on the couch.

⪩⪨Yunho⪩⪨

He stood in front of the mirror, shoulders squared, fixing the collar of his shirt with careful hands. The room smelled faintly of cologne and fabric spray, the kind of clean, warm scent that meant he was almost ready. You walked past him without thinking, then stopped so suddenly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“…Wait.”

He looked up at your reflection in the mirror, immediately grinning when he saw the way your nose scrunched slightly. “What?” he asked, already amused. “Did I forget something?”

You stepped closer instead of answering, head tilting as you took another breath. “You smell really good,” you said, honest and a little distracted.

His grin widened, pleased. “Ah, that?” He straightened a bit, clearly proud. “I tried a new perfume today. I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”

He turned toward you fully, hands resting on his hips. “Do you like it?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, pressing yourself lightly against his chest. Before he could react, you leaned in and buried your face against his neck, breathing him in slowly and deliberately.

He burst into laughter, hands coming up instinctively to steady you. “Hey, hey,” he said between laughs. “That’s not a yes or no.”

“It’s a very clear yes,” you replied, voice muffled against his skin.

He shook his head, still smiling, cheeks already starting to pink. “I really have to get ready,” he said, though his hands lingered at your waist. “We’re going to be late.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes bright. “I don’t care,” you said. “You smell amazing. And you look incredible.”

That did it. The blush spread fast, crawling up his neck and settling deep in his cheeks. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused lightly, laughing again as you wrapped your arms around him. You hugged him tight, pressing your face back into his neck, clearly enjoying how warm he was getting.

“Maybe,” you said sweetly.

“Seriously,” he warned, trying and failing to sound stern. “If you keep this up, I’m not going to be ready on time.”

You hummed in response, fingers sliding to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, you started undoing them, each soft click making his breath hitch. You kissed the newly exposed skin, murmuring compliments as you went, telling him how good he looked, how good he smelled, how unfair it was that he could stand there looking like that.

“Yah,” he said, voice lower now, laughter replaced by something more strained. “You’re not listening.”

You kissed his collarbone. “I am,” you said. “I just don’t care.”

That was the moment he snapped. With a quiet laugh that sounded more breathless than amused, he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he pressed you back against the wall, lips finding yours in a kiss that stole the teasing right out of you.

“Now you’re definitely the problem,” he murmured against your lips, still smiling, still blushing, but completely done pretending he was unaffected.

You laughed softly into the kiss, arms tightening around his neck as he kissed you again, deeper this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was running out of time. Right then, though, he didn’t seem to care at all.

⪩⪨Yeosang⪩⪨

He barely made it two steps through the door before dropping his gym bag and calling out, voice a little louder than usual. “I’m home. I’m going to jump into the shower real quick.”

You looked up from the couch and nodded, barely registering the words before he disappeared down the hallway. You went back to your phone, scrolling mindlessly, the apartment settling back into its familiar quiet. Water started running a few moments later, muffled through the walls, and you smiled to yourself. He had been busy lately. So had you. It felt like the two of you had been orbiting the same space without really colliding.

When he finally came back, you didn’t hear him at first. You only noticed when the couch dipped beside you.

You glanced up and nearly dropped your phone.

He was wearing a black tank top that clung to him in a way that felt borderline illegal. His arms looked broader, shoulders fuller, muscles still faintly tense from his workout. His hair was damp, a few strands falling into his eyes, and he looked relaxed in that post-gym way that made him glow without trying.

“…Wow,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He blinked, then laughed softly. “What?”

You stared at him openly now, phone forgotten. “How much have you been working out lately?”

A grin tugged at his lips, shy but proud, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks. “Not that much,” he said quickly, then corrected himself. “Okay, maybe more. I started lifting heavier weights.”

You made a small sound of acknowledgment that was really just appreciation. Before he could react, you shifted closer and climbed into his lap, legs folding around his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, hands automatically settling at your waist. “What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

You leaned back slightly so you could look at him. “I was thinking,” you said, lightly tracing your fingers along his arm. “We haven’t had much quality time together lately.”

He sighed, a real one, head tilting back against the couch. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re right.”

Your fingers pressed gently into his arm, feeling the muscle beneath your touch. “And you look so good,” you added, quietly but firmly.

He looked away immediately, ears turning red. “You don’t have to say that,” he muttered.

You smiled, both fond and a little smug, and touched his arm again, slower this time. “I do,” you said. “Because it’s true.”

He swallowed, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, clearly embarrassed. You reached up and gently turned his face back toward you, thumb brushing his jaw until his eyes met yours.

