Crystal-cryptic - SmolNova22

???: denji ...

Denji: WHA--WHO ARE YOU??

???: i'm the gayness devil, Denji

Denji: WHY ARE YOU SMALL

???: not enough people are homophobic anymore … i need you to spread homophobia, Denji. You need to spread homophobia

Denji: i… um… i don't think i can do that

???: i'll show you a boob

Sometimes when I see a clown/jester character I can't but feel like a bird.

Like yes, you colorful silly guy dance and hop around for me with your weird noises as I fall in love and you become my favourite character.

some days you cannot help but pity some people

Modern art

Honey

mitsukuni haninozuka x reader

an: a request from not too long ago that sounded ✨perfect.✨. am thinking of an extended one-depending if people like it, but this scratches my itch for today

summary: you never understood what they saw in the overly, obnoxious 'cutie' known as Honey-senpai. he always seemed a little off to you...

warnings: yandere themes, suggestive content, forced kissing, implied stalking,

Were you the only one who saw it? 

The Host Club was buzzing with activity, the usual squeals and “oohs” and “ahhs” filling the lavishly decorated music room. Your friend had dragged you along once again, insisting that it would be “fun,” as if you hadn’t spent the last few visits awkwardly sitting at the table while they fawned over their favorite hosts.

Today was no different.

Across from you sat two other girls—probably friends of your friend—chatting animatedly about Tamaki-senpai’s latest antics.

You didn’t necessarily hate being here. But your friend—she definitely had her favorites. You’d even come to appreciate the moments spent with Mori-senpai, whose calm and stoic presence was a welcome contrast to the vibrant chaos that was the Host Club. Whether it was a quiet remark, a rare joke, or even just the simplicity of his company, there was a sense of comfort in those interactions.

But her favorite—Haninozuka, or Honey-senpai—was a different story.

It wasn’t that you disliked him. At least, not entirely. It was just...the way he acted. The cutesy, exaggerated persona, dripping with syrupy sweetness, felt far too calculated. Every giggle, every offer of cake, every affectionate mention of his beloved Usa-chan seemed so meticulously crafted, so blatantly designed to draw attention, that it set your nerves on edge.

No one else seemed to notice. To everyone around you, he was simply adorable, the perfect embodiment of charm and innocence. But to you, something about it felt... off.

You had been dazing off, thinking about the mountain of assignments waiting for you tonight. Across the table, the other girls giggled, their attention turning as Haninozuka approached with his ever-present bunny plushie tucked under one arm. His high-pitched voice floated above the hum of conversation, cheerful and bright, effortlessly drawing the room’s focus. Faces lit up around you, enchanted by his arrival as though he carried the light of the room with him.

You weren’t as enchanted.

The sound of your name broke through the chatter, jolting you from your thoughts. “I brought you something special today!” Haninozuka all but declared, his tone as dramatic as ever, yet still maintaining an edge of sweetness that felt so rehearsed...so practiced.

In his hand, he held a small plate of cake, a picture-perfect dessert adorned with pastel swirls of frosting and tiny, meticulously placed edible flowers. It was the kind of detail that would have drawn gasps of delight from anyone else at the table. Anyone else.

“Isn’t it the cutest?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly, his honey-brown eyes locking onto yours with an almost disarming intensity. The angle of his gaze, wide and expectant, felt like a silent demand for approval. Just what did this dude want from you?

Caught off guard, you forced a polite smile, nodding as you tried to mask the discomfort creeping into your expression. “T-thank you, Haninozuka-senpai,” you replied, the words stiff and formal in comparison to the casual, intimate tone he used.

Senpai. The word felt heavier than usual, a subtle reminder that despite his childlike demeanor, he was older than you.

He placed the plate carefully in front of you, lingering just a moment too long. His gaze stayed fixed on yours, expectant, his head tilting slightly as if to dissect every flicker of your reaction. When you didn’t respond the way he seemed to want, his head tilted further, a faint pout crossing his lips. “You don’t look very excited,” he said, his tone still candied and overly sweet, likely just as painfully aware of the eyes on you both. “You don’t look very excited,” he pouted.

