#inquiries.

0. SUITORS

"Label:" Name | Prns. Short bio. | #tag

1. SYNPOSIS

This is an X. Reader blog with a focus on Light Yandere, Characterized Y/Ns, and Harder-to-Find Tropes.

The theming is just for aesthetics! Though, I am thinking of making a "canonical timeline" where the masquerade ball is a general setting.

I typically write Male Suitors, but I'll definitely shake things up every now and then. As for Y/Ns, I'll try to keep things gender-neutral.

This is a SFW blog. If any NSFW accounts interact, please be cautious and have a SFW pfp/username!

2. GUIDELINES

No NSFW requests or comments. Please keep simping appropriate and have class in my court! If you are unsure of whether or not a comment is "too far," just ask me, or find some way to soften it.

Absolutely no Ai. Do not feed my work into Ai, do not expect me to use Ai, and do not ask for Ai chat-bots!!! Only authentic craziness here, babeyyy.

While I may dabble in some Yandere Suitors, I will stray as far as I can from "hardcore" content. Obsessive and immoral Suitors are fine! However, if these characteristics start becoming cartoonishly cruel, I will definitely pull back and compensate. Besides, I think it is much easier to find Extreme Yandere vs. Light Yandere, so I'm not going to oversaturate the market.

Speaking of oversaturated markets: I will likely try to avoid common tropes or at least common depictions of tropes. I am not obligated to accept prompts that I do not like.

So here are some prompts that I will not accept. Some exceptions may be made if I personally find some way to twist them, but that depends solely on me.

Bully x. Victim.

Anything based in misogyny. Trophy-Wives/Husbands, Bimbos, Extreme Objectification, etc. Suitors will treat fem. Y/Ns with the same attitude as masc. Y/Ns.

Extreme age gaps.

Love at first sight. I hate this one. I absolutely will not write this one. Every Suitor will have some genuine reason behind their love/infatuation for Y/N. Slow-Burn or Implied History, just no superficial love.

3. EXTRA TAGGING

#The Hostess. | Text-posts from the author! This tag will be used for any post that isn't directly writing.

#Inquiries. | Asks!

❛❛Are you mocking me? ❜❜ His voice, though soft, carried an edge meant to wound. But even as he spoke, his eyes lingered on the headband, caught between disbelief and something more conflicted. He knew he should refuse. His pride demanded it. A Phantomhive was above such humiliating nonsense. And yet, wasn’t it the Christmas season? A time for giving, for humoring fools and their whims? The excuse sat uncomfortably in his chest, but it was enough to keep him from outright dismissal.

Ciel rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate, though tension coiled in the line of his shoulders. His fingers brushed down the front of his jacket, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing, a subtle stalling tactic as he wrestled with the unspoken implications of the request. When he finally reached for the headband, his hand faltered, hovering above it for a fraction of a second before he snatched it from the air. His fingers curled tightly around the wire frame, as though to crush the absurdity of it in his grasp, but instead, he lifted it to eye level, his expression unreadable.

The ears were soft beneath his thumb, the plush fabric an affront to his dignity. He stared at them for a long moment, the firelight catching the edges of his face as warmth prickled up his neck and settled in his cheeks. It wasn’t just the ridiculousness of the item that humiliated him - it was the knowledge that he would relent, that some traitorous part of him wanted to.

❛❛ This,❜❜ he muttered, more to himself than to the room, ❛❛ is beneath me. ❜❜ Yet even as he said it, he raised the headband and placed it atop his head, the wire pressing lightly against his hair.

A flush rose to his cheeks almost immediately, heat blooming across his pale skin as he avoided his reflection in the darkened window. His gloved hand moved instinctively to touch the ears, as if to confirm their presence, before falling away, fingers curling into a loose fist at his side.

Humiliation settled over him like a weight, heavy and cloying. And yet, beneath the sting of indignity, there was something else - a strange, twisted satisfaction in knowing that he had fulfilled the butler’s ridiculous desire. It wasn’t just Sebastian’s amusement he had indulged; it was his own quiet, unspoken craving to be seen, to be adored in some strange and foolish way.

❛❛ I look ridiculous,❜❜ he said aloud, his voice thin and sharp, though his tone lacked its usual venom. He shifted his weight, fidgeting in place as though the air itself conspired to mock him. The blush deepened, and for a moment, his chest tightened with the thought that this was how far he had fallen - to don cat ears at the whim of his butler, the very symbol of his servitude.

But wasn’t that the dynamic they had always shared? A subtle, maddening game of control that shifted and twisted like smoke, impossible to grasp. He held the title, the authority, yet Sebastian always found ways to tease at the edges of his pride, to bend him in ways that felt both infuriating and intimate. And, heaven help him, Ciel indulged it.

The heat in his face deepened as he adjusted the headband, the wire settling more snugly against his head. He hated how aware he was of the ears, how they made him feel - silly, exposed, yet oddly alive under the weight of Sebastian’s unseen gaze. The humiliation was sharp, but there was something intoxicating about it too. To let his guard slip, to cater to the butler’s whims, even in this ridiculous way… it was a small surrender, but a deliberate one.

His fingers brushed the ears once more, a self-conscious movement that betrayed how acutely aware he was of his appearance. ❛❛ You had better enjoy this thoroughly, it’s rare I entertain such nonsense. ❜❜