“I missed you,” you said softly.

That finally broke through his shyness. He smiled, warm and genuine, eyes crinkling slightly. “I missed you too,” he replied.

Then he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was deep, sure, full of everything you hadn’t said out loud. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you closer as if he wanted to make up for lost time all at once. You melted into it, fingers sliding into his damp hair, smiling against his lips.

For a while, the world shrank down to the couch, his warmth, and the quiet reminder that you were still each other’s favorite place to land.

⪩⪨San⪩⪨

The laptop balanced comfortably on his thighs, the glow of the screen painting the room in soft blues and whites. You leaned against his shoulder, head tucked just beneath his chin, scrolling through pictures of beaches, mountains, little cafés tucked into quiet streets. His arm rested loosely around you, thumb occasionally brushing your arm without either of you really noticing.

“What about this one?” you asked, pointing at the screen. “It says the food is amazing, but everyone complains about the stairs.”

He snorted before he could stop himself, a bright, unguarded laugh that bubbled out of him. It startled you just enough to make you lift your head, turning to look at him.

You smiled instantly. “I love your laugh.”

He froze for half a second, then laughed again, softer this time, trying to brush it off. “You have to stop saying things like that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to have a reputation, you know. Sexy. Charismatic. Intimidating.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “You do.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting a tease.

“But with me,” you continued, shifting so you were facing him more fully, “you’re just San. And I love you the most like that.”

That did it.

He turned his head away, suddenly very interested in the far corner of the room. You could see the blush creeping up his neck, blooming across his cheeks despite his best efforts to stay composed. He cleared his throat and smiled to himself before finally looking back at you.

“You’re very charming today,” he said, voice low and fond. “Do you know that?”

You shrugged, pretending it was no big deal, but your smile gave you away. “Just telling the truth.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes warm, something soft settling into his expression. The laptop sat forgotten between you now, its open tabs still full of destinations you hadn’t chosen yet. Slowly, he leaned in, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

He kissed you gently at first, like he was savoring the moment, like there was nowhere else he needed to be. When you leaned into it, smiling against his lips, he let out a quiet laugh and pulled back just enough to reach for the laptop.

“You know what,” he said, clicking it shut decisively, “this can wait.”

You laughed as he set it aside, barely having time to react before he shifted closer, pulling you into his lap. His forehead rested against yours for a second, his nose brushing yours as he smiled.

“I think I need to take care of this first” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He didn’t answer with words. He kissed you again, deeper this time, hands steady and sure as they held you close. The world outside the couch faded away, holiday plans forgotten in favor of the quiet warmth between you. Right then, he wasn’t thinking about reputations or images.

He was just San. And he was exactly where he wanted to be.

⪩⪨Mingi⪩⪨

The screen glowed softly in front of you as rows of movie thumbnails slid past. Mingi held the remote, legs stretched out, voice filling the room as he read descriptions out loud with exaggerated seriousness.

“A retired hitman is pulled back into his old life after—” he paused, squinting. “Okay, that one sounds stressful.”

You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder as he scrolled. He kept reading, voice low and smooth, every word rolling out effortlessly. You barely paid attention to what he was saying. You were too busy listening to how he said it.

“What do you think?” he asked, finally glancing down at you.

You didn’t even look at the screen. “I think I could listen to your voice all day.”

He blinked. “What?”

You lifted your head, smiling innocently. “Your voice,” you clarified. “It’s really sexy. That deep tone. I always melt a little when you talk.”

The remote slipped slightly in his hand. He laughed, startled, loud and flustered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yah, don’t say things like that so casually,” he warned, cheeks already turning red. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You shifted closer, knees brushing his thigh, body angled toward him now. “You could keep talking,” you said lightly. “I like it.”

He let out another laugh, this one higher, clearly embarrassed, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “Look at you,” he muttered. “You’re such a freak.”

You nodded without hesitation, completely serious. “Yeah. I’m your freak.”

That finally made him look at you.

His blush deepened, but a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, confidence creeping back in. He reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap.

“Is that so?” he asked, voice dropping even lower on purpose now.

You swallowed, smiling.

He leaned in and kissed you, warm and teasing at first, then a little deeper when you leaned into it. His hand stayed firm at your waist, thumb pressing into your side like he was grounding himself. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You know,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “we don’t actually have to watch a movie.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No?”

He chuckled softly, that same deep laugh that had started all of this, and kissed your jaw slowly. “I can entertain you in a different way,” he whispered.