Around you, the other girls giggled and leaned closer, completely enraptured by his charm, while even Mori shifted slightly to glance in your direction. The attention only brought a pink flush to your cheeks.

“Do you not like it?” Haninozuka’s words were innocent enough, but the way he asked them made your skin prickle. His fingers clutched Usa-chan a little tighter, the fabric straining under his grip, a small but unmistakable sign of tension. His wide, childlike smile seemed to stretch just a fraction too far, and an uneasiness spread in your stomach.

The question lingered awkwardly in the air, and the buzz of the room seemed to dim as you scrambled for a way to let him down gently without coming off as rude. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a polite smile, your words light but to the point. "It's beautiful, really. I just don't eat a lot of sweets."

For a moment, everything paused. His cheerful expression stayed put, but his eyes sharpened, a glint of something not quite right flickering behind the sugary facade. Then he giggled—a light, airy sound that somehow felt hollow.

“That’s okay,” he said, his voice as bright as ever, though his gaze didn’t soften. “I’ll just make something even better next time. Something you’ll have to like.”

He straightened and turned away, bouncing off to another group with his usual exuberance. The giggles and swooning around him resumed instantly, the moment passing as though it had never happened. But your unease remained. The way he had looked at you, as though studying something under a magnifying glass, replayed in your mind.

No one else seemed to notice the edge beneath his sweetness. His syrupy charm worked its magic on everyone else in the room, leaving you alone with the chilling suspicion that you were the only one who saw the cracks in his perfect mask.

And he couldn't understand it. 

He had done everything right, hadn’t he? The bright smile, the sweet voice, the perfectly crafted plate of cake adorned with delicate frosting swirls and tiny edible flowers. It was flawless—he was flawless. Everyone adored him. Everyone always adored him.

But you didn’t.

He noticed it, even if you thought you were being subtle. The way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when he approached. The slight stiffness in your posture when he placed the plate in front of you. You weren’t like the others, who leaned in with starry eyes and breathless giggles. You didn’t react the way you were supposed to—the way you should have.

It ate away at him.

As he walked away, the giggles of the other girls surrounded him like a cloud of adoration. Yet, his mind wasn’t on them. It wasn’t on the praises they showered him with or the way they clung to his every word. No, his thoughts were with you.

There you were, sitting at that table, your expression carefully polite but utterly unconvincing.

Why? Why didn’t you light up when he smiled at you? Why didn’t you melt when he offered you his perfectly crafted cake? Why didn’t you look at him the way everyone else did? He couldn’t stop the questions from swirling in his mind, each more frenzied than the last.

You didn’t dislike him.

He had watched you closely, carefully, reading the subtle cues in your posture, the polite smile you offered when he spoke to you, even during class times, or when he'd see you passing him in the hall. Sometimes, he'd subtly follow you, observing how naturally your interactions with everyone else seemed to flow.

No, he concluded, you didn’t dislike him. He was sure of that.

But you didn’t adore him either, and that was the problem. That was the part he couldn’t accept.

He tilted his head, feigning interest in another guest’s chatter, nodding in all the right places. But his attention wasn’t on them. His gaze kept darting back to you, like a moth drawn to a flame. There you were, sitting at the table, now fully engaged with Mori. You were talking to him, your expression lighter, more relaxed, your smile genuine in a way it never seemed to be when directed at Haninozuka.

And that smile—it ignited something sharp and bitter inside him. Jealousy. He recognized the feeling instantly, even as he tried to suppress it. It twisted in his chest, coiling tightly, growing stronger with every laugh you shared with Mori. Why was it so easy for you to smile like that with someone else? Why wasn’t it him who could draw that kind of warmth from you?

You were different, that much was clear. You weren’t swayed by the thick charm or the carefully crafted persona he had perfected over the years. His sweetness didn’t disarm you, his innocence didn’t lull you. It worked on everyone else—everyone but you.

His grip on Usa-chan tightened, his fingers digging into the soft fabric. The familiar texture grounded him as his thoughts threatened to spiral. He needed to fix this. He needed to understand.