The remote lay forgotten on the couch, the movie menu still looping quietly as he pulled you closer, clearly done pretending he wasn’t affected by every word you’d said.

⪩⪨Wooyoung⪩⪨

He sat on the bathroom counter, legs slightly spread, hands resting obediently on his thighs like he had been instructed not to move. You perched on his lap facing him, knees bracketing his hips, close enough that he could feel your warmth even through layers of fabric. The soft light reflected off the mirror, and the faint scent of cleanser and cream filled the air.

“You’re being very cooperative,” you said, smiling as you dipped your fingers into the bowl of face mask.

“That’s because you’re doing it,” he replied easily, eyes already half-lidded as you touched his skin. “I trust you.”

You were gentle, spreading the mask carefully over his cheeks, smoothing it along his jaw, brushing close to his lips without touching them. He sighed quietly, leaning into your hands without even realizing it. Every touch made his shoulders loosen, his usual restless energy replaced by something calm and pliant.

You traced the bridge of his nose with your finger, slower now, more deliberate. “You know,” you said softly, “I really love your nose.”

He opened one eye and let out a short laugh. “My nose?” he repeated. “It’s huge.”

You shook your head immediately, frowning at him like he had said something ridiculous. “It’s not,” you said. “It’s beautiful. It suits you. Just like the rest of you.”

That wiped the grin off his face in an instant. He laughed again, but this time it was higher, nervous, his ears turning red as he looked away. “You’re saying weird things today,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You smiled wider, enjoying it far too much. “Am I making you nervous?” you teased.

He answered by pinching your sides gently, fingers sneaking under your shirt just enough to make you squeak. You laughed, instinctively leaning forward, hands bracing on his shoulders as you tried to squirm away.

“Hey,” you protested between giggles.

“That’s what you get,” he said smugly, though his blush hadn’t faded at all.

You leaned in before he could do it again and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, careful not to smudge the mask. “It’s beautiful,” you repeated.

He went very still.

His lips parted slightly, then pressed together as he bit down on the lower one, eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looked completely unsure of himself, caught somewhere between flustered and flattered. Then he nodded toward the shower with a hopeful tilt of his head.

“Maybe we should rinse this off early,” he suggested lightly.

You gasped in mock offense. “Absolutely not,” you scolded. “It takes fifteen minutes to work.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically, head tipping back until it lightly touched the mirror. “Those are going to be the hardest fifteen minutes of my life,” he declared.

You laughed, smoothing the last bit of mask along his cheek and patting it gently into place. “Then behave,” you said. “And maybe I’ll compliment you some more.”

He peeked at you again, trying and failing to hide his smile. “You’re evil,” he said fondly.

You stayed there with him, legs still around his waist, hands resting on his shoulders as the timer started. And for someone who complained so much, he didn’t try to escape even once.

⪩⪨Jongho⪩⪨

You stood at the counter, wooden spoon abandoned, both hands wrapped stubbornly around a jar that clearly did not respect you. You twisted once. Nothing. Again. Still nothing.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, bracing it against your hip and trying harder. The lid refused to budge. “Why don't you just....ngh...open.”

A quiet chuckle sounded behind you.

Before you could turn around, Jongho strolled over like he had all the time in the world. He leaned against the counter beside you, eyes flicking briefly to the jar and then back to your face. There was a smug glint in his eyes already.

“Need help?” he asked casually.

You scoffed. “I’ve got it.”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he reached out, gently took the jar from your hands, and twisted the lid open in one smooth motion. The soft pop echoed in the kitchen. He didn’t break eye contact once.

You stared at him for a second, then laughed. “Wow. I’d be completely lost without your ridiculous strength.”

He grinned, clearly pleased, but shook his head. “You’d be fine,” he said easily. “You’re strong and independent. You don’t need me for that.”

You smiled, setting the jar aside, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I know,” you said warmly. “I can handle things on my own. But I’m still really lucky to have you.”

That wiped the grin right off his face.

A faint blush crept up his cheeks, and he cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the countertop. “You’re embarrassing me,” he murmured. “I can't get flustered over something like that.”

You didn’t hesitate. You reached up, cupped his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed. It was deep and certain, the kind of kiss that left no room for second thoughts. He froze for half a heartbeat, then melted into it, hands settling at your waist as he smiled softly against your lips.

“You don’t look embarrassed,” you murmured when you pulled back just enough to breathe.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Before you could say anything else, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You yelped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he straightened.

“Jongho,” you laughed, surprised.