Why didn’t you look at him the way everyone else did? What was missing? What did Mori have that he didn’t? The questions swirled in his mind, each one sharper than the last.

He couldn’t let it stay this way. If his usual appeal wasn’t enough to break down your walls, then he would find another way. There was always a way. He just needed to figure out what would work. What would make you look at him the way you looked at Mori. What would make you adore him, the way you were supposed to.

He watched you again, his gaze lingering as you leaned slightly toward Mori, laughing softly at something he said. It wasn’t fair. That smile, that warmth—it should have been his. You should have been his.

You didn’t adore him. Yet.

But you would. He would make sure of it. No matter what it took.

The day started innocently enough. Classes passed without incident, and the plan was to spend the afternoon catching up on assignments in the library.

But as the building’s doors swung open, the heavy clouds that had been gathering all morning burst open in a torrential downpour. Groaning, the only choice was to pull your cardigan over your head and sprint for the nearest cover.

The garden gazebo provided a quick refuge—ornate, quiet, and usually deserted. Ducking inside, the rain’s relentless hammering against the roof drowned out the world beyond. Alone at last, or so it seemed.

“Hiding from the rain too?” The bright voice startled you. Turning quickly, there was Haninozuka, sitting on a stone stool, completely dry. It was as though he had been waiting there, untouched by the storm. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone here. Are you okay?”

A quick nod followed, brushing off the rain as much as the question. “Just trying to stay dry.”

His gaze lingered, eyes scanning your soaked cardigan and dampened shirt. You blushed a bit, realizing the fabric might be a bit see-through. Concern laced his tone as he stood, removing his blazer in one fluid motion. “You’ll catch a cold like that.” Before you could protest, he stepped closer, draping it over your shoulders.

It might have seemed like a kind gesture—thoughtful and considerate—but the way his hands stayed on the fabric just a moment too long made your skin crawl.

His fingers brushed your shoulders lightly, lingering as if testing your reaction. His gaze held yours with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, unsettling in its focus. The smile that followed, soft and unassuming, didn’t match the tension thickening in the air.

Your breath hitched. “I—I’m fine,” you stammered, stepping back slightly, though the weight of his presence left little room to breathe. “I was going to try running home—”

Before you could finish, his hand gently but firmly gripped your arm, stopping you in place. His expression didn’t falter, his smile still in place, but there was something biting beneath it now. Something unfaltering and grim.

“Running? In this storm?” his voice still light but carrying an undertone of something far less...innocent. “You’ll get hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” your voice faltering as you tried to pull away, but his grip tightened ever so slightly, keeping you rooted where you stood. Damn he sure was strong.

“I can’t let you do that,” softly, his eyes boring into yours. “What kind of person would I be if I let you get soaked—or worse, slip and fall?” His other hand rose to adjust the blazer draped over your shoulders, his movements slow and deliberate, as though claiming the space around you.

“Really, I’ll be fine,” you tried again, your heart pounding against your ribs. But he took a step closer, closing the distance between you with alarming ease, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the gazebo.

“What’s your problem with me?” His voice cut through the pounding of the rain, sharper than you’d ever heard it. The sugary sweetness, gone, replaced by something darker, and much colder. “You don’t seem to like me very much, and I’m wondering if it’s something I did.”

The shift in his tone sent a chill down your spine. His eyes locked onto yours, unblinking, as if daring you to deny his words. This wasn't the senpai you knew-

“N-no, that’s not it,” you stammered, stepping back instinctively, only for your back to meet the edge of the gazebo. The rain continued to hammer against the roof, trapping you both in an atmosphere that felt suffocating.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less cutting. “Because it sure feels like you don’t.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. His gaze pinned you in place, the weight of it making it impossible to look away. He took another step closer, and the space between you shrank until there was nowhere left to retreat.

“I try to be nice,” his tone measured, deliberate. “I go out of my way to make you feel welcome, to make things easier for you. But you don’t even smile at me like you do with the others. Like you do with Mori.”

The mention of Mori sent another spike of unease through you, but before you could respond, his hand reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. The gesture might have seemed gentle if not for the possessive edge in his eyes. The giddy look at having you this close to him.

“What is it?” his voice softening, not comforting you in the slightest. It was low, almost a whisper, drawing your focus solely on him, all consuming. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” you managed, your voice matching his whisper, though your heart was screaming otherwise. “I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted, his hand lingering at the side of your face, his fingers brushing your jaw. His smile returned, faint and strained, more a show of teeth than warmth. “You can tell me. I want to understand.”

The rain was deafening, the sound pressing down on you as he leaned closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. His proximity left no room for escape, his hand still resting lightly against your face. The tension in the air was suffocating, every nerve in your body screaming for you to move, to do something, but you couldn’t.

“Y’know, I’ve always liked you,” he said suddenly, catching you off guard. You suppose you felt flustered by his confession, but the nerves from his proximity took over. His voice was softer now, less controlled, as if letting something slip he’d been holding back. His eyes darted down to your lips, and you held your breath, refusing to visibly react much more than that.

“I watch you, you know,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, intimate and unsettling. “You’re not like everyone else. I really, really like you.”

His hand tilted your chin slightly, forcing you to lock his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming. “But you’re so hard to reach,” he murmured, his thumb circling your cheek. “And it’s driving me insane.”

“Haninozuka-senpai,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling—whether from fear or disbelief, you couldn’t tell. His eyes were close to deranged now, and you swear you caught a flicker of something akin to hunger as his gaze dropped briefly to your lips.

“Call me Mitsukuni,” his voice dripping with an almost disarming charm, but the tension in his grip betrayed him. His eyes held yours, making escape feel impossible. “We’re closer than that now, don’t you think?”

You tried to pull back, but his hold shifted, slotting in right up against your pinned body. Rain tickled your back, ricocheting off the stone below, battering the gazebo as the world beyond blurred into gray. You couldn't focus on anything but his warmth, the way his eyes flicked down to your lips again, and his smile twitched, as if he was barely restraining himself from crossing a line right then and there.

“You’ll see,” leaning in now, almost threateningly, “You’re going to like me as much as I like you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before you could move, before you could even think, his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was forceful, teeth clashing, as his hands gripped you tightly, almost painfully. His hold didn’t just restrict-it bruised, pressing you back against the cold, wet wood.

When he finally pulled back, a long string of saliva trailed from your mouth to his, his breath panting, mingled with yours. His eyes were delirious, locked on your face, absorbing every flicker of emotion. His smile returned, soft and unsettling, as you trembled against him. “See?” he whispered. “You don’t have to run. You’re safe with me.”

The rain continued to fall, but it felt like nothing compared to the weight of his presence. Your heart pounded in your chest, not from the storm outside, but from the storm he had stirred up inside you.

Leaving you feeling anything but safe.

come home

Yan!Merman x Reader x Yan!Prince: Endings

The opinions regarding this story were unsurprisingly leaning towards the merman as your final choice, though there were some people who did vote for the prince. Allow me to suggest you a third, bonus ending that you can unlock: awkward polycule that somehow works out in the end.

Arrogant, yet insecure Prince who is so desperate to have you that he'll put up with any condition. Yes, even if he must live next to the creature. He's constantly trying to prove his feelings and seems to believe this is a competition of sorts. Despite his outspoken disgust for the merman, the battle-hardened royal will often jump to his defense, cutting short any disrespectful display. No one dares to question the monster in his presence. Don't bring it up, though, he will become angry and embarrassed and deny everything.

Cursed merman who doesn't care about anything else other than having you. He's unexpectedly indifferent to the nobleman joining in and is painfully oblivious to his ardent challenges. In fact, he quite admires the human's passion and virtuous nature, often trying to copy his behavior. Doesn't really register the hostility and thinks the prince is just shy, awkward, or self-conscious. Wait, he's self-conscious about his monstrous self, too! Perhaps they've been friends all along.

Reader who's just enjoying the show. You sure went beyond your family's expectations, huh? They wanted you to finally bring home a husband, and you ended up with two!

Nothing says ''found family'' more than this image.