He smiled down at you, eyes warm, blush still lingering. “You said you’re lucky to have me,” he said simply. “I’m taking advantage of that.”

He carried you out of the kitchen and down the hall, steady and unhurried, like you weighed nothing at all. You rested your forehead against his shoulder, smiling to yourself, feeling safe and cherished all at once.

Then: a laugh.

Then: "Yo! Babe! I brought grilled fruit and an injured salamander! In that order."

He lands just a few feet away, Cacucu fluttering beside him and announcing their arrival like some proud herald.

Ifa’s mint-white hair is wind-blown, his medical kit slung over one shoulder, and his usual grin stretching wide across his face. He’s already talking fast—explaining how some poor creature got tangled in a mining net—but you can’t quite focus on the words because he’s here, and it’s been a week since you last saw him.

You walk straight up to him mid-sentence, cup his face, and lean in for a long, relieved kiss.

He startles just a little—just enough to make Cacucu squeal in fake horror—but then melts into it, grinning under your lips. When you pull away, your hands still on his cheeks, he whistles.

“Dang, dude. Was that the ‘hi, I missed you’ special?” he chuckles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Because that hit harder than a glider crash.”

You pepper kisses all over his face—his scar, his cheeks, the spot between his brows that always furrow when he’s worried. He just lets you, a little breathless and goofy.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs when you press your forehead to his. “Seriously. I do not deserve all this pampering.”

“You heal half the continent. I think you’ve earned a few kisses,” you say, hugging him tight.

He laughs again, tucking his face into your shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

“Bro, I’m never leaving if this is what I come home to.”

He doesn’t say much, but you’ve learned to read the language of his silences.

Tonight, he's perched near the cliffside outside his cabin, arms loosely wrapped around his knees, one wing lazily stretched in the moonlight. You approach quietly, stepping into the soft rustle of night wind, and without a word, sit beside him.

Ororon tilts his head toward you.

“I named this rock Ythili,” he says after a moment. “It listens without interruption.”

You smile and scoot closer, your shoulder brushing his. “Should I be jealous of a rock?”

He lets out a breath—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “You surpass Ythili,” he says simply. “You give warmth.”

Without hesitation, you lean over and press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. Then his cheek. Then the strange, dark blue marking beneath his eye. His body stiffens for a moment—he always does—but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in just slightly.

You cradle his face with both hands, brushing your thumbs over his skin like he might fade if you didn’t hold him tight enough. You kiss his nose. His forehead. His temple. Every inch you can reach, you offer up as if trying to anchor him to the moment.

“…You’ve made the air hum,” he whispers. “Like a song I can’t remember.”

You curl into his side, and one of his wings slowly, hesitantly, wraps around you.

“I don’t understand why you do this,” he murmurs.

“Because I love you,” you say, pressing one more kiss to his shoulder. “Even when you're quiet. Even when you don’t know what to say.”

“…Then I will learn,” Ororon says, “how to kiss you back like the stars would, if they could reach.”

Kinich is not a man of unnecessary gestures.

So when you sit across from him at the fire, inching closer with that familiar look in your eyes, he gives you a cautious glance.

“You’re in my space,” he says flatly.

“I’m always in your space,” you say with a grin, already leaning into him.

He makes a quiet grunt of agreement. Doesn’t move away. Instead, he continues sharpening his blade, even as you rest your head against his shoulder.

You kiss his neck—once. Then again. Then trail up to his jaw.

“…You know I’m not one of your stray foxes,” he mutters, the faintest flush rising beneath his tan skin. “I don’t need to be fussed over.”

“You say that,” you murmur, hand sliding into his, “but you lean in every time.”

He pauses, as if caught. Then: “That's because I know you’ll just follow if I lean away.”

You laugh and press more kisses across the bridge of his shoulder. You feel his muscles tense slightly—but he never pulls away. You wrap your arms around him from behind, now fully draped over him like a blanket, and he sighs through his nose.

“You’re persistent,” he mutters.

“You’re warm,” you whisper back.

Kinich closes his eyes. For a moment, he’s just still. Then his free hand—rough, calloused, precise—reaches up and touches your fingers, lacing them with his.

“…I don’t deserve this,” he says, barely audible.

“You don’t have to deserve it,” you answer. “You just have to let me love you.”

He doesn’t reply. But he doesn’t pull away either.

That night, under the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the jungle, Kinich kisses your wrist once—silent and purposeful—and holds your hand until sleep comes.

☆ Katsuki isn’t one for physical affection, or physical contact in general. He has a prominent dislike for it and only lets select people get close to him. Even then he still didn’t allow much.

☆ Then you came along, you and your touchy-feelyness. He expected himself to hate it when you first hugged him. But it was surprisingly nice coming from you. He found himself not minding it all that much.

☆ He lets you practically latch onto him whenever you want. Which came as a shock to everyone else. They wondered if you had cast some sort of spell on him, some even questioned if he had a crush on you. But he was quick to shut down any rumors like that.

☆ Of course there were times he would push you away. He didn’t want himself going soft or anything. Hey, don’t you dare give him those stupid sad eyes! Quit looking at him like that, he’s not just going to give into you. (He is, he’s just too stubborn to admit it.)

☆ Katsuki wouldn’t be the one to initiate anything that’s for sure. But he would definitely offer it if he noticed you were upset. Silently just opening his arms and letting you hug him if needed.

☆ If he sees you giving anyone the same attention as him he would be pissed. Giving that person a death stare from across the room. Until he gets that person alone and threatens them for even thinking they can just touch you. Before going out and glueing himself to your side and grumbling about how only he can get that sort of attention from you.

Serving: Sanctuary for the Staff

🟣 Sam: The Magic of a Moment

The Mystery Shop was finally quiet. The last student had haggled for a potion and left, the bell above the door chiming its final note for the night.

Sam let out a long breath, stretching his arms over his head, his shadow stretching and dancing along the walls with a life of its own. He adjusted his hat, ready to begin the arduous task of inventory, when he felt a sudden warmth wrap around his waist.

It was you. You had slipped out from the back room, burying your face between his shoulder blades, your arms holding him tight.

"Well now," Sam chuckled, his voice dropping from his high-energy salesman pitch to a low, smooth melody meant only for you. "What’s this? A little imp trying to steal my merchandise? Or just trying to steal my attention?"

"Just you, Sam," you mumbled into his coat. "You worked hard today."

Sam turned in your arms with practiced ease, his movements fluid as water. He looked down at you, his violet eyes softening, the usual mischievous glint replaced by genuine affection. He loved your affection. He thrived on it. In a world of deals, trades, and shadows, your love was the only thing he got for free, and it was the most valuable thing he owned.

"You know just how to recharge my batteries," he grinned, tilting his hat back so he could see you better. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned into your touch, his hands finding your waist. "Inventory can wait. The shadows can wait. Right now, I think I have a very important customer who needs my undivided attention."

He lifted you easily, spinning you around once—just to hear you laugh—before setting you down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"So, my little imp," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. "How about we close up shop and you show me just how much you missed me? I'm willing to make a deal... your affection for my cooking tonight. Sound fair?"

🐶 Divus Crewel: The Perfect Fit

The laboratory smelled of chemicals and expensive cologne. Divus Crewel was seated at his desk, a red pen in hand, aggressively grading a stack of dismal alchemy reports. His brow was furrowed, his shoulders tense under his heavy fur coat.

"Bad dogs," he muttered, slashing a line through a paragraph. "Complete lack of discipline."

He didn't hear you approach until he felt your hands on his shoulders. He tensed instinctively, ready to snap at a student, but relaxed the moment he recognized your scent—something soft, floral, and distinctly not burnt herbs.

You began to massage his shoulders, your thumbs working out the knots of tension. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there.

"You're frowning, Divus," you whispered. "You'll get wrinkles."

Crewel sighed, dropping the pen. He leaned back into your touch, his eyes closing. He would never admit it to the student body, but he was a man who craved touch. He needed the softness to balance his sharp edges.

"If I get wrinkles, it is entirely the fault of these puppies and their inability to distinguish between aconite and wolfsbane," he grumbled, though there was no heat in his voice.

He reached up, his gloved hand capturing yours, pulling it from his shoulder to his lips. He kissed your palm, his gray eyes opening to look at you with a possessive, heavy gaze.

"However," he purred, turning his chair to face you. He pulled you between his knees, his riding crop tapping gently against his own leg. "You are being a very good pup. Attentive. Loyal. Affectionate."

He reached up, cupping your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"I suppose I can take a break from training the pack," he murmured, pulling you down for a proper, searing kiss. "To reward my favorite. Just don't wrinkle my coat, darling. Or I'll have to teach you a lesson."

🐈 Mozus Trein: The Quiet Evening

The library of the Trein estate was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock and the crackle of the fireplace. Mozus Trein sat in his armchair, a book of history open on his lap, though his eyes were closed. Lucius was asleep on his knees, a purring ball of fur.

Trein was tired. The years were long, and the students were loud. He often felt the weight of his age in the evenings.

Then, you were there. You didn't speak; you knew he valued the quiet. You simply sat on the rug beside his chair, leaning your head against his leg, careful not to disturb Lucius. You rested your hand on his knee, a silent, steady pressure of support.

Trein opened his eyes. He looked down at you, his expression softening into something profoundly gentle. He didn't move his leg; he didn't want to break the connection.

He placed his hand over yours, his fingers weathering and warm.

"A long day, Mozus?" you asked softly, looking up at him.

"Indeed," he sighed, the stern mask of the disciplinarian melting away to reveal just a man. "But it is... significantly better now."

He watched you reach up to scratch Lucius behind the ears, eliciting a louder purr from the cat. Trein smiled—a rare, small thing. He loved that you loved his cat. He loved that you didn't demand his energy, but simply offered yours.

"Come," he said softly, shifting slightly. "The floor is drafty. There is room here."

It was a tight fit, but he pulled you onto the arm of the wide chair, wrapping his arm around you to keep you steady. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of old paper and tea.

"You spoil me," he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. "An old man doesn't deserve such warmth."

"You deserve everything," you replied.

Trein closed his eyes again, holding you and Lucius close—his two most precious treasures. "Perhaps," he whispered. "For tonight, I shall simply be grateful."

A "dish" prepared with maturity, elegance, and deep, abiding comfort! The kitchen is honored to have served the staff for you, patron.

We do hope this Manager's Specialty Pasta was to your satisfaction!

Alot of readers, even the characters inside the anime would say "why nendo??" but i understand you. Nobody loves Nendo like Nendo lovers (prolly cuz we're dumbasses but shh)

At first nobody believed Nendo could have a girlfriend who's willingly in love with him. Not even Saiki could believe it.

Except it's true. Except you hug his arm while walking to his class with the happiest smile imaginable, except your eyes are actually twinkling like you're holding into your prince in shining armour.

Saiki still can't believe it. Even if he used his powers to check if you're not forced or not. Hell- the relationship is build on love?? Kaido almost had to excuse himself to the bathroom because he needs to vomit. Yup. That's how surprised he is.

But neither of you or Nendo really care. You're busy giving him multiple kisses in the same second on the forehead.. While he's trying to count them.

Nendo's stupidity is an immune system, but it comes in your way. Since he isn't embarrassed when you go all over him in public, instead laughing loudly like it's peak performance. He even flexes the fact he's getting kissed and stuff!

“Yo, Saiki! My girl just kissed me and made md lunch, ain't that cute of her??”

“please stop narrating your relationship. I still can't comprehend the fact she chose you willingly.”

Love love loves it when you hug his arm in public while walking, he'd be proud and quite prideful. Chest puffed up and chin(s...?) held high.

Some(most of)times he takes you out to eat ramen and also your favourite snack, i can imagine you two playing chase in the park, you giggling like your boyfriend doesn't have the expression of a focused serial killer as he rushes over to get you. Someone thought he was actually a criminal trying to capture you in daylight and the police was called.

We could call Saiki his wingman, why? Because you're greatly helping our psychic by being Nendo's girlfriend! You cling to Nendo sometimes, which gives Saiki enough time to run away or disappear from his 'best friend's sight.

And with how much Nendo spends time with you, 'excusing it' as boyfriend's duties (legit nobody asked), you give Saiki time to relax and chill down without being jumpscared of two ball sacks-like-chin on his face everytime he turns around. He WON'T. Let your relationship fail or let it break.

“ah man, i forgot about my girl's birthday party! I even forgot to get a gift! I promised her somethin' nice-”

“oh, no you're not. You're not doing that.”

*Saiki proceeds to freeze time, teleport, buy a gift that's definitely your taste, teleports back and puts the gift on Nendo's desk. And unfreezes time*

“your gift is right there. You're gonna be late.”

“oh! I bought that? Hm, I sure damn am a perfect boyfriend! Gotta go, bud!”

“I'd prefer to call myself that, but you're not doing that bad...Which is weird on it's own.”

Overall, you have a dumb big boyfriend who actually loves you ...Just please don't accept the flowers he offers, they have roaches there. Yes, not bees. roaches.

>> #Author's note ::

"i enjoyed writing this one sm! I even wrote it in one day, like, it was so much fun! Hope you like it <3"

# KURO✦OUT—